#im pressing a gun to your head telling you to be obsessed with him like i am

[femboyhunting]

I really love that there's a band tee. I'm putting my poor little meow meow in outfits like I'm playing dress up games

[chai-berries]

patrols with abby were easy. you knew she had your back, being the best of the best in isaac’s eyes. you started training with her to go on missions in the first place so you both created an almost dance while on a mission. you talked, whispered, laughed. you packed your extra bags with his trash/her treasure bits and bobs you found in decrepit buildings, teetering on 2x4s like a gymnast. abby was currently obsessed with the olympics, the last one being in 2012. she found a bunch of magazines about it on her last trip and had delicately packed them in her bag, planning on reading them as soon as she got back. “did you know that…” lined your conversations for several patrols. your personal favorite fact that it was the first olympics where every nation had a woman representing.

she later admitted, when you had officially been together for just over a week, that you were the last person to still be interested in what she was talking about. even nora tapped out after an hour-long spew about the shoes track and field athletes wear. manny tapped out after 5 minutes, during which he thought abby was joking around the whole time.

the point is you guys had it down to a tee. and yet, neither of you saw it coming. one second abby is laughing at something you said, turning around to respond, and the next second she’s pointing a gun over your shoulder. you freeze, back tensed up. an arm that is neither yours nor abby’s wraps around your neck and pulls you against a chest. the breath you let out from the action is sucked back into your lungs when you feel the cold metal of the gun tap against your temple. your mind shuts down on you, your fear overshadowing all you know about self-defense. your eyes stay locked on abby’s face. if you’re going to die, you want the last thing you see to be her.

“let. her. go.” abby bites out. her hand is steady, the gun pointed at whoever had you in a chokehold. “and i’ll think about letting you live.”

the man, who you assume is a man, tugs you closer to their body. you hear them wet their lips before speaking through a smile.

“now, i don’t want to hurt either of you,” it is a man. and his nonchalant response makes your stomach turn. “i don’t hurt young ladies like yourself,” he continues lewdly. his hold tightens on you again but this time he moves you so your body is pressed tight against his. abby continues to stare him down, her finger itching to fire a shot right in his head for touching you.

you bring both hands around his arm and sneak them between it and your neck. abby clocks your shift and switches her focus to the smug son of a bitch on the other side of her gun. she barely blinks before firing one clean shot in his shoulder, causing him to jump back and let you go. you dive near abby’s feet and move to stand behind her.

the man is moaning loudly. “now why did you do that?” he cries, holding his shoulder.

“c’mon man, if i have to explain it to you, you really are better off dead.” abby steps towards the man, who scuttles away on the floor. with you behind her, abby let’s go of the breath she’d been holding. she kneels over the curled up man, the hand on his shoulder stained red.

“who are you? are you alone?”

“ya think im gonna tell you?” the man croaks out.

abby kicks the gun away. “if you want to live i’d suggest talking. you’re in wolf territory.”

he freezes at the last sentence and abby tenses up again.

you freeze as well and call for abby. “c’mon. abby, we — we should go. ab—”

“no! we heard about a group moving in. they killed austin and half their group,” she says to you, her attention still on the man. “was that you?” she asks him. when he doesn’t say anything, abby knows her answer. she thinks back to what issac told her. that anyone in that group needs to be eliminated. no matter what. and you being on patrol wasn’t an exception in anyone’s eyes but abby’s.

“step back,” she nods her head at you. you immediately comply, taking several steps back as abby stands back up.

SHE KILLS FOR YOU: she looks down at the man and fires a single shot. you squeeze your eyes shut at the sound and don’t open them until you feel abby’s hand on your cheek. you blink up at her as she scans your face. you know you probably look a mess. sweat and dirt covering your face no matter how hard you try to keep it clean.

“you okay?” she asks, brows furrowed.

you nod. “yeah. not my first time witnessing a death, unfortunately. but i’m okay.” you lean into her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. after a minute of scanning you for any tiny scratches, she lets you go and readjusts her backpack, slipping her gun into the holster.

“c’mon, let’s go back early. we need to report this to the group.”

you’re quick to follow her, taking the hand she gives to guide you over a giant fallen tree. she does it automatically, her free hand reaching to steady you if needed. the shift from laughing and joking to whispers is felt. but thankfully the love is still as loud as ever.

SHE DOESN’T KILL FOR YOU: “get up!” abby watches the man struggle to stand. he stumbles and abby uses her free hand to hold him up. when he’s stable, she steps back. “if i was alone you’d be dead by now. you’re lucky. go back to your group and tell them to stay out of this area. this is your only warning. now go!” the man stutters for a second before he staggers away. you take a step towards abby.

“abs — abby?” she keeps facing the direction the man went but doesn’t shy away from your touch. you run your hand up her arm and to the nape of her neck. “you okay?”

“yeah,” she sighs. she turns to look at you. your eyes are glassy and wide. she reaches up to wipe a tear from the corner of your eye. “c’mon we need to head back. one of the survivors said they had a big crew and isaac needs to know what happened before tomorrow’s patrol.”

you’re quick to follow her, taking the hand she gives to guide you over a giant fallen tree. she does it automatically, her free hand reaching to steady you if needed. the shift from laughing and joking to whispers is felt. but thankfully the love is still as loud as ever.

[averagegtenjoyer]

Bless. I have a little more p5 g/t for you. Akeshuake focused because i LOVE THEM.

These are all taken from my little idea folder thing, so some of them have dialogue/are story based and some of them are just little concepts.

(P5R SPOILERS)

⭑ “Here, you’ll have to stay in my pocket today.”

“What…?” Akechi growls. “I am not doing that.”

“You dont have a choice, Akechi. You have to come to school with me somehow.” Akira huffs.

“B-but can’t I just… can’t you hold me, or something?” The brunette adjusts his clothes anxiously, but he still glares tiny daggers into the giant.

Akira shakes his head. “I cant risk you getting crushed, or someone seeing you. I’m sorry. Its just for today, until we can get the group together to fix this.”

Akechi hesitantly agrees and Akira helps him climb into his chest pocket. All day at school, Akechi can feel the boom of Akira’s voice, the way his hand clutches his pocket every so often to ensure Akechi is still there. He feels so protected, and he’s never felt that way before. Eventually, in the middle of class, Akira opens his pocket to see a tiny, tiny akechi asleep in there. He audibly awwwwes until Morgana and Ann ask him what he’s looking at.

⭑ Akira being referred to as a gentle giant is the best thing ever like yes! He is a pretty giant boy! Giant Akira gazing downwards, his big eyelashes, his powerful, strong fingers that could crush with little effort, but his gentle touch. His feet crashing into the ground and sending people stumbling, but so incredibly careful not to crush anyone accidentally. Gentle boy with his tiny leblanc family and his tiny thieves and his tiny rival

⭑ Akechi picking up tiny Joker and mumbling “Now, what am I going to do with you…?” Is SO GOOD

⭑ Akechi chooses against killing akira au. He realizes Akira can be a great help in taking down Shido. However, he needs to get him out of that damn interrogation room. Years of work on a certain device has given him a solution.

“Hello. Im here to rescue you.”

“Akechi…” akira breathes, dumbfounded. “You came for me.”

“There’s no time for your brainless sentimentality. Sorry for this.” He aims a strange looking ray gun at him, before-

Akira blinks, groaning. “What…” he tries to gather his bearings, before realizing that a giant, gloved hand is coming towards him. He screams in horror as he realizes that he’s been shrunk!! The hand wraps around him tightly, the leather rubbing against his skin as he kicks his legs in a panic.

“Quiet, you little thief! You’re going to get us found out!” Akechi puts a finger to Akira’s mouth. Akira weakly nods in pure fear, before Akechi drops him in his pocket.

⭑ On that note. Goro with a shrinking function in his ray gun!

⭑ Giant goro petting akira absently without even realizing he’s doing it, or, pretending so. Telling him he’s a cute little thing. Akira leaning into his gentle, but enormous touch. His hand batting goro’s enormous finger away when he starts poking and prodding him teasingly. Akira sleeping in goro’s glove. <3

⭑ Tiny bullets ricocheting off of Goro’s black mask gauntlet because he dropped his enormous hand in front of Joker and Violet to protect them from shadows in Maruki’s palace ^-^

⭑ Staying on the Maruki thought, Akechi showing up to Leblanc in that first little bit of the third semester, except he’s absolutely enormous, to the point where he can barely fit a foot into the tiny alleys of Yongen-Jaya. He gets Akira’s attention by knocking on his window with the back of his knuckle. Akira practically leaping out of his window to see him, and Akechi picks him out of his window by the back of his shirt. Blah blah Maruki made him big so Akira would be obsessed and too happy to reject the false reality blah blah I would be happy with a giant akechi too

⭑ Satanael Joker with clouds circling his horns because he’s just so big. Scooping all of the thieves into one hand because they’re so small and pressing them ever so gently to his chest in a hug. He laughs softly and it feels like an earthquake to everybody around him. Shooting Yaldabaoth in the head himself YAY!

i have majorrr anxiety so This is so scary but i feel so validated in my ideas thank you all mwah mwah <33

[burnedbyshoto]

the bodyguard

— Kirishima gets assigned to be the bodyguard to one of the worlds greatest idols: you. —

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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, brat taming, authority kink, spanking, blowjob, slapping, choking, brat taming, brat!reader, modern!au, no quirks, bodyguard!kirishima, idol!reader, PTSD portrayal, anxiety, war flashbacks, implied minor character death, drugging, alcohol consumption, size difference: kirishima is 2 feet taller than you, regardless of the reader’s original height. If you’re 6 ft congrats he’s 8 ft.

word count: 20,500

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab.... im so sorry, it’s 4:30 am and I have a plane to catch in 2 hours to get back to school. thank you jo for proofreading this for me because lol I am a mess. if the paragraph spacing did not work as I wish it does, please let me know so I can go in and edit in visible paragraph spacers!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“I’ll be okay.”

The smell of dirt, sweat, and blood clung to the air.

The sun was setting, its blood-red shine illuminating against the destroyed earth, making the already bloodied soil even bloodier. 

There was no telling if the land was quiet, if the reason why the world's silence was because the world just for this moment had gone silent, or if the earlier explosions were still ringing in his ears.

Kirishima sat wounded, his back pressed to the wall, his eyes wide, breathing erratic. He can’t move, can’t bother picking up the gun that lays abandoned by his knee as warm, sticky liquid spills onto his clothed knees and continues to soak the fabric of his jeans.

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

Kirishima stills, his eyes stilling on the floor and looking at the clear moisture. He doesn’t need to touch his face to know it’s a combination of both sweat and tears. 

His ears sing with white noise, the erratic beat of his heart, and his pained breathing.

“I’ll be okay,” the ghost taunts his mind.

But I’m not okay, Kirishima tries to speak, but knows with how his tongue is sitting like a thick dried sponge in his mouth, he won’t be able to speak. Pushing off the cold floor, flops onto his back, his arm flinging over his closed, shaken eyes until the ringing in his ear disappears into his alarm clock. 

05:30.

Kirishima lays there for a bit more, his chest still heaving heavily with the weight of lead.

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

Kirishima runs through breathing exercises, his chest never stopping in it’s hiccuped, broken pants as his memories continue to haunt his mind. If only he was smarter, more observant, better.

“Time to get up, time to get up, time to get up,” his phone screams with his second alarm set at 06:45. The sound does what it’s intended, jolting Kirishima out of his own head. His labored breathing shallowing just enough for his lungs to finally grasp ahold of its required function.

Today was an important day for him; he needed to be on his tiptop game, according to what Toshinori said yesterday.

I’m okay, he convinced himself as he does every morning after having this dream. Kirishima flings his arm off his eyes, the morning purple sun shining softly through his blinds. I’m okay.

Date: 4/2 Time: 08:00 Location: UA Services

“And in other news, music industries princess Y/n has been attacked by yet another round of masked perpetrators. Fortunately for the music idol, she was left unhurt but was clearly rattled. This is but the fourth attack on Y/n since three weeks ago. It’s leaving many of us fans, spectators, and civilians wondering just what is being done to ensure her safety? Y/n is reported to not have a single bodyguard to her name, wanting to quote-on-quote ‘experience her fans to the fullest’, but with these recent attacks, we can’t help but hope something is done. At least until something is done about these attackers—”

Kirishima’s eyes tore away from the screen, his lips pressed into a deep frown as he took in the story. There was deep worry about it, not only because he hated the idea of people getting hurt, but because he was a big fan of yours.

Your debut album had come out during his training camp for the military. Not only was it an instant billboard smasher breaking every standing record, but his commanding officers were obsessed with the album and played it continuously until they graduated. Most of Kirishima’s comrades came to dislike your music solely because they remember throwing up, bleeding, and suffering while you sang about love and whatnot, but Kirishima? Kirishima fell in love.

It was a bright spot in his life, and he was grateful for your music, even if it has been ten years and six albums since the training camp.

“Yo, Kiri!” a voice cheered out happily as a hand clasped onto his shoulder from behind. Kirishima held the flinch that threatened to rip through his bones. Kirishima turned to find Kaminari grinning up at him, a cup of steaming tea in one hand as he grinned brightly at his coworker. “I heard you’re finally getting a good case today!”

Kirishima found himself relaxing at the sight of his rather spontaneous friend, a warm smile easing onto his face as he raised his fist for a greeting fist bump.

“We’ll see, I know Toshi’ said it was going to be important, but he also said escorting the paranoid old lady was important,” Kirishima sighed, his smile softening a bit.

Kaminari laughed, his arm slinging around Kirishima’s shoulders as he remembered that.

The little old lady was sure that the government was out to kill her and wanted protection until her son returned from his vacation. Needless to say, Kirishima had thoroughly enjoyed his time with her, even if she was a bit scary. It was a low-risk job, and he only was paranoid by her cane, which she used to thwack his back many times as she talked about how plums extended your life.

“God, I remember subbing in for you for one hour because of your family emergency, and she was so scary! She still haunts my nightmares!” Kaminari shudders, placing the cup of his tea to his lip and taking a long, slow drink. His eyes shift over to the TV, which is still broadcasting the story of your attack. “What a bunch of bastards,” he growls, eyebrows scrunching as the news reporter ends the segment. “Thinking they can go after such a beautiful and talented idol… I’ll kill them.”

Kirishima was more than well aware of Kaminari’s plentiful budding romances. The blond man fell in love with just about any smiling woman who happened to waltz in front of him. Still, unlike most times, he found himself agreeing with him.

“It sounds really serious. I hope that she really considers some type of security team,” Kirishima inputs too, taking the teacup in his fingers with a nod of thanks. “There’re too many weirdos in Japan and in the world, I wouldn’t want to hear the news the day something bad happens.”

Kaminari hums, his face nearing Kirishima’s as he takes a small sip of the apparently black tea. His eyes scrunch, and Kirishima smiles awkwardly as the blond studies him intently.

“W-Wha—”

“You like Y/n!” Kaminari exclaims (accuses, maybe?), his arm leaving Kirishima’s shoulders as he points a finger accusingly at him. “I thought I was the only one in this department who did!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Denki,” the familiar voice of Sero responds for Kirishima. “Everyone in the world is in love with Y/n; she was voted the favorite artist of the year in our company. Everyone but Bakugou voted for her if I remember correctly.”

Kirishima looks over at his black-haired friend who is rummaging through his locker, his mouth curved into an easy, teasing smile as he looks between the bashful Kaminari and sneering Bakugou, who also seemed to just walk in.

“Her shit is basic and overrated,” Bakugou defended himself. “Nothing special and bad for your brain and ears.”

“Your go-to music playlist is fifty percent death metal and alt. rock. I don’t think you have ground to say that it’s bad for your brain and ears,” Midoriya’s snicker sounded from behind Kirishima, and he looked around to see the freckled man grinning at the snarling ash blond.

“And how does your stalker ass know that, shitnerd?!”

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

“Oh, Bakugou-kun, Midoriya-kun! You’re both here! Todoroki-kun is looking for you!”

“I’m just saying that Y/n’s dates to all the award shows and premieres have been blond. She’s into blonds, so she would totally be into me!”

“Deku, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you myself.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to protect Y/n, bro. The only thing you performed well on in the application process was the tasing part. You can’t even tase people repetitively! She’d be dead in a second.”

“Can you believe my client dropped me because I couldn’t cook a five-star meal correctly? Hello, I can make 7-11 into a five-star course; it’s not my fault they’re not refined.”

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

“I deadass got into a dance competition on the way to work. That’s why I’m late, why would I lie? Of course, I had to compete; my reputation was on the line!”

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

Kirishima found himself opening his eyes — when had he closed them? For a moment, the air turned coppery, his body feeling weak, and he thought he felt something heavy on his lap. But that wasn’t right; he was standing up, he wasn’t sitting down. Most importantly, he was in Tokyo, Japan. He was alright. He was safe.

The sweat that clung to the back of his neck was cold, clammy, and intrusive. His chest felt tight again, his hands shaking so harshly the tea's warm, dark liquid was sloshing onto the floor.

There were seven pairs of eyes on him, each a different color, each swimming with concern and other emotions. Kirishima knew his ears weren’t working right now, his face unable to meet his brain's screaming demands to smile, and he watched as their mouths moved as they questioned his sanity.

He was okay.

He was okay.

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

Kirishima looked up, his neck craning to the side to see a tall, skinny man standing at the doorway. 

Toshinori Yagi was an esteemed bodyguard, one of the best in the industry, which was saying something considering that most bodyguards went unknown and unnamed. According to Google, Toshinori gained the nickname All Might after saving multiple political and celebrity lives when the government could not. It was long after his prime, and the man had retired but has since filled as the company’s head — thus why this job was near impossible to get.

Kirishima heaved a breath, realizing that he hadn’t taken a single breath when Toshinori’s bruised eyes narrowed in his concern.

“C-Coming,” Kirishima smiled, the blood rushing to his ears mostly ignorable now, but the scorching concerned gazes of his friends feel like cinders on his shoulder.

He straightens his tie, fingers curling when he feels the cold sweat penetrating through his clothes, but Kirishima doesn’t let it show. Smiling like he does, Kirishima pushed through his friends and followed Toshinori out the door.

They walked down towards the conference rooms, rooms that held their contractors, in complete silence.

“This is an important case,” Toshinori began, his voice gentle and poorly hiding his concern. “I chose you because you are a great asset to have, Kirishima. You are strong and smart, and most importantly, are personable.”

Kirishima looked at the man, his face contorting with his anxiety. He didn’t want to be treated like glass.

“Honestly, you being so personable is why I chose you for this assignment. Todoroki-shounen was a contender at first, but he’s not much of a talker; the same goes for Bakugou-shounen. Midoriya-shounen was probably the best choice, but there’s a new assignment that asked for three, so I gave up those three,” Toshinori explained the current assignments. It both delighted Kirishima to hear that he could keep up with arguably the three most qualified workers here as it did, at times, make him feel lesser. 

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

“The only reason why you weren’t the first choice is because of what I walked into just now,” Toshinori interrupts Kirishima’s thoughts and words. Kirishima finds his eyes tearing away from the smooth, polished wood floor to see Toshinori stopping in front of Conference Room A, his gaze intense on him. “To be frank, I wasn’t too sure if we should have hired you all that time ago. You are excellent on the field, your skills are phenomenal. Something to be proud of, truly, but you are clearly not completely healed from your time on the force.”

“Toshinori—”

“Kirishima-shonen, I’m not saying that there’s shame in your current struggles,” Toshinori once again interrupts, his hand a soothing warmth on Kirishima’s shoulder. “I’m still not healed from my past injuries, and as many people have undoubtedly told you, it’s okay to not be okay. But you barely passed the psych evaluation and only passed your field training because you scored so phenomenally on the other things your lack of a shooting score passed you.”

Kirishima felt unable to look away from the piercing blue eyes, and the lump in his throat never tasted as bitter, as sad.

He had barely passed the admittance test.

“I just need to know, are you ready to take on this assignment?” Toshinori asks in complete seriousness. “It’s a high stake, big-name client. We do not expect anything untoward to happen, but we never know in these cases. I think highly of you, Kirishima-shonen, and if you are ready to take this on, I’ll believe you, but likewise, if you’re not, I will gladly give this to someone else.”

Kirishima swallowed, his dry tongue passing through his equally dry lips.

Without question, he was not okay, not when he nearly broke down twice in a matter of hours, but it was just a bad day. He wasn’t as shaken as he was two months ago; he was going to his mandated therapy, talking to people who could assist him. Kirishima just didn’t want to be treated like glass anymore; he wasn’t glass; he was an unbreakable force.

Steeling over his nerves and ignoring how his stomach twisted and turned, Kirishima raised his gaze to Toshinori.

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

If Kirishima was sweating because he was on a mental slip earlier, he was now sweating because he was beyond petrified and embarrassed. His hands raised up to brush against his red spikey hair, praying to God that it didn’t look dumb. His legs bounced at a speed that was bordering insanity, but he could only hear the sound of his racing heart as he stared at your frowning form from across the table.

It was you — the Y/n, the world's biggest music idol, an absolute legend in the making.

“This is our very own Kirishima Eijirou, age twenty-eight. He has been with U.A.Services for approximately six months now and is without a doubt one of our most capable and well-serviced men,” Toshinori began the introduction to the three people on the other side of the table. Kirishima could feel a blush rising up his neck and settling into his cheeks as what he presumed to be you, your manager, and your lawyer shuffling through paperwork that was very thorough on his background. “He was enlisted in the military before joining our ranks and was honorably discharged at the age of twenty-six as First Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou due to extreme injury. He excels in negotiating, scouting, and is, as you know, a skilled close combatant and was skilled in handguns—”

“I don’t think he’ll need firearms,” you interrupt, a frown on your face in contrast to the bright smile Kirishima was so used to seeing on your face. He tensed in worry.

“Y/l/n!” your manager, Sato Kimiko, scolded.

“What? It’s true! We’ll be around my fans for the majority, if not all the time! How is that right? For him to have a firearm around defenseless, and may I add, harmless individuals?!” you argued, your eyebrows scrunching in your fury.

Kirishima felt frozen in his chair, his eyes seeking Toshinori for guidance, but found himself unable to look away from you. He knew nearly everything about you, he could admit with a proud grin that he was a super mega fan of you, and he might have, at one point, looked your height up to imagine how you would appear beside him. Kirishima had known this entire time that you were two feet shorter than him, but it hadn’t hit what that meant until he was shaking your hand when he first entered.

You were tiny.

His dick and mind really liked that, and seeing your own passion spilling out for your fans was making him fall deeper into this hole he had for you.

“You don’t have a say anymore? Do you understand? You were nearly assaulted yesterday, and we are all done waiting around for something serious to happen!” Kimiko yelled, her face contorted into a look of both frustration and fear. “Either you take this, or we all leave you. I won’t have you murdered in front of me! You’re twenty-six now, stop acting like a damn brat and grow the hell up!”

The words scorched the table, blistering heat filling the conference room as you met Kimiko’s glare.

Kirishima watched with a dropped jaw as your nostrils flared, your lips pursing, and your eyebrows furrowing with unspoken distaste and anger.

“Six months tops.”

“Uh, yes,” Toshinori interjected. “Our contracts only last up to six months for new clients, but if you find yourself wanting to extend your contract after those six months, we are very much open to negotiations.”

You nodded your head, your eyes falling back onto the booklet in your hands that exposed all the information available on Kirishima. From his likes, dislikes, to his allergies and the reason why he was discharged. Each in disturbingly deep detail to make sure all things were up on the table.

“So, you can’t shoot your gun, Kirishima-san?” you speak, your voice tight, a pleased, almost taunting tone.

Kirishima stills, embarrassment bubbling in his chest as you drop the booklet onto the table, exposing his military history to him and you. 

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

The lawyer shifts from the other side of you, his eyebrows scrunching as he too comes across that piece of information. 

“He won’t use firearms?” the lawyer scoffs, his semi-permanent frown deepening. “How will we know that he will keep Y/n completely safe from any sort of danger that may come her way? We’ll be paying six months for a glorified security guard? We want a bodyguard.”

“And we clearly have one,” you snap back, your eyes narrowing. “If my bodyguard isn’t Kirishima-san, I’m not getting one. I mean, isn’t that what you said earlier?”

“When we were assuming that the person Toshinori was assigning to your case was a well-rounded bodyguard. Not one that was still clearly haunted by his past.”

Fuck, that one hurt.

You scowled, your head tilting as you bared your teeth slightly, “And what? He managed to get into the best agency in all of Japan in spite of that. Sounds like he’s competent. I already told you I won’t take on a team, just one individual. I trust in Toshinori-san’s guidance and his choice in picking Kirishima-san. If you disagree, that’s too bad for you.”

“Y/n! Please stop this! You’re being ridiculous!” Kimiko huffed, slamming her own booklet down, her eyes drowning with her exhaustion. “I’m so sorry, Toshinori-san, Kirishima-san.”

“H-Hey, it’s okay!” Kirishima immediately imputed, his hands raising in a sign of retreat. “I know that Y/n has always enjoyed her independence as a solo star, and how me being involved now is imposing, especially after multiple attacks.”

Kirishima felt that his smile was a bit strained, a bit too forced, especially as your eyes hawked onto him. He felt like you were examining him, like a lab rat going through its initial trial and not knowing just what was to be expected.

“Six months?” you spoke, your gaze not leaving Kirishima’s own.

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

You hum, your head nodding. “Fine, six months tops unless the Lieutenant Colonel can apprehend these assholes faster.”

It had been ages since Kirishima had been called by his title, and for some reason, he found himself blushing. His mouth, for the first time this entire meeting, curled into a wolfish grin.

“You got it.”

The lawyer groaned, entirely aggravated and insulted. He stood up, “You’re asking to be murdered, Y/n. Don’t come haunting me when you end up dead and mutilated. You deserve all the shit you’re getting.”

Kirishima watched with his lips parted in a bewildered expression as the lawyer walked out of the room with a loud slam of the door.

You were unfazed, and Kimiko groaned, exhausted and embarrassed as she mumbled a weak, sullen, “I am so, so sorry, Toshinori-kun.”

“Ah, Kimiko-chan, it’s okay!” Toshinori shook his head and smiled knowingly. It wasn’t as if the long time famous bodyguard hadn’t seen his fair share of childish fights between clients. “Thank you for coming as always, and we’ll do our best to make sure that Y/n is in the best of hands.”

“Thank you… and so, the rest of the contract?”

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

For six months, Kirishima would be attached to your side. He must always remain at most three meters away from you when there is no one around, and during fan interactions no more than one meter. He had a full say about your safety. If things got rough, you were to follow his every command. Your agency would pay for his room and lodging. He was to wear black pants and a black long-sleeved cotton tee. He would be working with every venue, every hotel, every conventions security team. He would lead them and never leave your side. He was to be awake an hour before you, rest when you were asleep so long as it was safe to do so. He was your guardian angel of sorts, and you would do nothing but adhere to him. 

Most importantly, according to Kimiko, there was one thing they were hoping for: Kirishima's help and discretion. For the next six months, they would be relying on Kirishima’s support to figure out who the group behind the assault was and who the mastermind was behind it all is.

Or so the contract said.

“Y/n!” Kirishima called when the papers were signed, and the day he was set to start was printed. He will begin tomorrow. “Wait!”

You stopped at the door, Kimiko and Toshinori chatting merrily between them as they exited the conference room, Toshinori’s booming voice asking if it was true that Kimiko was attending to a near forty clients to which she bashfully admitted to. You were dressed in a creme knit long-sleeved shirt, faded ripped jeans, and a pair of nude heels. The heels were big, undoubtedly giving you inches, but you still barely got to his shoulder.

“I-I’m looking forward to looking — I mean working with you!”

You looked at him closely, your eyes dragging to the top of his toes to the tallest spike in his hair before your lips pulled into a contemplative pout. You looked back to his eyes, and you steeled over, your head tilting to the side.

“I mean no offense, Sergeant, I thank you for doing your job, but I have no intention of looking forward to working with you. I don’t want you here, so do your best to ignore the contract and realize that I am the most important person, so you will follow my demands.”

Kirishima can do nothing but stare as you turn on your heel and leave.

Well, so much for a good case.

Date: 5/2 Time: 14:00 Location: Tokyo Music Stadium

If you would have told Kirishima Eijirou that he had been working for the grand, the perfect, the fantastic music idol Y/n for a month now, two months ago, he would have laughed so hard he’d cry. Not only would he have not believed it, but he would only think of a million and two scenarios where he would go the entire day flirting.

Now a month into knowing you, of being your bodyguard on a contract for six months, Kirishima could say that of that entire thought, the only thing he had been right about was that he was, in fact, crying. Not only has he never managed to speak an entire conversation with you despite being attached to your hip seven days a week, but despite your much shorter stature, you had managed to get away from him.

You always managed to sneak away from him.

Kirishima could admit that the no more than five meters rule had been wholly and utterly demolished.

And now, Kirishima was crying, not out of joy, but of pure manly fear as he raced through the backstages of the stadium, desperate to find your short-ass anywhere.

“Go, Kirishima!” someone yelled as Kirishima whizzed past him, “Find Y/n!”

“T-Thank you!” Kirishima screamed as he continued onward, the yellow-lit concrete hallway seemingly haunting the further he went into it. The earpiece in his left ear shrilled, the telling sign he was getting a call. Putting a finger to the circle in his ear, he answered the car. “Hello?!”

“Ah, Kirishima-san!” Kimiko’s voice chirped on the other side of the line. “Wonderful to hear your voice again! I’m calling to let you know that the tour bus is parked outside of the venue now. The concert was a smashing success, and she’s come out unharmed for the past month! To make matters even better, since your arrival, there have been no more assault attempts! Oh, um, sorry, where are you guys?”

“We’re just, um!” Kirishima tried not to pant into the microphone; he was still racing ahead, his head peeking into every door and room he passed. “Y/n needed to use the restroom?!”

“Oh, wonderful. Okay! Let me know when you two are on your way over!”

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

Kirishima hung up as he crashed through the doors at the end of the hallway.

It was night out right now, the full moon reflecting down on the dirty concrete with the same intensity as the streetlamps overhead. And in the middle of a crowd of around twenty people was the person Kirishima was trying to find: you.

You were still dressed in the final costume change of your concert. Even from a distance, Kirishima could see the glitter and highlight on the tip of your nose and the curve of your cheekbones. The crowd around you was clearly not hostile. Each face was bright with broad smiles and sparkling with fresh tears, each voice high and pitchy as if they were talking with some goddess and not you. 

There was a slight longing in Kirishima’s chest at the sight of you interacting with your fans, your smile was so beautiful, and he wished just for a moment that he was the one that it was directed towards. If he had met you as a fan, and only a fan, he wonders if you would look at him as you did the others. Would he see the pure joy in the depths in your eyes, the love, wonder, and pride as they asked you questions and answered your own?

He wanted to be just a fan.

“Y/n, the tour bus is here,” Kirishima finally found his voice, the tenor of his voice spreading through the narrow alleyway. “Say your goodbyes.”

He had to ignore the way you stiffened immediately, the unsolicited joy in your face breaking and becoming bleak as you met his gaze. Kirishima absolutely did not feel pressure behind his eyes when you rolled your eyes and began to say your goodbyes; he did not!

The group of fans waved goodbye as you walked backward toward Kirishima; you didn’t stop waving and continuing your parting conversations with the group until the metal doors of the stadium doors closed behind the two of you. Kirishima let out a sigh, his eyes closing for a brief moment before looking down at you. You were expressionless, eyes cold as you looked dead ahead.

“You’re not supposed to run away like that.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t tell me what to do, Sergeant.”

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

“Part of your contract. Yeah, I know, but that’s your contract, not mine.”

“Oh, okay. Um, Kimiko? ...yeah, we’re heading out now. Five minutes, till.”

And then there’s only silence.

Neither Kirishima nor you bother talking the entire walk towards the tour bus, and you ignore Kimiko’s call that your lawyer would be meeting briefly before tomorrow's fan signing event. You walk into the bus and go directly to the beds, throwing yourself into the terribly padded bunk and passing out without so much as a sound.

Kirishima sinks into his own bed, it’s too small for him, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Sleep overcomes him easily these days; he’s always way too exhausted in chasing you down like some spoiled toddler you’re behaving like to dream. But that’s okay, he thinks as the comfort of sleep begins to dig its skeleton fingers into his side, at least the exhaustion stops the night terrors.

Date: 5/3 Time: 10:00 Location: Tokyo Music Tower

Now, Kirishima knew that it was a common belief and a nearly proven theory that when you met your idols, you should never ever have your expectations high on who they are as a person. Celebrities were out of touch, cruel, rude, nearly jaded. They weren’t exactly the common folk. With people willing to forget things like them being human beings themselves or the common thread of celebrities being too rich to care, any type of famous person was cold, rude, and ruthless.

He knew that.

He also knew that you weren’t like the nearly proven theory.

You were kind, sweet, a practical angel to anyone who dared to approach you. You were the exception to the rule, an outlier to them all. You spoke politely to all your fans, domestic and foreign, and you treated each fan like the most special person in the world.

You were a good person.

But Kirishima knew, just as you reacted to any cruel person you encountered, you had an edge. Your words were as vicious as your name was known. He genuinely enjoyed watching you put assholes into place, but he sulked, knowing he was always at the receiving end of the sharp, bitter tongue of yours.

For a month and a day now, he had been the number target of your bitter words and scorching hate, but he admitted that he enjoyed it when it wasn’t directed at him, if but a little bit.

“I’m not renegotiating my contract!” you groan, your palms slamming into the depths of your eyes. “I already told you that I don’t need all that money!”

“And I’m telling you that you need to increase the wages that you pay the rest of your team instead of all those charities or else people will begin dropping you!” the lawyer countered with similar fire, his scowl angry enough that Kirishima felt like he had to tear his gaze away from this horrible battle. “You won’t be the best of the best forever, y/n, get over your stupid savior act and look over the changes!”

Kirishima looked over at you, his eyebrows pinching as he watched you fold your arms, your cheeks pushed out to a puff as you looked at the stack of papers with the title page fully covered with the word Contract of Y/n and Co. on it. Well, it seemed that the rumor of you spending your paycheck on things that weren’t you was right, how entirely manly.

“Oh fuck off,” you growl, pushing out of the chair and storming away.

Kirishima glanced over at Kimiko, who was looking pale and exhausted, undoubtedly exhausted from the past thirty-minute battle between the lawyer and the idol that neither made a single step forward nor a step back. How you had the energy to fight so passionately was beyond him. Kimiko nodded minimally, her lips parting in a sigh as Kirishima stood up and followed after her.

“The only way that brat is going to listen is by force,” the lawyer sneered, his voice fading into the room that Kirishima exited. “If that’s how she wants to play, so be it.”

Fortunately for Kirishima, he catches up to you. There are tears of fury dripping down your cheeks, and he feels unable to speak as he discovers a new layer to you.

...how interesting.

“It’s my money,” you speak, but Kirishima is unsure if those words are meant for him or for the void, the earth that you would much rather converse with than him. “I already pay them all a much greater paycheck than they should be getting considering their client pool. Why do I have to bend to their stupid will when I’m the one making the money.”

Kirishima blinks, wondering just what people might want to raise with their contracts. But, he knew you were right. By her account, Kimiko had a client list of many successful individuals, and he may not know anything about the lawyer, but if he worked with Y/n, his name must be good. Guess they weren’t like you.

“People are selfish assholes,” was the only thing that Kirishima could think of, and was something he spoke before he could stop himself.

But you stop in your storm, the anger that clouded you somewhat dissipating, clearing just enough for you to turn to him, your sharp, beautiful eyes for the first time filled with rage that was not pointed at him, and an emotion that made him think of… amusement?

“Yeah,” you agree, a half-smile cracking onto your face, and Kirishima feels his soul begin leaving his very body. “People are selfish assholes, huh?”

“Very much.”

There’s a calm, a snorted chuckle, and Kirishima finds himself stumbling further into the abyss of his feelings for you.

The next ten hours seem to pass in a blur, Kirishima feeling like he was on Cloud Nine as he stood behind you, three meters as he watched fan after fan approach you. Signatures were made, pictures were taken, and Kirishima found that he never once had to approach.

Maybe, he thinks, just perhaps, the two of you can overcome this.

Ten minutes after the official signing is done, Kirishima can’t find you, and he curses loudly into the echoing floor.

So much for change.

Date: 5/17 Time: 23:00 Location: The Parking Lot - Mt. Lady Studios

Kirishima was, for the lack of better words, completely fucking done with you.

Don’t get it wrong, he still was a complete and massive fan of yours. He would never once betray his loyalty to you and your musical career, but he was slowly starting to realize just why the lawyer was set to dying of a heart attack any time soon. Despite your early entrance to stardom and the stuff of legends, you had kept your fiery, stubborn individualism.

Kirishima thought it was absolutely hot and sexy at times, especially the times where you strut around in revealing clothes because ‘this is your body,’ or the lingerie campaign you completed two days ago as part of some fundraising event. There were significant perks to your strong handle and claim to keeping your indestructible personality, but it came back to rub them all back in the worst of ways when once again, you escaped from Kirishima’s side.

To be fair, most of the time, Kirishima was a very level headed individual; he was near impossible to rile up despite popular initial belief. I mean, he was good friends with Bakugou Katsuki, who riled up just about anyone he talked to! He needed to have steel calm emotions, or at the very least portray that he does. But even the unbreakable after tireless attempts can, at times, be broken.

It had been a hard morning.

Kirishima had woken up in a panic, the sweat of his night terror soaking through the sheets of his bed, and his head felt like lead. They had been in the tour bus for the entire day because you were going from the tip of Japan to the bottom of it, thus meaning that you couldn’t run away from him, concluding that when he went to bed that night, he was merely tired, not exhausted.

“K...Kiri...shima?” the voice whispered in his ears when he bolted from his bed and tumbled to the ground, his chest heaving in his panic as he cried.

He only slept for four hours that night, the ghost of his comrade haunting him too much for him to ever drift back to sleep. The only thing he was grateful for when he stumbled down to the hotel lobby for breakfast was that he had an attack while in his own room and not in a tour bus with ten others.

But the lack of sleep and the twisting of his guts from his still unburied memories meant that his exhaustion was dialed up larger than he thought was capable. Today was an interview day plus a miniconcert at said interview.

That meant that for an hour before your interview and two hours afterward, Kirishima lost you and had to hunt you down. You weren’t making it easy on him and had started moving with the crowd you gathered to evade him.

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

“Let’s go,” Kirishima spoke in a low, commanding voice. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at you, the crowd of fans parting like the red sea as he stands behind you, larger than life, imposing.

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

“Aw, did you make that just for me?! This beading is gorgeous!”

To be fair, Kirishima isn’t really sure if he’s crying right now or if steam is protruding from his ears like some stupid cartoon. The only thing he knows is that it's been a bit longer than a month, and his client is the most perfect person in the world except to him and some lawyer. All he knows is that he has been continuously mocked, shamed, and disrespected by his client, and at this moment, with his mind and body aching with the memories of the morning, he can no longer stop the tsunami of emotions and thoughts that shove out of him.

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

“We’re leaving now, sorry to disrupt your time. Come see Y/n another day.”

Kirishima isn’t even aware of your screams, the banging of your small fist against his back as his hand encompasses your bicep easily. He walks and walks and walks until he stops, his mind slightly put back into place.

“—FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! LET GO OF ME, SERGEANT!”

Oh, right.

He lets go of you immediately and nearly snorts at how you stumble into his back. So small, so delicate, and so completely weak.

“You want to know my problem, y/l/n?” he asks, voice eerily calm, much calmer than he actually is. “My fucking problem is that I signed onto this case with a single rule: keep you in sight and protect you. It’s simple, almost too easy, isn’t it? But easy and simple is everything that this assignment is!”

Your face contorted into a flash of anger and embarrassment, your nose scrunching as you found your footing, “And I told you that I don’t give a crap about that contract! I didn’t want it in the first place, but no one listens to me!”

Kirishima snorts, his body shifting so that he can look at you properly; your face is seething, your teeth bared and eyes wild, but Kirishima has faced worse.

“It’s not in my contract to listen to you, unfortunately,” Kirishima points out, his eyes narrowing. “I would have a better time listening to you, trying to find an agreement that worked if you used that brain of yours and figured out a way to compromise with me.”

“Compromises aren’t—”

“You think I wouldn’t?” Kirishima almost whines, his voice tight with emotions, fingers fisting in his hair, “You really fucking think that after a month and how many days of me spending stupid hours trying to find your ass, most of the time never knowing if you’re dead or not, I wouldn’t want a better solution?!”

“Like hell they’ll kill me! And if they do, I don’t fucking care!” you stubbornly insist, finger buried against the swell of your chest.

“Oh my god,” Kirishima can’t stop the bitter laugh from escaping, “you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?! I’m not the ridiculous one here!” you cry, your eyes bursting with unshed, bitter tears. “So what that I run away from you? Can you imagine living the past ten years of your life trying to be something that the media wants you to be? No! You can’t, Sergeant! Those times where I’m running away isn’t to be some dick, but to give me time to be me!”

“You’re a goddamn idiot!” Kirishima barks, his anger curdling in his chest like a raging fire. “If you had looked at my damn file correctly, instead of focusing on the stupid shit like me not being able to fire my gun correctly, you would be more than aware of the fact that you are one of my favorite artists!”

“Wh-”

“I am one of the best in my company! I am easy to get along with, personal, manageable, flexible even, but from the very first moment you laid eyes on me, you’ve hated me! You talk down on me, you shit on me, my job, the reason I’m here! Listen, I would fucking love to be anywhere but here right now. I have literally never hated my job before, but you just made that a reality. But the worst part of this all is the fact that you seem to think I would have kept you away, prohibited you from doing things that I already know you love! You stand there and tell me that I would try to force you to do shit you don’t want when I have merely been asking for you to take me there with you! I don’t care if I have to stand away and watch, but I want to be there! I’m supposed to be protecting you, but you’re being nothing more than a stubborn brat who refuses to see the efforts I’m trying to make, and frankly, I’m done.”

Kirishima’s chest is burning with the lack of oxygen, his eyes narrowed and filled with raging fire as he stares down at you, his neck craned so that he could be closer, more daunting, intimidating.

“Fuck o-off,” you snap suddenly, a lone tear, your voice tight and shoulders tense as you storm off.

“So predictable,” Kirishima calls after you, but it’s not filled with the previous anger he had but the sinking misery and regret.

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

And then the all too familiar sound of a fist colliding with skin.

The anger in Kirishima’s blood evaporates immediately, and horror sinks in as he turns towards where you had stormed off. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

The parking lot is filled with an ugly yellow light that seems to set the stage for what was to come down. His footsteps crashing down against the black pavement were mute in his ears, and his eyes were focused on your limp body slung over somebody's shoulder. There was one person behind him, the other one already hopping into a van; Kirishima was the devil on their heels.

“Come on! Let’s go!” the one in the van screamed, his voice full of gruff apprehension and fear.

The van turns on.

Kirishima grunts, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sidesteps the man who was lingering behind the one carrying you and quickly slams his shoulder into the man's sternum, knocking him out the moment he collapses onto the ground. 

He lets out a roar of such, his eyes glowing with anger and a single mind track to take down the person who held you, ready to throw your unconscious body into the back of the van.

Kirishima doesn’t even know when he manages to get to the man's side, one hand on his shoulder, the other on you, and with the strength and anger of a million fighting warriors, he ripped you from his hold and sent him stumbling into the trunk. Your shallow breathing brushes against his neck, and Kirishima is hyper-aware of the cursing men who chose to abandon their unconscious comrade on the floor. 

With his arms filled by your unconscious body, Kirishima can only watch the van scurry out of the lot, the license plate immediately burning into his mind.

T082-23

When the man on the floor finally wakes up, he’s in police custody, and you’re just waking up. There's a bruise on your cheek, and you begin crying immediately.

Kirishima watches from the distance, his heart aching and guilt climbing up his throat as he watches Kimiko hold you close, her arms warm and tight.

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

Kirishima sits in a waiting room, his head relaxed against the wall as he waits for your discharge from the hospital. They suspect a concussion, and they’re running some tests right now. The police are there too, trying to get information from you on the failed kidnapping attempt as well as beginning the initial trials of interrogation of the abandoned kidnapper with a broken sternum, ruptured spleen, and three cracked ribs.

He was not surprised when the police officers came to talk to him, and he gave them the license plate.

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

(“Well, when we asked for a motive, it seemed that it wasn’t his idea,” the detective admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “His boss said that, and I quote, Y/n will end up dead and mutilated as is deserved. She deserves all the shit she has coming her way, end quote. Any ideas of who it could be”

Kirishima rubbed a hand across his face, the words striking a bit too familiarly to him, but from where. He shook his head, his eyes focusing on his bouncing knee.

“Thank you,” Kirishima said, his tone pointed in a clear indicator that this conversation was now over. The detective nodded, his frown slight as he left. The moment he was gone, Kirishima pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Kimiko? Yeah, I think we might have our first suspect.”)

For now, he was waiting for you.

An hour passed before you shuffled into the waiting room. There was a bandage on your swollen cheek, but besides the obvious attack, your eyes looked strong, and it seemed like there was no concussion.

“I should be fine,” you speak first, your jaw tensing as if it physically pained you to speak (whether it was because you hated talking to him or because of the injury, Kirishima had no idea). “I will be fine; I just need some sleep.”

Kirishima nodded, his body completely exhausted, and his mind filled with nothing but regrets on how he handled his anger earlier. He needed to apologize. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he had definitely crossed a few too many lines.

“Should we go?”

You chewed on your lip, your eyes looking down at the white tiled floors of the hospital — so bleak, so anxiety driving.

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

Your eyes raise back up before looking away again, “the contract.”

Kirishima finds himself nodding, his hand gesturing towards the empty seat in front of him.

“Sure.”

And with a heaving sigh that sounds like you were on the verge of tears, you sit before him.

The contract was then discussed.

It was decided that you could continue to interact with fans as you wish, so long as you took Kirishima with you. He didn’t care about the long hours, the manic fans, or the impending doom of a group of people who meant business. He needed to be there.

Everything else stayed the same, but Kirishima looked at you one last time that night in the hospital, his body leaning towards you as he did his best to keep his face void of emotion and any lingering teasing.

“I’ll only accept this new negotiation on one term.”

“W-What?!” you pause, thinking. “Fine, say it.”

“From here on out, I think we should be friends, yeah? I’m on your side, after all, it’s a bit weird if we stay just acquaintances.”

The tension and horror leave your body, and Kirishima, for the first time ever, bears witness to the most relaxed, meaningful smile he has ever seen you give. It had been one hell of a shitty night, but at that very moment when the seventh turned into the eighth, Kirishima felt a new warmth flood through his chest, his heart racing at the sight of your glorious smile.

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?” 

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about all that I said. It was unmanly of me and out of line.”

“It’s okay. To be fair, I was a bit of a self-absorbed brat, too.”

The next day, a picture of Kirishima holding you bridal style is trending.

Date: 6/12 Time: 19:00 Location: Hime Onsen

An Interview with Y/n | Vogue Japan 4.5 million views • Premiered 2 hours ago 874k [liked this] 12.3k [disliked this] Timestamp: 05:32 / 10:33

[Interviewer]: Now, Y/n, we must congratulate you on your latest achievement! Your latest self-titled album, ‘Y/N,’ has been nominated for a record high of twelve awards for the upcoming Japan Record Awards, which will be coming up in about a month! Tell us how you feel about this?

[You]: It was quite a surprise actually! I didn’t realize that it would have done so well in the critic's eyes to get this type of award. I am proud of myself and am excited to see all the other amazing artists and musicians who were nominated as well.

[Interviewer]: Now, your album is all about staying true to yourself, whether that be in love or war. It depicts your own highs and lows while also highlighting beautifully universal things many of us face. Without question, you have always been adamant on staying connected with your fans and keeping a simple rule: no bodyguards.

[Y/n]: Oh, (laughs) yes! That is definitely a new thing, huh?

[Interviewer]: A new thing and a beautiful thing at that, too! Look here!

[captioner notes: interviewer displays many photos of Y/n’s bodyguard, including the most famous one where he’s holding y/n after the failed kidnapped attempt]

[Interviewer]: This is a beautiful — don’t giggle! — a beautiful man, Y/n! What do you have to say for yourself?! Did you finally succumb to keeping untrue to yourself for this beautiful man?! If so, it is perfectly acceptable. By chance, is your contract with him done? I would personally love to have this man on my team.

[Y/n]: (laughing) By all means, take him! (Y/n looks behind her, her bodyguard is there) I’m kidding, I’m kidding! (pauses) No, actually, sorry. Kirishima is an outstanding bodyguard, and I have no intentions of leaving him so soon. Uh, while I did say I had no wish or intentions to have a bodyguard, obviously that was not the best solution, so I hired Kirishima. He is a wonderful addition to my team and still allows me to be authentically me, so it’s still all good.

[Interviewer]: Ah, okay, well, Kirishima-kun, if you ever need a new client, call me. But moving on, yes! Would you like to discuss the series of increasingly concerning attacks?

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

Today was one of the last remaining days you had off, and in celebration of your upcoming award season, you had decided that it was mandatory to visit the hot springs. Everyone on your team — the backup dancers, band, and hair and makeup — were ecstatic to learn that they were being involved with it too.

This high-end resort had accommodated your entire team to receive their own private spring with an all-inclusive menu too. 

It was thanks from the owner for the free PR and, of course, because they were some of your biggest fans. So, in thanks, everyone got to enjoy the springs.

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

As of the past month, things between Kirishima and you had improved a lot.

With Kirishima no longer needing to run a marathon daily to find where you were, he would find himself walking at your side. He no longer felt like you hated him. There was respect and actual friendship between the two of you. You joked with him, showed him memes and TikTok, sent him snapchat streaks, and invited him to watch weird shows with you. You even complained to him about the things that annoyed you, namely Kimiko’s attention being stolen by other clients and the rude conversations you would have with the lawyer.

It made Kirishima’s chest warm up knowing that you were friends now.

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

But there were some things that Kirishima would not have expected to… arise.

Namely you growing to be comfortable enough to walk around with nothing but a thin pair of panties and a large shirt. You curling into his side whenever you watched a show together in the bus, the way your lips brushed against his neck when he leaned down to hug you, or the very so not obvious teasing you would do when you changed in front of him. It was as if you were watching his every reaction, enjoying the way that his eyes horribly tore away, or the silent hitch in his throat whenever you speed his heart up.

The biggest surprise arose the night after the failed kidnapping attempt:

You had come to his room, hours after you were supposed to have fallen asleep.

Your eyes were sunken, still a bit tired, and the bruise on your cheek was looking bad. In your arms was a white binder undoubtedly filled with the introductory packet you had received at your initial meeting. Kirishima had opened the door in his sleepy state in nothing but gym shorts. He had barely started dozing off, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of what could have happened if you hadn’t managed to scream, and so he kept tossing and turning.

Seeing you outside of his room, his head dropped down to look at you properly, and his fist rubbing at his eye fell, “Y/n?”

“Did I wake you?” you asked, your face filled with a shocked, near uncomfortable, and embarrassed expression he doesn’t recall ever seeing on you. “I’m so sorry! I’ll wait until—”

“No,” Kirishima grunts while he shakes his head, his voice raspy and dry from his lack of use. “I’ve been tossing and turning, um, what is it? Do you want to come in?”

“I-If that’s okay?”

Kirishima breathes out a bit, his shoulders relaxing as he smiles softly, “Come on, let’s talk about what’s on your mind.”

The door clicked behind your tentative steps with an echo, and Kirishima watched as you walked into the hotel room with wariness and caution.

“Would you like some tea?” Kirishima offered, picking up a shirt from his dresser and pulling it over his body. The fabric was tight against his chest and shoulders, but felt more appropriate to wear around you.

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

You stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to sit, stand, or lay.

“Go ahead and make the bed,” Kirishima offered, taking the chair by the desk. “I promise it’s still clean.”

You laugh slightly, smile strained but grateful as you sit at the edge of the bed, binder resting on your lap.

“Thanks, I wouldn’t want to sit on a dirty bed,” you joke, but it sounds weak to Kirishima’s ears.

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

“You have my portfolio,” he shrugs, leaning forward so that his forearms rest on his knees. “I have a feeling you have some questions.”

“Oh, right,” you whisper, your eyebrows scrunching as you open the binder to the first page, but your eyes are focused on the desk. “What’s the medication for?”

Kirishima turns his head to follow your gaze and comes across the yellow tinted medicine containers.

“My PTSD,” Kirishima answers honestly, his voice soft with emotion, but there was no shame in it. “My service had a difficult end.”

“That’s actually… that’s what I came to talk about,” you rush, your hands slamming the binder closed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, obviously I won’t push it! God, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it��s okay,” Kirishima interrupted, his smile sad, but he stood up, his body a tower in front of yours as he urged you to sit back down. “It’s okay; I don’t mind talking about it.”

“B-But what if I say something that makes it all worse?”

A pause.

“Then I’ll tell you that it’s too much.”

A nod.

“Are you… are you still experiencing a lot of symptoms?” you ask, your fingers tightening and untightening around the binder.

“Some days are worse than others,” Kirishima admits, his shoulders shrugging. “I don’t experience much anxiety while in crowds anymore; I don’t have many flashbacks to those days anymore, not since February at least. I do still get… I still get night terrors and dream of that day. It’s nowhere near as bad as the first few months after the accident, but it’s still here.”

“What happened?” you asked after a bit, morbidly curious.

The file had all the details that proved Kirishima to be a master of firearms during his entire time on the force. He was a powerful combatist, and his ranking was a clear indicator of the respect and skills he had. Still, it was the quick honorable discharge, the near year-long hospitalization, and the current inability to use a firearm that concerned you.

What had happened?

“I was involved in a grenade explosion on my last day on tour. I was the only one who managed to survive the blast,” Kirishima easily stated, his voice quiet.

“Oh my god, I… holy shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, it’s all good. There were only two others around, and one of them was already dead.”

“Was that um, Major—”

“We called him Crimson Riot, actually,” Kirishima smiled, a chuckle light on his tongue as he leaned back onto the chair, nodding. “Yeah, that was him.”

“Crimson Riot,” you repeat, nodding. “Did you watch him… watch him die?”

Kirishima presses his lips tightly together, and for a moment, you’re unsure if he’s going to cry, answer you, or tell you to leave. There’s a whirlwind of emotions on your optimistic and typically jubilant bodyguard despite your asshole tendencies that make your stomach twist.

“Yes,” Kirishima finally answers, and you nod.

It’s hours into the morning before you finally depart back to your room, the horrors of Kirishima’s past still pounding into your ears. Kirishima wouldn’t notice, and neither would you, but on his shirt and yours, there’s a few drops of tears the both of you shed when you said goodnight.

Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou, while on an active warzone, had accidentally struck and killed his superior officer, his friend, his role model Crimson Riot, thinking that he was nothing more than an enemy target as he sat wounded behind a wall. He died on his lap, and as someone came to help, a grenade landed two meters away before detonating.

“K...Kiri...shima?” Crimson Riot had whispered as he fell to his knees, blood gushing and seeping through his clothes, spilling onto Kirishima’s lap. “I’ll be okay.”

For whatever reason, since that night, Kirishima felt something in him shift. He still took his medication, still had his virtual therapy sessions when he could fit them in, and even had painful night terrors of that moment, but it was becoming less frequent.

He wasn’t made of glass.

There had been more instances after the kidnapping attempt, but unlike the last times, Kirishima was prepared. He had stopped each one, keeping you safe and sound. As of one week ago, he had officially been given a firearm to keep strapped to his thigh at all times now.

It was an unfamiliar weight, one that still twisted his stomach and made him nervous, but he knew the reason why it was needed. Since the gun had been added to his gear, the attacks stopped. He was definitely not ready to be firing it anytime soon, but it had deterred the attackers for the time being.

Kirishima paused when he heard his earpiece ring, and he dropped his phone where he had been watching your interview despite being there himself.

“Talk to me,” Kirishima answered, his finger pressing the accept button.

“Kirishima!” came the distressed voice of Kimiko, “We just got a tip!”

Kirishima stilled, his eyes scanning the empty hallways that stretched throughout the private hot springs.

“I don’t know, but a person with connections with this mastermind said something about how there were two more events he was staging. Today is one of them!”

Kirishima’s eyes widened, his lips parting to answer Kimiko when instead there was a large, loud crash in the water from inside your room. He assumed the worst.

“Y/n!” Kirishima shouted, hands throwing open the sliding door and racing through the storage room, the shower, and exited out into the hot spring.

Steam curled through the wind, the white wisps of steam feeling warm and light against Kirishima’s skin, and Kirishima panicked when he couldn’t see your shadow or figure in the hot springs.

“Where is she?! Is she alright?!” Kimiko panicked, her voice panicking already. “I’ll call the—”

Kirishima turned on his heel, ready to complete a full sweep of the outdoor hot spring when he crashed into something smaller than he was… smaller, softer, and definitely the shape of a woman. Kirishima felt his entire body stiffen when his rough palms felt the undeniable feeling of wet, warm skin.

“Oh my god,” he heard you shriek. “KIRISHIMA!”

“She’s all good, Kimiko,” Kirishima stifled out, his voice tight, his head slamming backward so that his eyes were concentrated on the starry night sky.

“...sorry… uh aha! Another client of mine is calling, goodbye!” Kimiko’s apology was meek and small before she hung up.

Kirishima’s mind was racing a mile a minute, but his body was frozen, unmoving like a rock when he realized that pressing to his stomach was, without a doubt, your breasts.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What are you doing in here, pervert?!” you splutter, your hands pressing to his stomach as you step away. “Are you a pervert or something?!”

“I, no! No! Of course not! Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry! I’ll go! There was a tip that something was going to happen right now, and there was a crash and—”

“What are you looking at?” you exclaim, squeaky frustration heavy on your tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with the sky! Look me in the eyes? Have you never been to a co-ed hot spring before?!”

“Y-Yes, sorry!” Kirishima apologized, bowing slightly in apology before he peered down. Still, his face bursted in a flame as he watched the way your jaw dropped in disbelief, the dewy wetness of the hot spring clinging to your body. You were, obviously, soaked, and Kirishima bit his tongue as hard as he could to keep the whimper from expelling past his lips when he saw the light gleaming off your breasts. But he watched your face shift between a million emotions, each one appearing too fast for him to read, too fast to register, but he saw the way a single-arm wrap around your breast and the other shoving into his stomach.

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

“That was a test! This is my private room! I have the right to not be willing to be looked at right now!” you shrieked as Kirishima spun around, allowing you the complete privacy of his gaze.

“You told me to look at you!” he squawked. “Y-You told me, and I listened because of our contract!”

Kirishima could feel his body trembling, his mind reeling in disbelief that he definitely saw you in your entire nakedness, and if the swirling heat in his stomach had anything to say about it, he liked it. Fuck.

There was a soft laugh and the sound of sloshing water as you probably (he wouldn’t know because he wasn’t looking) reentered the spring.

“I know, I was teasing,” you sing, and he can tell the water is gliding around your body. “Turn around, Kiri, let’s talk.”

“Haha, um, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Kirishima admits, although sitting in this steam-filled space with just you sounds so very nice. 

“Why not?” you asked, voice sounding a bit upset.

“I’m supposed to be outside, doing my job?”

“Augh, but these private springs are so boring alone,” your voice whines; the water sloshes, and Kirishima winces at the slight throb on his tongue as he continues to look at not your direction. “Turn around, Kiri.”

Not too long ago, you had taken to calling him Kiri, a subtle change, a not unusual nickname people gave him. But just because it was you, his stomach flipped and twisted, and now with the image of your tits in mind, his dick throbbed. 

Gulping, Kirishima turned, his gaze bashfully looking down at you before glancing away. You were chest-deep in the hot springs, tendrils of your wet hair sticking to your neck. Was he dead? Maybe dreaming?

No, his dreams were never like this.

“Do you want to come in?” you continued to ask, your body moving towards him in the water until you reached the edge of the pool, arms testing into the black rocks. “You’re the only one not in one, and since I hate being in these alone, I figured you’d like to join.”

Kirishima wanted to join. More than anything, he wanted to take his clothes off and jump into the springs with you, for you, but that would be unprofessional. Entirely and utterly unprofessional.

“Please?” you ask softly, pleadingly, and Kirishima makes the mistake of locking his gaze with yours. 

“...fine, but I’ll be on the other side of the spring,” he concedes, his steps near clumsy and oafish as he stumbles backward to the shower and closet.

“Such a gentleman pervert,” you tease, fingers curling as you wave at him until Kirishima finally closes the door behind him.

The empty room is nearly deafening in its silence and the future as Kirishima slumps against the sliding door, excited apprehension rippling through every cell of his skin as a smile spreads across his face. He walks to the storage room, and despite it being a private room, there were two closets. The closet not already occupying your clothes had the things needed for him, and thankfully, it fit. 

He undressed slowly, folding his clothes and placing them into the cubbies. Fully naked, he approached the showers, and under the lukewarm showerhead, he cleaned his body of any grime, dirt, and sweat. 

Feeling refreshed and clean, Kirishima began his descent to the hot spring, his heart hammering when his fingers grabbed the handle of the door.

“I’m coming in,” he announced, a healthy amount of fear, excitement, and heat drumming through him.

“I’ll keep my virgin eyes away from your body, don’t worry,” came your slow tease, and Kirishima snorted softly.

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

Just like the first time, the entrance to the spring was warm, the steam seeming thicker than last time, clouding the outdoor room and his sight. You were at the furthest out part of the pool, your back towards them as you worked your fingers through your scalp.

Discarding his slippers at the edge, Kirishima climbed into the pool.

The pool only went as far as his thigh, and he sank into the warm water. It felt wonderful on his body, relaxing his muscles just enough for him to wonder when was the last time he had managed to visit a hot spring.

“I’m in,” Kirishima said, his arms rising up out of the water, resting onto the black stone. “You can turn around now.”

“God, took you long enough,” you tease, your body twisting so that you were facing him again.

To Kirishima’s complete and utter surprise, you stilled, eyes dragging up and down his exposed chest, eyes locked on the series of tattoos all over his right pectoral, and trailed down his right arm. His lips felt dry as your eyes shifted back to his face, to his arm, and back to him. The smile on your face felt weak, but it sent a spiral of dizzying heat through Kirishima when he noticed the hushed lust.

For a while, the two of you remained at opposite ends of the hot spring. Eyes closed, hummed melodies passing through the song. You asked Kirishima about how he felt, if his medication was due for refills, if therapy was okay (he was doing better, a refill was due in two weeks, and therapy was going the same). He asked you about your relationship with Kimiko, with the lawyer, and if you had any real friends within the music industry (Kimiko was like an older cousin to you, the lawyer was a pain to deal with at times, and surprisingly, you did meet some genuine friends). You questioned how his friends were doing, if he had any contact with them despite their busy schedules. 

So Kirishima found himself retelling stories of his coworkers turned close friends. Each story he told left both of you with sore stomachs from laughter, and tears at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard. 

“Was the tip story true?” you asked once the quiet overcame and grew old. You shift through the water, getting a bit closer to Kirishima.

Kirishima coughed, suddenly feeling a tad bit shy about his posture, but decided to keep from moving.

“You honestly think I would have barged into here just because I wanted to see you?”

Truthfully, had Kirishima been a man without morals, chivalry, or disrespect for you, he would have. Definitely would have.

“Let a girl dream,” you smile, like a luring siren as you wander closer by just a step. “It would go against everything I know about you, but it’s fun to tease.”

“You’re a bigger brat than I thought you would be,” Kirishima smiles back, trying his best to not show the way goosebumps were bursting against his skin, his eyes locked on yours, trying to not get distracted by the way your wet skin made his mind spin.

“I don’t think I’m a brat,” you counter, getting close enough that he could feel the currents of the water with your movement. But you were far enough that Kirishima felt like pointing out the fact you disregarded his keep apart rule would be a mistake. “How am I a brat?”

The sound of the water rippling through the springs along with the growing noises of the bugs began a melody around the two of you, and all Kirishima could do was stare at the way you blinked your eyes slowly — like a feline stalking a prey.

“A lot of ways, really,” Kirishima breathes, his heart rising up to his throat as he felt your hands gingerly place themselves on his knees.

“Yeah?” you ask, parting through his naked legs, and Kirishima felt his breathing stop when your exposed chest pressed against his. Your lips were ghosting so far from his but tantalizingly close enough that he felt drunk off your sweet breath. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Kirishima sucked in air, his arms resisting movement, and his eyes glanced down at the way your mouth was millimeters from his. His dick was very much interested in what he could do about it, and when your hands grazed up his thigh and onto his chest, Kirishima could feel something rumble in his chest.

He moved to eliminate the space, but there was a crash in the following spring, pushing you away from him long before he could claim your mouth.

“FUCK!” the person in the opposite spring screamed, and Kirishima’s eyes closed in his muted annoyance as you sighed.

His eyes dropped to the water, giving you the privacy to rise out of the water and make your way over to the wall.

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

“Give me a warning the next time you try fucking your hot bodyguard in the middle of a private onsen!”

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

And with that, Kirishima took this as his embarrassed cue to leave.

He stood at the entrance of your private spring for about twenty minutes, entirely uncomfortable with the still hard dick in his pants, rubbing and chaffing against his jeans as he stood there. Eventually, you exited the hot spring, face glowing from the steam and eyes avoiding his gaze as you walked back to your room. Your robe was tight on your body, the hair on the nape of your neck pressed to your skin.

Kirishima sighed as he watched you enter your room, your smile short as you nodded a simple goodnight before letting the door slam shut behind you.

Rubbing his face, Kirishima listened to the voices in his intercom talk about how nothing had happened tonight. An attempted unwelcome visitor tried to get into your room, but they had stopped him. They didn’t fight, but they had run away the moment they caught on to the fact that they weren’t exactly authentic.

Kirishima sighed as he slumped into his room, collapsing on the too small bed as he found himself looking at the ceiling in deep concentration.

What was he going to do now?

That was undeniably sexual, his still semi-hard dick damning evidence to the known fact that he wanted you. By god did he want you. Wanted you beneath him, over him, splitting yourself down onto his cock while you gripped your arms and legs around him, fucking down onto his driving cock. 

Kirishima groaned low in his chest, guilt blooming in the back of his throat as his palm rubbed his pulsing cock.

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

“Kirishima-san?” a voice broke through his earpiece, and Kirishima nearly jumped out of his skin. “Are you there?”

“Hi Kimiko,” Kirishima sighed, his dick deflating instantly. “Everything all right?”

“Ah, yes! Sorry about earlier, the false tip and the sudden abandonment!” Kimiko embarrassingly apologized. “My client was ringing for the fourth time, and while I care deeply for y/n, I had to take it!”

“Mm, no worries, Kimiko,” Kirishima smiled politely despite the lack of visual contact. “How can I help you?”

“Ah, yes,” Kimiko asserted, her tone changing from apology to one of formality. “So, about the visitor incident I’m sure you were brought attention to, it seems that the vehicle they came in was with the driver's plate: T082-23. Does that sound familiar?”

“Not currently,” Kirishima sighed, his body stretching into a sitting up position. “Does it to you?”

“No…” Kimiko admitted, and Kirishima could feel the worried frown on her face. “Well, I just wanted to call and give you that information. It was passed along to me, and they mentioned they hadn’t told you. And since I was going to give you the schedule for the upcoming JRA’s award day, I figured I’d let you know!”

“No problem! Let’s go over the schedule now?”

“Yes! I have a client meeting in America right after this! Can you believe it? An American celebrity wants my help?!”

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

“Okay, so this is how the day’s going to go!”

Date: 7/10 Time: 18:00 Location: Tokyo Hotel Room 101

Kirishima watched as an entire team was getting you dressed up.

Two people were doing your hair, three people doing your nails, one person doing your makeup, and five getting one of your three outfits for the night ready.

According to you, as you had strutted around in these outfits nearly two weeks ago were your red carpet and beginning of the award show outfit, your performance outfit, and of course, the after-party outfit. Each one was different, yet when adorned on your body was a perfect replica of who you were.

Most importantly, the two of you had decided to ignore every single instance of tremendous sexual energy and desire that basically leaked from both of your pores. It was for the best to ignore it. There was no point in pursuing it, especially when there was a known hunt for you, and Kirishima was the last line of defense between you and whoever it was.

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

Since the night of the initial kidnapping that finally closed the gap between you and Kirishima, there was something that the caught criminal said that stuck with him.

Everything you had coming your way, you deserved, he had said in bitter spite.

The interesting thing was that it was the lawyer who had said that, multiple times at that. The lawyer seemed to have everything to fuel him to rage against you. Everything you said or tried, the lawyer was on your heel, barking at you that it was wrong. Kirishima had also seen the contracts between you and the lawyer, and the amount that he was paid to be your attorney was not large at all.

The mass majority of the funds you earned were always funneled towards charities and organizations you trusted to help people in need — in fact, it was almost 80% of your total earnings. A meek, barely larger than 20% was split between you, your lawyer, Kimiko, your music crew, and any other unforeseen expenses. The lawyer was also in a situation where he was not in demand with clients, and if you weren’t heeding his expensive tag, he needed a new contract with you.

A contract he was always demanding to discuss with you that you denied to change.

Attacks tended to happen days after you and the lawyer tumbled, not enough to rouse suspicion if you weren’t looking, but Kirishima was. He just needed damning evidence now.

Something.

Anything.

And for some reason, his gut was screaming at him that something big was going to happen tonight, that tonight was going to be the last attack—the one to end everything.

So he had told everyone about it. Kimiko, the security at the JRA’s, even you. It made him nervous.

It made his hand sweat, the gun strapped to his thigh feeling like hot iron as he stood about as you laughed with your makeup crew.

Kirishima swore, promised, and vowed he would protect you.

He was going to.

And when the gold dress was tied to your body, fitting you beautifully, Kirishima found himself unable to look away like strands of your hair framed your temples.

“What do you think, Kiri? Will I be on the Best Dressed List?” you asked, tearing Kirishima’s attention away from the bodice and skirt of the dress. Your eyes were bright, hopeful, yearning for a positive reaction from him.

“How could you not be?” Kirishima admitted, his grin toothy, and he shifted against the wall.

“You’ll make me blush,” you grin back, eyes batting just a bit as you clasp your hands together. It takes everything in Kirishima to keep from striding across the space between the two of you and kissing you silly. “Are we ready to go?”

Kirishima wet his lips, unwillingly tearing his gaze from you, and whispers into the intercom.

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

Straightening back up, Kirishima smiled at you, his head motioning towards the door.

“Alright, y/n, let’s see you make some history?”

“Damn right I will.”

Kirishima smiled as he exited first, carving the path for you. 

Paparazzi were on you immediately, the lights flashing and terribly bright as he helped you through the throngs of them. His hand pressed to your back as they screamed demands, most of which you complied with until Kirishima stated that you would be late. You, unfortunately, couldn’t be late to the awards show.

Ushering you into the limousine, Kirishima follows in shortly after you, scrunching up in his seat as he sits opposite of you. However, your typical light and bright demeanor are gone; instead, you seem almost anxious as you open your handbag.

“You okay there?” Kirishima asks as he realizes you pulled out a distinctly obvious metal flask.

“Awards make me nervous,” you painfully admit; you're weakly smiling as you knock back a shot of the drink. “I hate winning and losing; the alcohol makes me less… of a wreck. Do you want some? I think it’s apple soju, I don’t know, a good luck gift from Kimiko.”

Kirishima grins, his eyes rolling as he decides to decline the drink. “Sorry, love, I think that I need to be completely sober for today.”

You scrunch your nose, obviously displeased, “Lame, who shows up to these awards sober?”

“Me,” Kirishima laughed, his head tilting back and scraping against the ceiling of the limousine. 

“Such a prude, sober, pervert,” you sigh, taking yet another swig before putting the flask back into your bag. 

“Such a brat.”

Just like every previous instance, your eyes seem to glow in glee at that name, your lips curling into a pleased smirk as you shrug. It's a sight that makes Kirishima’s mouth dry and heart racing. Fuck, he should not be thinking about fucking you in the limousine right now.

But before the heat in the limousine could simmer to one of undeniable boiling, you had arrived.

Kirishima cleared his throat, sending a quick wink your way as he exited the car first. The first stop was for him to join the lineup to guide you through all the different photo and interview sessions. No one wanted pictures of him emerging from the limo after all. 

There's a moment where after Kirishima closes the door, your eyes filled with worry and excitement as he winked goodbye, that things changed. He stood up, his eyes already scanning the area for anything suspicious, when he saw the all too familiar van.

T082-23.

His eyes widened, his head looking around for anyone else, but there was no one to help. No one could do anything as the car continued to drive away, disappearing from Kirishima’s line of sight. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hands instinctively went to his thigh. He had his firearm… he had it.

With nothing but a quick report to the head of security via his com, Kirishima pushed on ahead, waiting for your descent down the red carpet.

When you eventually emerged from the limousine, Kirishima found that at this moment, the entire world faded away as a gloved hand assisted you out of the vehicle. You were elegant, stunning, a realistic vibrant portrait within his world of greys. As you took photos for the cameras, he was by your side a few strides away as you talked to reporters.

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

“For all the pain in the world that she is, she’s quite charming from a distance, huh?” a voice spoke to his side, and Kirishima froze. His eyes widened completely when he noticed that standing beside him was none other than the lawyer.

The lawyer was dressed in a nice suit, glasses perched on his nose, and for the first time Kirishima had seen, the scowl was not quite so hard.

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

This was the man he was so sure was the reason behind your every attack. A man fueled by insufficient funding, a need for a new contract that would never be approved without your signature.

“What are you doing here?” Kirishima asked, subtlety never being something he was ever good with. “I’ve never seen you anywhere except to argue with Y/n about contracts. This doesn’t seem like the appropriate time to be discussing it.”

“Kimiko wanted me to give her a new contract proposal to give to y/n. However, to be fair, it’s quite easy for anything to come down to an argument with y/n,” he shrugs, and Kirishima watches a cloud of emotions pass between the man’s eyes. “At least between her and me, we’ve never gotten along, but I suppose that’s how it is for any type of family who works together.”

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

“Yes, I know it’s strange to believe. I am quite ugly, and she is not, but we’re family.”

Kirishima’s mind was racing now. It didn’t make sense. If he was family, why would he be in such pursuit of potentially murdering you? If you were family, he was sure that you would help out? If he needed a raise like he thought, wouldn’t you have helped?

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

“Kiri!” your voice broke into his mind and tore him back to reality. You waved at him, then passed a stuck-out tongue to the lawyer in a teasing fashion. “Let’s go in?”

Kirishima looked over at the lawyer who greeted a woman, who was also walking down the red carpet, a celebrity he could name no less, with a warm kiss. 

Oh fuck.

He needed to call Kimiko; he was so very wrong.

You had won two awards so far, and at this very moment, Kirishima was being ushered back to his seat in the audience as you were being escorted to the main stage to perform your latest song. You had removed your gold dress for a black, sleek gown. Your lipstick changed to a dark red, and your hands trembled in the white lace gloves you wore.

“Oh, Kiri,” you wheezed almost, your hands shaking as the announcers on stage were announcing the last awards before your performance. “I’m getting nervous. What if I mess up or sing off-key? I’d be the laughing stock!”

Kirishima laughed gently, his hands easily encompassing your waist as he stilled your frantic moves. “Y/l/n y/n, if there is anything I know for sure about you is that you are one hell of a singer and a performer. The awards you’re nominated for tonight speak for themselves! You never fail at your performances, and even if you somehow manage to sing off-key, I’m sure that no one would notice! Your biggest fan in the world won’t notice, at least.”

Not more than seven days ago, when you had cried about the impending nerves of being an artist, Kirishima had come to claim the title of being your biggest fan in the world. It had made you chuckle through your tears before coming near a hysterical laugh as the two of you held each other close.

“You’re a nut, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, hands resting on his lower ribs, but your smile was bright, warm. You paused a bit, fingers pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll sing just for you then, but I think I should take another swig of that soju.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Could you tell that Takeyama is completely drunk off her ass?”

“...she’s drunk?!”

“Exactly, I’ll be fine,” you breathe, taking a new smaller flask from the purse Kirishima was holding for you and taking the final swig. Your face contorts at the bitter liquid. “Ew, Kimiko really fucked me over with this one. Why is it blue?! Have you ever seen blue apple soju?!”

“No?” Kirishima startled, his eyes looking at the indeed splash of blue liquid tainting a small part of your gloves. “Who gave you that one? What happened with the other flask of yours?”

“Oh, Kimiko sent it along after I lost my other one; it’s her own flask,” you said before the backstage crew whisked you away to begin your set, and without you, Kirishima was sent to the audience.

Kirishima felt trapped as he was ushered into his seat, his eyes scanning the entire audience for something suspicious, a familiar face perhaps. His broad shoulders continued to bump into his neighbors, their disgruntled noises doing nothing to stop his worry.

“And now, Y/n,” came the strong voice of the male announcer, and the light dimmed.

Kirishima watched as the spotlight came down upon you, a golden halo of colors against your darkened gown as the instrumentals began to play in the background. And he saw you take a step forward, the building motifs suddenly silencing when you finally sang the first note.

Despite the panic arising in Kirishima, the unknown of who was behind it all, what was going to happen, he stilled at the unmatched strength and ambiance of your voice.

You sang as you did at every stage, to every audience.

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

And then, with one last sound, one last melody, and your hand holding your microphone dropped. Your chest heaving, tears falling down your face, and the roar of the audience was silent. You looked through the audience, unable to see, but for some reason, you just knew where Kirishima was.

You smile.

But as the looming sounds begin to fill your ear again, you find that the world is hazy.

You swallow, eyes unfocused as you bowed, hurrying to leave the stage.

Kirishima watched as you took a final stumbling step off the stage, something he felt was going to be written off as you stepped on your dress. But his mind whirled.

The lawyer felt like a setup; the contracts made no sense, the blue soju.

How were they related?

What connected them?

“Oh, fuck,” Kirishima whispered, horrified, and immediately his finger pressed to his earpiece. “Find Y/n! Now!”

Kirishima was racing through the back of the venue, the announcers' voices still ringing through the dirty, bleak hallways. You had just won but was written off as being somewhere backstage; after all, the show must go on.

Voices screamed in his earpiece, each declining to have found you. No one had seen you after you stepped off the stage. No one knew who had taken you.

Kirishima noticed the doors closing at the end of the hallway, and with a dreading sense of doom, Kirishima removed the gun from his harness. And with the devil on his heels, he ran.

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

You were passed out, draped limp, confused, and woozy against Kimiko’s body, and two men knocked unconscious beside them. To anyone else, it looked as if Kimiko had saved you, some guardian angel within this world, but if Kirishima’s gut meant anything, he knew better.

“Kirishima-san!’ Kimiko squeaked as Kirishima raised his gun, his body tense, unwilling to take a chance on her. “I don’t know what those two were doing! I was saving her, I swear!”

“Don’t do this, Kimiko,” Kirishima whispered, his head shaking. “I figured it out.”

There was a shift in Kimiko’s face at that; the scared unknowing hero melted into one of anger, resentment, one of someone who knew they had been outed.

“So, you figured it out,” she bitterly spoke, her arms that were supporting you from behind revealing to be a firearm of your own. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I can’t say I figured out your reasoning; honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I felt like it was you,” Kirishima carefully states, his heart roaring at the implied danger of the firearm against your chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kimiko.”

Kimiko stares, her lips forming a small o before changing into one of a large, near unattached grin.

“Anything stupid? If anyone is doing anything stupid, it's this selfish prick!” Kimiko spits, her arms tightening around you, making you whimper ever so gently in pain. “She thinks she’s so great, so rich, so smart! Just because she wastes most of her money on stupid shit like charity! Everyone thinks working for her is a dream, but they’re all blind idiots!”

Kirishima’s eyes widen as he notices the glazed, unfocused of your eyes as you shift your attention over to him. Were you listening?

“What’s wrong with the contract?” he asks, a small attempt to diffuse the situation.

“The fact she pays me next to nothing, and yet she works me half to death!”

“You have multiple clients, don’t you?” Kirishima splutters, unsure as to what was wrong. “Why is this one contract so important you wanted to frame her lawyer?!”

Kimiko laughs; it’s pitchy, almost hysterical as she bends over, your body slumping further onto the floor. “That was a lie! All a fucking lie! Do you know that I knew no one when I first started? Y/n is a name everyone wants. I don’t need to do anything to get her things! The world wants her! But the other clients? None of them stayed, none of them wanted me past a month! The salary was okay when she was a snot-nosed brat, but ten years later?! NO! She won’t fucking listen. She never fucking listens to anything but herself! So she has the option to give me the eighty percent, or fucking die here!”

Suddenly the gun in Kirishima’s hand feels like a ton, the skin on the back of his neck crawling and slicking with sweat.

“You know how much those charities mean to her,” Kirishima whispers. “She won’t do it.”

Kimiko trembles for a second, her arm holding the firearm lowering as she looks at the wall, shaking.

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Kimiko realizes, horror and uncertainty flashing across her face. “I guess… she has to die, oh my god, she has to die.”

At that moment, the world slowed down, and Kirishima swore he could see the atoms, the electricity flowing through the space between them. Kimiko’s arm holding the gun raising back up to your temple, her smile detached, horrific yet gleeful.

His body trembled as he doubted himself, his mind unsure if the finger on the trigger was going to be strong enough to fire away. Could he do it?

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

Kirishima raised his arm, his focus blaring, his past just for a moment, forgotten.

BANG!

“The effects of the rohypnol have already worn out. Thankfully she wasn’t given a whole pill. If she experiences any nausea or throws up, please bring her back, should anything else happen, she’ll be okay.”

The words of the doctor rang in Kirishima’s ears. For tonight, they were going to be discharging you to him. Thankfully, it was all happening in Tokyo, so Kirishima’s apartment was near, and if Bakugou was true to his word, it was clean.

With the help of hospital security, he had managed to get your tuxedo concealed body into a car, and the two of you rode off to his apartment. You’ve been silent the entire time, eyes downcasted as you sit pressed to his side, feeling like a small child compared to him. You knew that he was much larger than you, a near two feet taller, but this felt unmatched. 

Kirishima’s jacket was warm around you, it’s sheer largeness another dress on your body, and despite the horrific turn of events, you were feeling warm. You couldn’t remember much of what transpired after stumbling off stage, but you did remember Kirishima bursting through the doors, a look of anger and fear blistering off his person in such a way that made you whimper when you remembered.

You remembered the onsen basically every night, cursing your stupid makeup team for interrupting a night that definitely would have ended with you fucking Kirishima. You cursed yourself for being a coward and not just saying fuck it and fucking him afterward despite the brief awkwardness.

He wanted you, it was clear as day, and you wanted him as well.

Tonight.

“Sorry about how small my apartment is, or if it’s messy, I don’t actually know if my friends have been keeping up with it,” Kirishima apologized, guiding you into the apartment by the small of your back. “You’ll be safe here tonight, and I promise we can get back to your own place tomorrow!”

“Oh, don’t apologize, it’s okay,” you smile, feeling flushed as you cross the entryway to the apartment. His apartment, despite not being home in so long, is clean. The halls aren’t messy, and a hint of lavender is saturated to the air. The dim hallway lights were barely bright enough to cause you to squint as it was dark out. “Thank you for having me tonight, especially after everything.”

At the hospital, you had been given a pair of sweats and a cotton t-shirt. The change in outfit from your event dress was definitely needed, and even though you were sure your makeup was streaked down your face, you felt good hidden in the depths of Kirishima’s jacket.

“Are you hungry?” Kirishima asked, handing over his guest slippers, which you gratefully accepted. “I might have some microwaveable food leftover.”

“Ramen doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit as Kirishima unbuttons the first few buttons on his white dress shirt. You were instantly captivated by the movement, your eyes shifting back to his face when he began to walk off towards the kitchen.

Kirishima talked warmly, keeping the conversation going merrily and bright throughout the entire time in the kitchen. He undoubtedly knew you weren’t entirely okay, and at moments like this, you were entirely grateful for his sweet personality. 

To be fair, you knew that you had been quite unfair to Kirishima in the beginning. Looking back at the first entire month of knowing him, you were horrified and impressed that Kirishima didn’t demand to be dropped. You had been selfish, stubborn, a bottom line brat, and he took it day after day. It wasn’t that you disliked him back then; hell, you had been in a near state of delirium when he entered the door during your first meeting because you had no idea such huge men existed to the caliber of his hotness.

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

It was okay now; after all, if he was genuinely bitter about that entire month still, the onsen said otherwise.

It didn’t take long for your stomach to be filled with warm broth, soft boiled eggs, and ramen noodles. Kirishima did, in fact, have ramen, fresh eggs, and some vegetables. In a grand act of preparing you the most sufficient dinner he could, Kirishima presented this under budget ramen and laughed when you said it was terrific.

But it was growing late.

The two of you still sat at his table that was full of a card game, your empty ramen bowls, and cups of water. The clock on the oven read 23:38, and the city lights were slowly dying.

“Are you ready for bed?” Kirishima eventually asked you. 

You looked up from your joined hands; your fingers had been playing with his thick and long fingers for some time now. The apartment grew steadily quieter as you studied and attempted to memorize each callous and scar on his hands. They were definitely marked and nicked, the sign of the warrior he once was.

“Depends on the bed,” you tease, lips rising into a small smile as you compare your much tinier hands than his. Your fingertips barely passed the edge of his palm. “What does a big guy like you sleep in? A twin? Tatami mat?”

Kirishima laughed, his hands twisting in yours, wrapping it around so that he raised your hands up to press a kiss to the center of your palms. 

“A futon, brat,” Kirishima explained, his smile small but sharp with his humor. “Let’s get you to bed?”

You frown. 

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

“I’m sure your stuffing in a trash bag had holes in it.”

“That’s okay,” Kirishima laughed, standing up and quickly taking you to your feet as well. “It’s just for a night, I’ll live.”

Your face warmed immediately as he guided you down the hallway of his apartment before finally coming into what was definitely his room.

Kirishima’s scent was faint in this room, cinnamon, wood, and warm spices. It made your eyes flutter as you observed his room from the entryway as he began to set up the room. 

His eye for interior decoration was quite… different. You smiled brightly as you glanced around; the diverse and rather boyish decorations around the room warmed your heart. It seemed exactly like what you would think of for Kirishima. 

“Well, that’s all!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands landing on his hips in triumph as he looked around. “The bathroom is the next door over, and I’ll leave a toothbrush out for you. I also left out a new t-shirt of mine if you want to change!”

You nod some more, watching as Kirishima seems unsure of what to do next. He looks around, coughs a bit before nodding.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

“Um, can we talk?” you interrupt, arms wrapping around your body. “I have some things I want to say.”

“Oh, sure!”

“You can sit,” you say, motioning toward the bed. “I have a few things to get off my chest.”

Kirishima pauses for a bit, his eyes looking you over before he eventually nods, and he sits down. The bed slightly creaks under his weight, and you feel your body warm-up at the sound. You want to hear the bed creak more, to rock under the weight of you and him pressed against the sheets as you cried his name.

“What is it?” he asks gently, observing you.

“I just…” you huff, words failing you, your tongue feeling heavy. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me.”

“It was my job to do that,” Kirishima smiled warmly, his arms crossing again.

He was relaxed.

“I mean, I can’t even begin to believe that it was Kimiko who was behind all that, even though we know it was… I know it was,” you trail off, shivering slightly as you remember your ex-managers demented laugh in your ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” Kirishima spoke with finality. “I promised to myself at the first meeting I was going to protect you, hell the entire world would. You’re not going to be taken down by pathetic people like that, not you.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I feel like I should repay you in some way, though,” you rub the back of your neck, eyes fluttering just the slightest bit flirtatious. Kirishima looked at you with full mooned eyes, his arms unfolding and his palms resting onto the bedspread.

“You repay me plenty already,” came his whispered answer, so quiet, so pure you almost smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lip, wetting the drying skin as you take a step toward him. The shoulders of the jacket slowly fall from your own shoulders, pooling just above your elbows as you stop before him, hands resting daintily on his broad shoulders.

“And what if I want something?” you ask, finding yourself stemming with energy as his legs part, allowing you closer access to him. 

You step in closer and closer until your outer thighs are ghosting against the inner part of his.

“I think it’s in our contract for me to do everything that you request if I remember correctly,” Kirishima whispers, his bright clear red eyes turning a burnt shade: dark and ever consuming. 

“And if I want you to finish what you started over at the onsen?” you press, fingers curling against the muscles of his shoulders before locking behind his neck.

His nose was brushing against yours, cold yet burning against your own skin.

“I’ll gladly show you what I wanted to do that night,” he grunts, eyes deadly, and for the first time, his hands held your waist.

You took a second to recover, your skin sparking with the electricity of his touch, and you suppressed a shiver as you opened your eyes.

“Do it,” you cement your fates, “coward.”

And just like that, in a movement so euphoric, Kirishima’s mouth crashed against yours.

His mouth was hot, dangerous against yours -- a live wire sparking with uncontrollable energy and heat as your mouths danced. Hot puffs of air were passed between your mouths, your fingers shaking with an undeniable release of tension and want. 

The kiss was sloppy, desperate, so needy with unspoken frantic determination to fuck each other until the other could no longer move. 

Kirishima’s hand removed the jacket from your arms, letting the expensive material fall onto the floor with a heavy thud. Despite the lack of warmth the clothing provided, the feeling of Kirishima’s hands rubbing against your bare arms sent your mind spiraling.

“Get on the bed,” Kirishima commands against your mouth. “Let me fuck you.”

The words were nearly embarrassingly desperate, but the tone of his voice spoke of the absolute domination he wished to assert on you. He wanted you in one exact way, and you had a feeling you knew what it was. But if he had been paying attention, Kirishima should already know that getting you to listen was not easy.

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

Kirishima pulls away instantly, his lips red and swollen as he replays your word in his head. He looks frazzled, absolutely delirious already at the simple, passion-filled makeout. As soon as his eyes clear away the fog, your grin drops, and instead, you look at him with fierce determination and defiance. 

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

Your chest feels light, your head spinning as the hands on your waist tighten, and his eyes flash dangerously. The tip of his tongue pushes past his lips before quickly disappearing again. 

“Of course, you’re a brat in bed too, such a fucking princess,” Kirishima shakes his head, but his mouth curving into a shark-like grin. 

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

The world spins faster than you can keep up, your mouth opening to shriek as Kirishima easily lifts you up, and has you lying against his lap. 

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, princess,” Kirishima begins, his large fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweats you have on and the panties you’re wearing. “My princess gets rewards for being good. If she can behave properly, she gets to be fucked with dick, her pussy gets to be fucked just the way she pleases.”

You can’t help but stifle a moan that threatens to spill out with his words and the way his hands move down the curve of your ass, exposing the naked skin to him. The waistband of both your panties and sweats stay high up your thighs, and it’s almost embarrassing to know you’re still so clothed despite what’s to come.

“And just what does the Sergeant do to bad girls?” you ask, unable to keep your tongue down, your hips rolling against his lap in undeserved friction.

Unexpectedly, abruptly, a hand comes down harshly onto your bare ass.

The contact is rough, stinging against your ass as you cry out in slight pain.

The hand not currently rubbing a warning circle into your ass twists the hair at the top of your head, lifting your head up so that your ear could near his mouth.

“Bad girls get punishments. They get what I want to give them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Holy shit,” you whimper, heat flaring between your thighs at the thought of Kirishima doing anything to you regardless of if you were good or bad. You rut your ass back against his hand, longing for a heavier touch, a plea for something more.

“What does the princess want?”

“Nothing,” you bite, and the crashing smack of another spank has you moaning loudly at the stinging pleasure-filled pain. 

“You moaning like a whore at a simple spank says otherwise,” Kirishima chuckles darkly, his fingers pinching your stinging ass as your body bucks against him. He spanks you again, again, and again. Each slap is intentful, powerful, wanting to get you to admit what you want, and you cry against your hands each time, your eyes fluttering as the pain feels good. 

“Of course, a slut like you would be getting off on this,” Kirishima seems amused, his thick finger pressing to the slit of your cunt, spreading your dripping essence against your cunt. He presses against your entrance with just the tip of his finger, and you shriek in a sound for more, your hips jerking backward to get his finger into you, to fuck you with those thick fingers to do something about the growing desperate heat. 

“Kirishima!” you scream, your body sweating and twisting on his lap, desperate to find some way to get him to finger fuck you. 

“Ah, there we go,” he sighs in delight as his fingers swirl at your entrance, increasing the teasing and making your mind spin. “Tell me what you want, brat.”

“You!” you wail, two of his fingers carting between your wet, sloppy heated lips. They graze your clit, stimulating you further as you can do nothing but instinctively jerk against his hold, trying to get him to give you the needed pleasure to build up to an orgasm. “I want you to fuck me so good! Please, Sergeant, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”

“But you haven’t proven to be a good princess,” Kirishima tuts, his hands disappearing from your pussy despite your crying pleas. His hand grabs your ass, though, massaging the abused skin, grasping it tightly.

You moan, embarrassed at the sensation of his massive hand easily cupping your ass cheek, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his pants as you shake your head.

“Are you going to prove that you’re good?” he asks you, his tone like that of a parent chastising a child. “Gonna prove to me that you can be good?”

You shake pathetically against his legs, but you can’t keep yourself from shaking your head. You can’t prove to him that you would be.

“I can’t!” you whimper loudly, your body twisting on his lap to look up at him, your eyes filled with tears and pleading need. Kirishima looked down at you with lust filled eyes and an undeniable need to be followed.

“You can’t?” he repeats, his head tilting, eyes narrowing, and his fingers dug into your ass. “Or you won’t?”

You tremble on top of him, unable to answer because you weren’t ready to hand over the reins just yet. You didn’t want to submit so fast, you wanted to make his own head dizzy with need but the stubbornness to continue punishing you the way he was promising.

“I won’t,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the way he finally drops your head.

You gasp loudly as you find him shoving you off his lap, and with your panties and sweats sitting so awkwardly high on your legs, you find yourself tumbling off his lap and onto the floor.

“Guess if you don’t want to behave, I’ll treat you like some fucking pussy pocket and dispose of you once I’m done,” Kirishima easily breathes, and you look up at the now standing man as he tears his shirt off.

Your mouth waters, your cunt throbbing at the sight of the rippling muscles and dark lines of his tattoos on his upper body. You watch fascinated, like one does to a masterpiece, as he undresses until he’s in nothing but his socks. And at the sight of his dick, you can feel at once all the blood in your flushed face drop directly into your throbbing cunt.

He was fucking enormous, his girth barely fitting into his hand, and the angry red head spilled its precum against his abs. A black happy trail connecting Kirishima’s abs to his vein throbbing cock.

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

Kirishima doesn’t ask any questions as he watches your awkwardly dressed state of a body on the floor. His head is tilted upwards, a small pleased smile on his face as he looks down on you, his hand slowly, leisurely fisting his cock as you can do nothing but stare.

You make some insane noise at the back of your throat at this sight, your thighs trembling with need, and you're pushing off your side, your ass burning, and your balance off as you open your mouth, offering all you could to him.

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

He’s much too tall for you to suck him off on your knees, so he sits back down onto the bed, letting you scamper between his legs, mouth open wide like some needy pet.

“Such a good little slut,” Kirishima sighs, sinking his cock into your wet, hot mouth. “Such a fucking cockwhore, all it took was a single glance for you to lose your will.”

You whine against his dick, your jaw tight with the stretch, your tongue lapping so desperately around the cock that was no more than halfway in yet couldn’t go in any further.

“Suck me right, and I’ll reward you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours,” Kirishima grunts, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he ruts his hips up into your mouth, shoving his cock even further into your mouth. “And don’t you dare look away from me while you suck me off.”

It feels like fire.

His cock driving down your throat hurts, the taste of his salty pre-cum slathering all over your tongue and dripping out of your mouth with the saliva you can’t control. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you continue to bob your head, continue to fuck him with your throat as animalistic, praiseworthy noises begin spilling from Kirishima’s mouth.

You whimper at the sight of his head dipping back, and you nearly whine when he shoves the fingers he had gathered your juices on into his mouth. He moans at the contact and with his pleasure with your actions so obvious as you choke against his girth. That was hot, holy fuck, you wanted him to fuck you, please fuck you. 

Your eyes close as he begins to fuck faster into your mouth, his delight in hearing you choke around him his driving force. Tears start pouring from your eyes despite your best efforts, your throat and inner thighs burning with lust and need as Kirishima groans, his cock twitching deep in your throat.

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

You gag harshly as your cheeks sting with his heavy slap, your teeth grazing underneath his cock, right against a thick, twisting vein.

“Did I tell you to close your eyes?” Kirishima practically growls, his hands grasping the back of your neck, the other one slapping you across the face yet again. “No. I said… fuck… I said, keep your eyes on me!”

Tears weep down your face, your eyes struggling to keep focus on him as he continued to fuck deep and intensely into your mouth, shoving himself further into you until you could feel his thighs grazing your chin. Oxygen wasn’t flowing anymore; your gags and chokes the only time the burning element could manage to flow through you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care. He seems to delight in the way you are, despite it all, are moaning and looking at him in a pleading way for more.

More, you plead.

And he delivers. 

Kirishima pulls his still hard, not yet cummed, dick out of your mouth and stands. 

You splutter with the sudden intake of oxygen to your lungs, burning you from the inside out as you splutter on the ground.

“W-What’s going on?” you hoarsely stammer, your jaw and throat aching from its prolonged abuse. “E-Ei?”

However, Kirishima seems dead set on getting you naked, and you squeal in flustered excitement as he rips the shirt off of you and his mouth pressing against yours again. His mouth crashes against yours, and you moan into his mouth immediately.

His tongue curls into your mouth and your tongues press and rub against each other. Each passing second growing more desperate, needier, more intense as your clothes are ripped one by one off your body.

“Holy fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kirishima nearly whines, his mouth trailing down your neck, biting and sucking against every centimeter of skin he passed. “Wanted to fuck you against the wall, in my bed, and now I get to do that.”

“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you beg, your voice bordering a wail as your arms wrap around his neck, letting him lift you up off the floor. Despite you being so much smaller than him that when he held you to him, your cunt wasn’t pressed to his angry leaking cock, you continued to desperately roll your hips against his abs, the friction welcomed and easing the building pressure. It was an action conveying just what you wanted. “I need you in me, Sergeant!”

“Just cuz… holy fuck,” Kirishima breathes ragged, his body twisting around, and you cried when the cold sheets pressed into your back. “Imma fuck you, Imma… god, just fucking watch.”

Your head thrashed back onto the pillow as Kirishima’s teeth sunk into your collarbone, then captured your sensitive nipples, his fingers dancing against your clit and teasing your center. 

“Now!” you cry, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Put it in!”

This time, Kirishima didn’t need to be told twice.

His larger body was suddenly pressed entirely against yours, dwarfing you immediately as your arms wrapped around his back as his cock slammed into you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your pussy stretched beyond its typical limits by his girth, his size, his power.

Your cunt throbbed around him, your face buried within his pecs as you, despite the searing pain, shove your hips up towards him. Fucking into him, sucking him further into you.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima groans, “you’re amazing.”

“Talk less, fuck me more!” you screech, your body spasming, twitching so hard from the splitting pleasure and the lava pit in your stomach, and Kirishima does that exactly.

His hips begin to meet yours in equaled power, slamming into you so that the bed creaked beneath you. He fucked you until he had to hold a hand on your hip so you could stay there, and you kept a hand on the wall to continue to push yourself down onto his cock.

You screamed with pleasure, cried for more, Kirishima’s shark-like smirk getting bolder, darker, hotter with every slam of his hips until his tattooed right arm shot down. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.

“You’re so loud, princess,” Kirishima moans, clearly liking your loud noises, “but you’re going to wake everyone in Tokyo.”

His hand around your throat is enough to have your legs trembling around his waist, your choked and muffled moans and splutters drowning out even more as he pressed a kiss onto you. He kissed you, licking your mouth, and devouring your every word and thought. Your core twisted, tightened, and burned. It throbbed and clenched with it’s impending orgasm, and your body began to tense to the heavens as his cock throbbed deep within you.

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

“Who’s going to fucking cum when I tell her to?”

“Me! Fuck, me!”

Kirishima laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist, and in one final, fleeting burst of strength, fucks into you with his own power, needs, and desire, and you can only take it. “Cum, princess,” he whispered almost sweetly against the top of your head, and it was all over. Your teeth sink into his chest as you scream, a blinding white light erupting through your vision as you cum around his cock.

Kirishima whimpers, his cock still pushing deep into your cunt, until you can feel the warm spill of his seed in your womb.

He collapses to the side of you, taking you with him so that you were resting on his sweaty chest.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima whispered after a bit, your body already warm and too lethargic to notice the star-like tone to his voice. “That was fucking… holy shit.”

“Does this mean you like me?” you half tease, half wonder.

There’s a pause, a silence, and you wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep.

But he didn’t.

“I’ve been in love with you for some time now, I think,” he admits, his hand beginning to rub small circles into your back.

You find that despite the exhaustion, warmth floods your cheeks.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to discuss a more… permanent and maybe different contract tomorrow morning, huh?”

Kirishima chuckles, and you find yourself smiling into his chest.

“I think we do.”

[hoodieofholland]

hey love. I’m obsessed with mob!tom - could you write something where mob Tom and the reader have a really big fight and Tom says something that was really mean and reader storms out and doesn’t come back until late and night and Tom is super worried :) at the beginning angst and at the end fluff.

I actually asked other writers too to write this a while ago but nobody does it and I found your account now and I’m so in love with your writing you are super talented <3

Sorry if my English is not really good- it’s not my first language

A/n: dear anon, you were reading my mind! I was actually procrastinating with a draft of some angst with mob!tom for a while, and you just motivated me to write it again hahah im obsessed with mob!tom too btw, no shame on this lol. Thanks for requesting, hope you like it!

Masterlist Request/tell me your thoughts on this

Warnings bellow the cut!

Warnings: angst, language, mention of gun.

You throw your purse over the table as you storm inside the house, walking up to your room with a stern face, straightened back and confident steps, without saying a word. Tom watched you from behind, sighing as he knew what was about to come - you were pissed.

He followed you slowly, not wanting to hurry the fight that was about to come. He knew pretty well what he has done tonight, but wasn’t planning on apologize, as he was also sure he wasn’t wrong about it.

By the time he reached the main room, you were already in the closet, taking off your jewels and putting them inside their boxes. “Baby”, he called you, but you didn’t raise your head.

Your gesturing was obviously stating your humor - or the lack of it. You wasn’t being so careful with the expensive belongings, as you always made sure to be.

“Baby”, Tom tried again, sighing this time, “Can you at least tell me what the hell did I do?”

That was the breakpoint. You lifted your head to look at him sternly. “Seriously? You gonna really act like you don’t know?”

He snorts, running a hand through his brown curls. “I mean, I know. I just don’t get why you’re so upset about it”

You laugh humorless. “I’m upset ‘cause you fucking treated me like a doll, Tom. That’s why I’m upset about it!”

“What?”, he snapped, narrowing his eyes. “What the fuck, I just told that asshole of a waiter to get his shit together instead of eye-fucking you. For God’s sake, what’s wrong with that?”

"Well, maybe the fact that you made a scene in front of the manager because you were jealous?" You shout, shaking your hands. "Should I tell you the obvious fact that this man is probably fired now because of your speech?".

Tom was growing mad. He couldn't believe you were defending the guy who was flirting with you the whole dinner.

Turns out that what was supposed to be a calm and relaxing dinner quickly became something distasteful, as Tom took notice of the waiter that was serving your table that night looking at you with a dumb smile on his face the entire time. He could even see the guy talking to some other workers about you, staring at you like you were some kind of meal. So Tom did what he thought was right - he made it very clear that you were his girl and a employee shouldn't be looking at you like that.

"I don't give a single fuck if he's unemployed right now. He should take this as a lesson to not disrespect you or any other woman in his workplace", Tom said, undoing his tie and throwing it in anywhere in the wardrobe. He was tired and pissed with the whole situation - and, more important, with you, for making a big deal out of it.

"Disrespect me, or disrespect you, Tom?", you snap, eyes wide with anger. "Cause it didn't look like you were worried about me. Cause all I wanted was a peaceful dinner with my boyfriend, who actually never seems to be available to me, and you made it pretty hard for me to enjoy, just because you were mad for a guy possibly be flirting with your girl! Like I fucking belonged to you!"

"Oh, fuck off, y/n", he hissed, walking past the closet's door and going straight to the bathroom. "It's obvious I'd be pissed for the it too. You're my girl, and I don't think it's nice if other man look at you like that! Don't act like you've never done it too".

You followed him, yelling next. "Shit, you're unbelievable! What is it? Nobody can look at Tom Holland's girl? Because you're the great motherfucker mobster and I'm your fucking prize?"

Tom turned his body to glance at you again. He pointed a finger at you, eyes serious and penetrating. "I've never said it. That's not how I see this".

"Oh, really? So you care to explain me why do you keep doing that? We barely spend time together now, Tom, and when we finally get to have a nice night out, you make sure to state that I'm yours and that no other man can lay an eye on me", you sniff, unable to keep the cracked voice from coming out and show how upset you felt about it. "I don't like to feel that I'm waiting for you like a goddamn doll, Tom".

"Well, darling, I'm sorry if I'm not being enough, but that's how real world works", his voice is cold and he is avoiding looking into your eyes, his jaw clenched in a way that make it clear that he's not satisfied with the conversation's rumor. "I made it pretty clear when we first met that my job doesn't allow me to be here the entire time, so what the fuck do you expect me to do? Or do you think that this nice house and the maids, and all the fucking jewels I give you come for free? Tell me, y/n, what the hell you want from me?"

You watch his usually soft features whenever you were around turning into the one he used with his men. The veins in his neck visible, his pupils huge and thin lips trembling with anger. Tom has never spoken to you that way, and you could feel the pressure on your chest with the pain from his harsh words.

A couple of tears rolled down your cheeks and you were quick to rub them away with the back of your hand. Noticing the way you pressed your lips together lightly, Tom's face softened and he realized his posture and tone.

"I don't- I don't know, Tom", you say in a low, croaky voice. "Think I just wanted us to be a couple. I'm truly sorry if that's too much to ask you for".

His heart pained at your words and he took a few steps in your direction. "Darling, no, that's not what I-"

You stopped him, putting your arm in front of you and shaking your head. "No, that's exactly what you wanted to say. I don't know what I had in mind when we started dating, nor what I was thinking when I agreed to move in here, but I don't want to be between you and your job anymore".

He stared at you, unaware of what you were about to do, thinking about what to say. He didn't want to fight with you like that, but didn't want you to think that what you've said is true neither.

You walked past him and straight to the closet again, picking up your suitcase and grabbing a few clothes from the wardrobe. Tom watched you for a few seconds, startled, and then started to panic.

"What are you doing?"

You ignored him, trying to think what you'd possibly need to get to stay out tonight. You could get the rest of your things later, but right now you just wanted to get out of that house.

"Y/n, love, what are you doing?" He asked in desperation, reaching your arm and trying to pull you away from the wardrobe, but you just shrugged his touch off.

"What does it look like? I'm leaving, Tom! If you can't conciliate our relationship with your job, then I guess I have nothing to do here anymore". You say through gritted teeth.

"What?!" He breathed out. "Darling, you can't leave like-"

"Don't you fucking call me darling!"

Tom stops and stares at you, blinking. His mouth is agape, trying to get his thoughts together. You didn't stop packing, and when he saw the determination in your actions, he simply couldn't contain the anger growing on his chest.

"Know what? Go. Leave me! Get the fuck out of this house. I don't fucking care!" He yelled, and you jumped slightly at the sound of his guttural voice.

You wiped some of new tears and nodded once, not minding to get anything else as you closed your suitcase and walked out of the room, hands shaking from the emotions you were so hardly trying to refrain.

But before you could step out of the room and go down on the stairs, you turn around to see he stagnant at the same spot. "Fuck you, Tom. You can take all this damn jewelry. Take this, the clothes, and everything else you bought me. If I can't have you, these don't mean a single thing to me. I'm not a fucking doll, Tom".

You left, and he couldn't move for minutes straight.

*********

The night passed by and Tom didn't hear from you. He checked his phone more times than he liked to admit, but you didn't answer any calls, any messages. Nothing. He didn't even realize what time he fell asleep on the couch, waiting for some sort of sign from you, but in the morning, when he rolled out of it, his heart pounded in his chest at the realization that you were nowhere to be seen.

He asked Harrison, his best mate and the second person you most chatted with in the house, if he has seen you, but he didn't have anything. So Tom waited, trying to focus on his work for the morning and the evening, as he thought that maybe you just wanted some time to think clearer. He regretted saying those things to you already, knowing that none of that was true. Obviously he did care if you were there in the morning. He wanted to wake up with you by his side like every other day. It was all that mattered for him after all. Not the money, not the jewel, not the house. It all didn't make sense when you weren't there.

And he felt so sick thinking that you truly believed he was seeing you as a prize, as a doll that would stand beautifully waiting for him at the end of the day. He knew he should have persisted and said that you weren't right, that he loved you so much that he could take a bullet for you, right on his chest. He'd do anything for you, but didn't seem to know how to put that in words when it comes to a fight.

"Fuck!" He shouted when alone in his office, hands collapsing on the desk. It was past seven at night and he hadn't heard from you. A whole fucking day. He asked Harrison to send the men to look for you. He wouldn't force you coming back home, but he needed to be sure you were alright.

All the bad thoughts he could have were now successfully running through his mind and driving him nuts. He thought that maybe some rival mobster could have laid eyes on you, all by yourself, and tried to do something. You could be in serious danger right now, and Tom wouldn't forgive himself if that was the case.

He took a drink. He needed to clear his mind as time was passing by and his men didn't have any information about you. Your phone would be filled with unanswered calls from him, even voicemail telling you he was sorry and would do anything if you only called him back to say you were doing fine.

"Please, love, if you're listening to it... fuck, I'm so fucking sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I'm a dumbass, and you don't have to forgive me, but, please, just let me know you're fine and I'll give you your time. Just- please. I need to hear from you, y/n", he recorded, a drink on his hand and the other holding his phone firmly.

When it was 9pm, he decided he was going out to look for you himself. He just couldn't sit there waiting for a call or for his men do to something - he needed to take that pressure of his chest and no one was helping.

He took his gun, called Harrison and a few more man before heading to the living room.

"Alright, we have a few more places left" Tom started his instructions, while shoving his gun at the back of his trousers. "Harrison and I are going to her family's house. You two check in her old friend's place. Doesn't matter how far it is, I don't want you two to come back until you've looked through that fucking town-"

"Tom", Harrison cut him off, coughing a bit to get his attention. He was about to snap at him, when he followed his gaze.

And there you were, standing at the door frame in the living room, a confused expression on your face as you tried to understand what was going on in the middle of the room. Usually, Tom never had meetings in any other area than the conference room.

"What's going on?", you asked bluntly, and Tom releases a deep and relieved breath, so audible that you couldn't not take notice of.

"God, you're here", he breathed out, walking towards you in large steps. You were still mad, but also so confused with his reaction that you couldn't stop him from holding you tightly in his arms. "Fuck, darling, where were you?".

Besides his words being a bit harsh, his voice was soft and caring, worried if anything. He didn't let go of you first, kissing the top of your head for a long minute.

Harrison smiled a little seeing the both of you and dismissed the men out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

"Sorry, you don't need to explain", Tom shook his head and pulled away to look at you. His eyes were bloodshot and tired, a dark circle around it. He brushed your cheeks with the pad of his thumb and furrowed. "Are you okay, though?"

"Yeah, I am- but what was going on?", you insisted.

Tom cupped your face on his hands, still not believing that you were there again. "I was so fucking worried. I thought that something was off, you didn't answer any of my messages or calls... I was heading to a drive with my men to look for you".

You blink a few times, startled that Tom was so concerned all this time.

"I was in a hotel room, actually", you chew in your lower lip, kind of ashamed that you put him through such a concern. "Needed to be alone for a time, so I turned my phone off".

Tom pressed his forehead against yours. "It doesn't matter anymore, darling. It was all my fault", his voice was croaky and you felt your heart pounding inside your chest. "I should never have said those things to you-"

"It's alright, Tom-"

"No, it's not", he shook his head. "Cause it was all lies. I do fucking care if you leave me. I wouldn't stand being away from you, my love. You're everything, everything. And you're right, I don't spend much time with you, and it eats me alive, cause that's what makes me happy, being around you. All I ever wanted was to make you happy, sweetheart. I'm so fucking sorry if I haven't shown you how much you mean to me..."

"Shhh, Tom", you closed your eyes, hugging him by the neck and bringing him closer. "It's okay, I know it. I wasn't thinking straight too, I know you don't treat me like that. I was just too pissed, and yeah, I'd like to spend more time together, but it's alright that you don't-"

He cut you by a sweet kiss pressed on your lips, "Nothing is more important for me than you. I was too mad with that thing in the restaurant to say it right away, but I'll try harder. I'm gonna be here with you, no matter what. Work can wait".

You sigh and pull him closer, breathing his comforting scent.

"My lovely girl", Tom sighs and smile a bit. "You scared the hell out of me".

"You deserved it, idiot" you said and he laughed quietly.

"I love you, darling", he stroked your back, hiding his face in the crock of your neck. "Always".

"Love you too, Tommy".

You spent the rest of the night together, having a nice and cozy dinner at home. Tom never smiled wider than that night, and the following others were fulfilled with his promise - there was always time in your day to spend alone with your boyfriend.

*******

Taglist:

@dreamy-clousds

@pinkrockstar19

@onyourgoddamnleft

@spideyspeaches

@miraclesoflove

@hollands-taste

@zspideyy

[sophie-i-guess13]

Hound Dog

|Words: 1872|

|Characters: Sylvia, Tim Shepard, Dallas Winston|

|Genre: Teenage Dumbasses, Fluff near the end|

|TW: Mention of a gun, animal neglect, implied underage drinking|

Tag! @mjmacchio1991 @apricot-colored-feathers @pepsi-and-cigarettes @the-kneesbees @ralphmaccchiato 

I had a few ideas of what Sylvia wanted from me when she came through the door of her cousin’s bar. Like a drink or two, maybe a dance. Maybe she wanted to spend the night. But, in her typical fashion, she just had to prove me wrong. That’s the only reason I’d be sitting in the passenger seat of Tim Shepard’s t-bird and squinting through the rain-splattered windshield.

We move along down the road, the only sound being that of the rain beating against the car and Elvis’s voice coming from the radio. Tim’s headlights reflect off the streetlamps we pass, even the occasional broken bottle tossed in the middle of the road. Each time the light shot back at us, it got caught in his eyes and hair, the vibrant contrast of black wild curls and clear blue eyes, all tied together with a jagged pink scar running from temple to chin. “Likin’ the new tires?” he asks, lips still twisted into a scowl so it would look like an insult to anyone else.

It still hurts to breathe too deep, but that’s the least of my worries. That wasn’t the first time Tim had taken a cheap shot at my ribs, but I knew it wouldn’t be the last, either. “You should be thankin’ me, Shepard,” I say casually, “told ya’ you were due for an upgrade.”

“Just admit you slashed my tires ‘cause you were jealous,” he mutters without even a hint of sincerity. It took me a while to figure out when he was bluffing- the last time I fucked up we both ended up in the Curtises kitchen and bandaging our wounds. My eyes dart up to his rearview mirror before I respond. For a girl who always seemed so cold and cool, Syl’s pressed against his window like a little kid at a toy store. “An’ what do I have to be jealous for, your fat head?”

“How ‘bout the fact that I have a car, and you’re a fuckin’ freeloader-”

“Pull over!” Sylvia cries out suddenly, already pulling at the handle of her door, “That’s the house!”

The street is still dark but through the occasional crack of lightning, I can make sense of where we are. “Your house is three up, doll,” I mumble. It must have been soft enough for her to have not heard me because she pushes the door open and trudges through the rain. “She ain’t headed home,” Tim tells me as he turns the key and lets the engine die. “Sylvia’s been obsessed with the dog in that yard ever since I met her.”

She’s teetering back and forth in her high-heels as she leans over the metal fence, running her hands over the slim, grey body beneath her. I can’t make out her words- since they’re all slurred together with cold and liquor, but they don’t hold the same edge I’m always used to hearing from her. “So you drove her to visit a mutt?”

There’s a second icy gust of wind when Tim forces his door open and pops the collar of his leather jacket. “Get your head outta your ass, Winston,” he groans, just loud enough to be heard over the clap of thunder, “we’re helping her take him!” Before I can get any more clarification, Syl’s voice cuts through the rain once more. “Hurry up,” she calls, “the thunder’s freaking him out! You’ve got the thing?”

I don’t know what thing she’s talking about. I don’t know why I’m spending my night out in the rain while Sylvia crouches in the mud, trying to soothe some mangy old dog that’s probably older than we are, but here I am. The rain beats down on us, even going as far as to wind down my back and under my t-shirt like a serpent. “You got a plan or anything?” I shout to Tim when he slams the trunk closed and heads towards the rickety old house, bolt cutters hanging in one hand. “Not really. Just cut the chain and get ‘im to Buck’s, I guess.”

In all honesty, stealing a dog doesn’t sound like the worst way I could spend my time. But, there is no way in hell that thing is coming anywhere near my bedroom. The street stays dark for the most part, except for the occasional shot of lightning through the clouds like the cracks through Buck’s drywall. The thunder’s got the dog on edge as he paces back and forth against the fence, sometimes even raking his paws against it. He doesn’t bark though, which means his owners inside have no reason to look outside when Tim and Sylvia hop over the chain link.

Blue jeans turn muddy and hair is plastered flat against their foreheads. Watching Sylvia drop to the ground and not caring for the grime caked under her nails as she pulls at the thick leather collar pushed against his throat. “You’ve gotta hold ‘im still,” Tim orders rough grit teeth and a white-knuckle grip on his bold cutters, “I can’t cut the chain if he keeps moving!”

Years ago, he might have been a good looking dog. Now, with ribs sticking out far enough to count, white and cloudy eyes, and a torn ear, he was everything but pretty. His thin fur was grey and matted, yet somehow still thin enough to see the bald patches on his chest and stomach. If it were any lighter, we probably could’ve seen the ticks and fleas crawling all over him, too. “I’m trying,” Syl huffs in response, “it ain’t my fault the thunder’s freaking him out! Dal, get down here an’ hold him!”

He whimpers and cries, straining against Sylvia’s arms as she tries to hold him still and Tim grabs hold of the rusted chain in one hand. “Syl didn’t invite you to just stand there,” Tim spits, rainwater and a few choice words falling from his lips when the chain slips from his hands and the dog jerks back further into Sylvia’s arms. In all honesty, she didn’t invite me at all. She walked into the bar, dark lips twisted into a smile and flipped some bleached hair over her shoulder.

That’s all it took before I was following her out into the night and the passenger side of Tim’s t-bird like a- well, like a dog.

“Shut up an’ give the chain.” I grumble, narrowly avoiding the dog’s tail when he whimpers again. The metal is cold and slick with rain, but still rough with years worth of rust. It pushes into my palms, nearly deep enough to slice the skin while Tim runs his fingers back and forth searching for the weakest link. “I keep tellin’ you, Syl, you need to find a guy who’s willin’ to steal a dog. Not the kinda guy you’ve got to lie to-”

“Just cut the chain, Tim-”

The metal goes slack before my hands drop to my sides. “Makin’ a move on my girl, Shepard?” I’ve always had a temper. It’s gotten me in trouble before, and that’s all it was getting us in now. Too many things happen at once. Thunder rolls overhead, Sylvia groans, and Tim laughs. Lightening cuts across the sky, like a knife slashing through fabric. “Shut up, Dal,” Tim snarls, “I wouldn’t get with Syl if she was the last chick this side of the equator.”

I see her lips move, even see the initial shock cross her dark eyes, but no sound comes out. All I hear is the incessant ringing in my ears and the smell of gun powder. I can see it now, the steel chain resting at my feet, cut short to a jagged end, illuminated by the hazy yellow glow of a porch light. Tim already has a hand on Sylvia’s arm, hauling her to her feet and dragging her in the direction of the road.

I follow in a blind panic, adrenaline burning under my skin just as it had all those nights before I showed up in Tulsa. At least back in New York people wouldn’t justify your murder saying you were on their property. I can hear the man of the house hollering after us, he’s got a deep voice, but the words all slur together. Exactly how you’d expect some asshole who leaves his dog out in the rain to sound.

That fucking dog.

I never should have looked back, but I did, anyway. I was supposed to gauge how far away he was, maybe if he planned on re-loading and taking another shot at the three kids running out of his yard, but I see the dog instead. His belly is against the soaking grass, tail and ears gone limp. In an instant, I freeze. The man lumbers down his stairs, shotgun hanging over his thick shoulder.

He growls another insult my way, fist waving in the air as he talks. The dog tries to sink lower into the mud as if it would be able to swallow him whole. Behind me, an engine roars back to life and tires squeal on wet cement. I should’ve gotten in the car. We should’ve counted our losses and realized that we’re greasers, not heroes.

But that motherfucker never should’ve kicked his dog.

“Thanks for this,” Sylvia hums in the early hours of the morning with her head on my chest and my arm wrapped around her shoulder. It hurts to breathe and every inch of my body aches, but all of that seems worth it now. She’s still trembling, despite being wrapped under all the blankets I could find in my room and Buck’s sweatshirt from last year’s rodeo season. We’re all freezing, but that meant Buck was willing to share his moonshine. It burned on the way down, but at least I could feel my fingertips again as they traced her shoulder.

“God, can y’all knock this shit off? You’re making me sick.”

Tim’s standing at the foot of the bed, greasy black curls still pressed to his forehead and one bloody fist wrapped in an old t-shirt. “Nah, this is what you get for makin’ me run in the rain with a dog and batshit old man chasing me,” I spit back. Sylvia smiles against my chest before sitting up and pushing her hair back from her face. “And for implying you’d have a shot with me, you arrogant prick.”

He leaves not long after that, drenched in rainwater and defeat. No sooner had Tim Shepard closed the door and wandered back down the hall, had the dog- Bruce, wiggled out from under my bed and stared at us.

“Hey, Dally-”

“He isn’t sleeping on my bed, babe.”

“C’mon, Dal, it’s just for one night, babe.”

I’m a greaser. The kind of guy known for getting into drunken fights in bars and empty parking lots. I steal, I lie, I cheat. I’m not a good person, nor have I ever claimed to be one. Hell, I fight guys twice my age and weigh more than two of me, and win.

But sometimes, when a hood is left to face his girlfriend and her dog, you just have to accept defeat and move over.

[untaemedqueen]

The Lions Den

Mafia!Jiminx Wife!Reader

Genre: Mafia!AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Chapter 18.

Warnings: Smut, Blood, Guns, Knives, Excessive Cursing, Excessive Alcohol Intake, Smoking (Cigarettes and Cigars), Mental Health Issues

Warnings In This Chapter: Some Good Ol’ Angst, Angry!Jimin, Jealous!Jimin, Fluff, Blood, Children’s Body Parts

A/N: Guys, ILY. Shout out to my forever squad @ppersonna​, @xjoonchildx​, @ladyartemesia​.

TagList- @ayyyocee​, @mysugabear03, @wisebtsgot7prune​, @imaforeigner​, @yeonkiminnie​, @stories1907​, @ppersonna​, @brilee64​, @gooplibrary​, @vivpurple7​, @xjoonchildx​, @brightwingr5​, @yaniposts22​, @rjsmochii​, @taeslittletiger​, @pjmcth​, @bts-chub​, @kpoppingthempills, @kim-ji-hyeons-world​, @jikooksgirl19​, @yoong-i​, @ruinsofangels​, @absolutefantrash​, @chiminies-noona​, @eclectically-esoteric​, @simplybree​, @outrofenty​, @yxnxxli​​

4 weeks before Casino Night

It's like a terminal disease, eating it's way through your home. It's taking members of your family in the night. The heartache, the silence, the suffering. 

It's like when you have the flu. All of your senses have become dim. Your ears feel muffled, you can't smell properly, can't even taste. 

And, sickness always gets worse before it gets better. 

You've been distant from your husband lately. Or rather, he's been distant from you.

He's been working to keep the pain and misery away but you can understand him. He finds the calming sense of relief only when he lays his head on the pillow beside you before sleeping.

Entering the kitchen, his eyes drift over to you before kissing your temple as you lean against the white countertop.

His eyes fall to your protruding stomach before ripping them away and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning." You whisper as your hands cup the black ceramic of your teacup.

"Morning, Kitten." He murmurs before taking a sip of coffee and looking out the window above the sink to the luscious backyard.

He has always had this never ending guilt when it comes to you and his family. There's always something to blame him for but now, he knows how close he is to ending it-- he can't feel the guilt, only the sense of waiting.

"The baby moved this morning."  You notify him as he stares off into the distance.

He's been keeping distant with your children too. Like he doesn't want to relish in something that could disappear within moments.

"Oh good. She's healthy then." He says before clearing his throat.

You hum in agreement as you stand up tall. Your hand lands on your stomach and you catch him looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

"She's moving now if you want to feel it." You tell him as you set your cup down on the counter.

His fingers grip tighter at his own cup before clearing his throat. 

"Nah. I gotta….Gotta get ready for today's job. I'm going to be busy all day." He whispers, his voice sounding strained and displaced.

His words don't hurt you, they make you feel sorry for him. Truly. To not even be able to relish in a smidgeon of happiness is heart wrenching.

But, you can understand. You avoided him for so long when you felt like you were letting him down just a few months ago. And, you know that no matter what happens he'll always find his way back to you. Because, you're both tethered to each other like fate.

"Alright. Well we love you." You tell him before walking around the large marble island and kissing his cheek. His eyes flutter shut as your distended belly presses to his side.

"I love you, too Kitten. Always. You know that." His hand leaves the cup for a fraction of a second before gripping it again.

"I'm going to stay home today, the baby is making me feel queasy." You tell him before patting his bicep.

"Do you...Do you want me to get you anything?" 

You turn to him as you walk backwards. 

"Just come home safe. That's all I want." You reply before heading towards the staircase.

You pace the home office as Namjoon sits in the big armchair behind the desk.

"I mean there has to be something to it, right? Some sort of clue." You say aloud as you perch your hand below your chin.

He kicks his feet up on the desk as he stares at the stock card. You both have been obsessed with this letter for a while now. Only you, Namjoon and Yoongi have discussed this in private. They were the two that were around you the most frequently. 

"I don't know, there should be something but I've cross referenced both of the Im twins handwriting and it's not theirs. I had it professionally checked." Namjoon says as he takes off his glasses. He dabs the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand before setting down the threat note on the desk.

You grunt in frustration, your hand faltering to your stomach as your daughter flutters about inside you.

"There just has to be something. It's too...neat. Too weird, y'know?" You ask the now blue haired man as he hums in agreement.

"Hey, Y/N. We're gonna get these guys, alright? We will." Your friend promises as he puts his glasses back on.

You sit down in the large armchair as your eyes flit from his to the note on the desk.

"Something is off. Just not right and I can't put my finger on it. I know this card means something. I feel like I'm having deja vu. Like I've seen it before." 

This peaks Joon's interest and he leans his elbows on the table as he presses his body to the desk.

"You've never told me that before." He says as he interlocks his fingers.

"Yeah. Well I've been having a lot of time to think since I don't spend time with my husband anymore." You snap at him, your eyes narrowing at the handsome man.

He clears his throat before nodding. 

"Yeah. I get it. I'm sorry." He whispers as you look at the stained glass window.

You can see the rain drops as they lazily roll down the colored glass. You run your tongue over your teeth before putting your hand to your forehead. 

There's silence for a while. A long while in fact. But, it's peaceful.

Namjoon clears his throat again before shifting in the large chair.

"Does he...talk about what's bothering him? Doesn't he open up?" You snort at his question before rolling your head to him, your hair falling over your shoulder as you sigh.

"Not since he opened up the Bullet Box." You reply, referencing to the gun compartment inside your room.

He sighs loudly before putting his hands on his face. 

"We're like fucking drowning over here. We're so in the dark and now's the time where he has no plan?" You shrug and shake your head in confusion before looking back at the window.

At least you could confide in Joon, he's a good listener and impartial to everyone's feelings.

"We can't have a plan if we don't know what's going on. And, he thinks Casino Night is going to magically save him." You reply finally.

He lets out a disbelieving chuckle as he puts his hands on the sides of his head.

"Yeah well we need a real plan. Having all the lions in here is nice but we need a legitimate, unfailing plan." You nod as a raindrop slides down the sparrow's face on the stained glass window.

"Yes. We do." You reply as you close your eyes.

Your house was so stuffed full of people, it was almost becoming claustrophobic. The amount of times you’ve had to tell lions to put things down or not touch something was really getting under your skin. 

They’re smart and fast when it comes to their jobs but dumb and slow on picking up how to be people. You’re beginning to think anyone with a bloodthirsty drive just gets a red hot poker to the back of their neck without any initiation or interview. 

“Good evening Madam.” You hear from the kitchen as you sit on the couch in the sitting room. 

You look up as Sanghoon enters the room. 

There was just something about this guy that you adored. He kind of reminds you of Minseok in a way. He’s young, about eighteen or nineteen and has a smile that just lights up the room. He could have been an idol or something glamorous like that with his handsome features but he started working for you and your husband about two years ago. 

“Hoonie.” You say happily as you close the book you’ve been reading. 

Don’t get it twisted, you miss your kids around but some silence is nice too.

“I’d offer you some but you can’t.” He says as he holds up his beer with a smirk. 

You pat the spot beside you on the couch as you rest your arm atop the lip. Folding your arm at the elbow, you press your palm to your temple as he walks over.

His strides are confident and calculated and it makes you smirk. When he first came to you guys he had a lot to learn. He was just a pickpocket on the streets of Seoul then. He had no family, no money or assets. And, now he walks around in Versace with the confidence of a thousand CEOs. 

“Must be nice to not have idiots around touching all your shit, huh?” He asks with a chuckle as he sits down beside you. 

You tuck your legs beneath you as you turn your body to him. You give a laugh at his comment before nodding as your eyes drift around the paintings that line the walls.

“Yeah, you’re right. It is. If I see another moron break an expensive vase I’ll shoot them myself.” You jeer making him laugh.

“You just let me know who it is, Vixen. I’ll take care of them. You shouldn’t overwork yourself in your state.” He says before taking a sip of his beer.

You raise your eyebrows at him before laughing. 

“Oh really now, and who is it that taught you how to shoot when she was nine months pregnant with her son?” You ask, putting your hand over your heart daintily. 

He holds his hands up with a smile before tilting his head.

“You’re right. You’re right. My bad. You can take care of ‘em on your own. I’m just saying...you shouldn’t have to.” He whispers. You hum to him as he leans in closer to you before putting his temple on the couch.

“You’ve been like an older sister to me, noona. Thanks. It means a lot.” He says sincerely as his fingertip circles rings around the beer bottle opening. 

You snort gently before ruffling his hair. The front door opens and you turn your head to the noise. Your husband steps inside with a grocery bag and his eyes narrow at Sanghoon on the couch beside you.

“Hi, baby.” You say with a smile. He purses his lips before drawing his gun and setting the bag down on the table beside the door.

“Hi, wife. What are you doing up so late with my daughter in your belly?” He asks as he holds the gun up.

You roll your eyes, earning widening eyes from him.

“Waiting for you and talking to Hoonie.” You say confused as you tilt your head out of his gun's way.

“Hoonie. Is it?” He asks through clenched teeth as Sanghoon begins to stutter.

“You got a speech impediment, boy? Stammering and shit. You tryina fuck my pregnant wife?” Jimin asks loudly as he steps down the entryway steps. 

“N-No! No Boss! I was thanking Y/N noona for taking me in.” Your husband hums loudly as Sanghoon stands up.

“Oh, babe. Come on. He’s just a kid. Don’t be like that.” You say as he cocks the gun. 

Jimin rolls his head on his shoulder before stepping around the arm chair. The only distance between him and the younger man is the length of the coffee table at their feet. 

“I like you Sanghoon. You’re grown up well in my family but that doesn’t mean you can be overly friendly with my wife. Do you understand me?” You flinch at his words before looking up at Sanghoon with sorry eyes as he whimpers beneath the gaze of the gun. 

“Y-Yes Boss. I’m so sorry. I won’t- I’ll never-”

“Get out of my fucking sight before I shoot you.” Jimin sneers before uncocking his gun.

“Okay. Bye noona!” He says quickly before scurrying back into the kitchen and down the stairs. 

You stare at your husband as he begins to pull off his tie with angry hands. 

“That was so unnecessary. You scared him!” You admonish your husband as you stand up.

He chuckles to himself before looking down at you as he tosses his tie onto the armchair behind him.

“You were petting him like a fucking dog, Kitten. You think that’s not going to boil my blood? You want him to come back up and eat your pregnant cunt? Cause I’ll leave you two alone.” He says holding his hands up. You can hear the droll venom encased in his voice and it sends you standing on your toes in front of him in seconds.

“Don’t you fucking dare. You’ve been ignoring me for a month now, maybe more. And, now’s the time when you get macho husband on me? I don’t think so, Jimin. Quit it.” You say as you shove past him. 

His hand catches your wrist quickly before pulling you into his arms. His hands become steady on your shoulders as he bends down to your height.

“You do understand that any man in any vicinity of you is going to set me off. Don’t you? He was looking at you like he wanted to fuck you. Pregnant with my baby or not. You’re my wife. You’re mine.” He says, staring into your eyes as his thumbs rub comforting strokes on your bare skin.

“Plus you had your tits practically out in this nightgown.” He murmurs as his eyes flicker to the swell of your breasts below the blood red silk. 

“Yeah, well I’m married. You should trust me, idiot.” You say angrily. You’re taking it all in though before he goes quiet on you again for an extended period of time. You’re taking in the way he rubs your skin with his thumbs. Taking in the loving gaze he bores into your body. Everything.

You miss it. You miss him.

“I do trust you, baby. It’s any other man with a dick that I don’t trust.” He says softly and you want to mewl at his words. 

All of a sudden he’s in your space again and you’ve been dying for him to be. You’ve missed him so dearly it almost makes you weep.

“Well I’d never do anything to lose you or your trust.” You whisper as you put your hand to your stomach.

His eyes follow your hand before biting at his bottom lip nervously.

“She’s moving around? The little peanut?” He asks as he lets you go. 

That was the first time you’ve heard his adorable nickname for his new child. Hawon was little bean. Minseok was little man and now your newest daughter is little peanut. 

“Yeah, she’s moving a lot.” You tell him, in hopes that he might react in some way for you to gauge just how close he’s going to let you become again.

He nods and his fingers flex uncomfortably like he wants to touch you. 

"You can touch her if you want to. I'm sure she'd like it." Your voice sounds hopeful and you mentally chide yourself for it.

He begins to unbutton his black dress shirt as he steps away from you. 

"I brought you home some of those ginger lollipops you like for when you feel sick and some more Tums for your heart burn." He says as he walks towards the entryway.

Wishful thinking you suppose as you follow behind him. 

Laying down in bed, the second your head hits the pillow you're yawning loudly and turning onto your side. 

Planting a pillow beneath your stomach you murmur to your husband, "I love you."

He looks up from the armchair by the chess table before running his hand over his face.

"I love you, too Kitten. Good night." You hear the self admonishing in his tone and even though you close your eyes you stay awake for a while.

Just being in the same room with him for now is comfy enough.

Behind black eyelids, the bed dips on his side. 

He stares at your face, sighing gently to himself as he looks over your features. 

He runs a hand over your cheek as he lays down beside you. 

"God. You feel like a million miles away from me." He mutters as he leans in to you.

His plush lips kiss your forehead and linger for a while. 

From your cheek, his hand slowly glides down your shoulder to your stomach.

This was why you stayed awake, even if he doesn't know it. It feels good to have him here again, with you again.

"Hi my little peanut." He whispers softly as he slides down the bed. He rests his head on the pillow under your stomach as he stares at your growing bump.

"Mommy's been taking good care of you. You're getting so big." He mumbles as he presses his lips to your belly. 

You open one eye and smile as he rubs your stomach.

"I'm sorry daddy hasn't been around, it's not fair to you," You can feel the fluttering in your stomach and you know he does as well as he sighs, "I know. I'm sorry. I missed you. I'm just afraid right now. But, mommy is strong enough for the both of us." 

You close your open eye as you begin to drift off to sleep.

"You know I love you, your siblings and your mommy more than anything, don't you?" You hear him ask softly as you fall asleep.

Waking up, you pretend like you didn't witness what happened last night. Certainly because Jimin makes it seem like it never happened.

Stepping out of bed, you stretch as he puts on his suit pants.

"Morning." You mumble, wiping the bleary sleep from your eyes.

"Morning, baby." He whispers before walking past you into the walk in closet.

You roll your eyes with a sigh before taking off to the bathroom. 

You just have to let him come around. That's all there is to it.

"BOSS!" The scream is shrill and it aches your heart as you both peak out of the rooms you're in before looking at each other.

"MADAM!" You rush out of the bathroom in mere seconds. Grabbing your gun from the night table before ripping open the bedroom door.

Your husband is hot on your heels as you run down the hallway and down the stairs. 

"What?! What's wrong?!" You yell as you reach the second landing.

"Hey Y/N. Take it easy." Taehyung says cautiously from the doorway.

"What is it?!" Jimin yells loudly as you finally reach the entryway.

Some lions move out of the way for you both as Taehyung sets a white cardboard box on the ground.

Your heart picks up, "Body parts?" You ask as he steps away from the box with his hand over his heart.

Jimin puts his hand on the small of your back as you bend down to open the box.

"Just relax, Y/N." Taehyung calls cautiously, earning a raised eyebrow from your husband.

Opening the box, you let out a strangled scream as children's body parts sit inside of the box. 

"Fuck!" Jimin curses as he slams the lid out of your hands and back onto the box.

Your body falters, falling to the ground as you widen your eyes.

"Baby." Jimin whispers worriedly as he hoists you back up. Your eyes flicker to Hyunah's mansion down the road and you take off without a second though.

"KITTEN!" He yells as he starts to run behind you. 

You can feel your chest tightening, sobs ripping from your throat as you barrel down the long stretch of gravel.

Your bare feet ache and get cut up by the small black stones but you keep running, the adrenaline pulsing through your veins like a hot fire.

Jimin catches up with you easily, he stays quiet as you run. His hands carding through his black hair.

Reaching the large gates of her home, you shove them open quickly. Your bloody feet leave marks on her concrete path as you rush to the entrance.

Two Lee men stand at the front door before standing up straighter as you approach.

"Madam, Sir."

"MOVE!" You bellow at the top of your lungs. Their eyes widen as they slowly move out of your way.

You open the door quickly, your eyes scanning the large living room before looking out the large windows to her pool.

You can hear small giggles from the backyard and you sob loudly as you run past Hyunah's butler.

"Hawon! Minseok!" You scream as you rush past the kitchen to the open doors.

Hyunah turns her head to the scream as she sits up in her chaise lounge.

"Whoa. You guys okay?" Yoongi asks while burning out his cigarette as you step out onto the back patio. 

Your eyes scan the backyard quickly before a wave of relief runs through you.

"Oh my God! Come here!" You call to your children as you rush off of the stone patio to the pool.

"Mommy!" Hawon cheers and you pull her and Minseok into your arms as fast as you can. 

"Jisuk, come here baby!" You call to your nephew who smiles widely at his name passing through your lips. 

Jimin crouches down beside you wiping his face of his tears. 

"My babies." He whispers before hugging Minseok close to his body.

Jimin's index finger crooks under your chin before pulling your face towards his. He presses his lips firmly to yours as you coddle your daughter to your chest.

"Thank God you're safe." You whisper as she hugs you back.

Whose child was in that box? Who is going through a heartbreak that cannot be foretold? You pity them but you're happy your family is safe.

[justoneday-namjoonii]

jk!mafia drabble #2 | it burns, doesn’t it?

⇁ [anon request]: Im a sucker for the petty angsttt, can you write more about JK & Jiyoon 👀 like, Y/N finds out more stuff about them. 👀👀 its all up to you, anything you write is a masterpiece💜

series: 18/? - It burns, doesn’t it? pairing: Jungkook x reader author’s note: this is a mess but enjoy! thank u for requesting, I got a little creative, I think my recent Taehyung obsession is showing 👀 lol warnings: idk what this is tbh lol, major manipulator themes, slut-shaming (idk kind of not sure if it qualifies but I thought I’d warn you anyway), speculated infidelity, might be triggering to some proceed with caution

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You sit across from him at the diner booth, eyes are narrowed at the scrambled eggs greasy bacon. You don't want it.

"Eat a little," Jungkook takes a bite of his bacon, "it's not bad."

"I'm good," You shake your head, insistent on satisfying yourself with the small bowl of grapes. He glances out of the window, not wanting to upset you today, he wants to start the day off right. He offered to take you out of the house for breakfast and you were fine with it. Maybe you two can finally go back to hw things used to be, when the love was young and sweet on the tongue. It’s still sweet, but it’s grown far more complex than what was initially expected. These days, trust is something you have to remind yourself that you need in order to make this work. It’s tough, but you’re trying.

What Taehyung said keeps coming to your mind. 

He is a lot of things, but he's not a liar.

***

You were in the garage trying to take the guns apart and put them back together. Jungkook showed you about five times before he left and made sure to take the bullets out so you could practice. You were laser-focused so you paid little attention to the person entering the garage.

"The slide is loose," The gun is lifted from your grasp swiftly, "and the barrel should be placed like this," 

Taehyung promptly puts your attempt to assemble the weapon to shame. When he places the gun on the table in front of you, it's apparent how much practice he's had doing this.

"If you tried to shoot that thing, it would blow your fucking face off." 

You lower your head, shy hands picking up the firearm to dismantle it again.

"So, you convinced your daddy to let you play with his toys," He mocks, plundering through the drawers on the walls, "you're moving up, Y/n."

"Piss off," You grimace, resisting the urge to throw something at him, "it's not like that."

"It's just you and me here, everyone else went out for the night, but they should be back soon," He pulls up a chair to your little table and your stomach turns at the proximity.

"Then why are you here? Where's Hoseok?" You remain focused, taking the gun apart with calculated movements. "Why aren’t you with him..."

"I had to come back to get this," He shows you a box but not the contents inside, "didn't think you were still here, Jungkook said you were gonna go with him."

You stare down at the dismantled gun and then up at him. He recently changed his hair, it's out of his face and lighter, making his appearance less ominous than before. But you know better, his looks can't change who he is or what he's done to you. Yet, you sit across from him, choosing not to judge him for his sins. You've killed before, out of defense but you still did it. You don't deserve to be here but grace precedes you somehow—you're grateful.

"Somehow we keep getting the house to ourselves," He sighs, taking out his phone to tap on it mindlessly, "gives me time to get to know you."

"You already know enough about me," You turn the gun on the table, trying to put it back together with the last few steps, "I don't know much about you though."

"You want to?" He crooks a brow.

"Why not? Might as well," You shrug, it couldn't hurt to hear more about who he is. Maybe you'll better understand why he is the way he is, "for one, how did you get into torture?"

He sighs, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I like to think of it as hands-on interrogation. I'm fascinated by the mind, how it can be manipulated to work against itself. I think it’s interesting to break someone down, to hear what I want to hear. If I do it right, they end up forming an attachment to me- Well, not me but to the persona that I choose to subdue them with, like you."

"I'm not attached to you," You frown, "you're mistaking be me being traumatized for submission..."

"It's the same to me, I get the result I want either way."

You are about halfway through assembling the gun but Taehyung suddenly takes it again, stirring frustration in your chest. You try to grab it back but he holds it out of your reach, "Give it back!-" 

"Ah, ah," He waits for you to sit back, "I know something that you don't know about Jungkook," He says that like a child, "do you want to know what it is?"

"What're you talking about?" 

"He and Jiyoon had a little run-in when you were gone, that night he was going through it. You've probably never seen him like that but it is a sight, I'll tell you that."

* * *

He moves his foot against yours, a grin on his lips that speak pages of what he’s thinking. 

"So, I wanted to talk to you, about something," You swallow, dropping the grape back in the bowl.

"About something," He repeats in a cute little mocking tone, "about what beautiful?"

"Did you ever, I don't know...Blackout when we were separated?" You know that sounded pretty vague but he knows what you mean.

"Blackout?" He tilts his head, mentally he rakes through the countless lonely nights. "I might have had too much to drink on some nights, maybe...Why?"

"Because that's the only reason you would touch Jiyoon again...You wouldn't actually do that if you were conscious. I heard you were seen with her..."

"Why are you talking about her?" He frowns, sitting back in the booth.

"Taehyung told me you were on a downward spiral one night and you didn't come back until the next morning, were you with her?..."

* * *

"You have to admit, you're not what anyone would have thought he'd end up with. Jiyoon literally sleeps around as apart-time job, she's good at it so I don't know how you could compete with that and win."

You feel like you're decreasing the more he talks. 

"He may not act like it now, but he was crazy about her years ago. I mean, she's beautiful, she worked for his lifestyle and they had a mutual understanding. When you came around, they had broken up with each other about a year prior, he got over her fast though."

“I know that..." You knew Jiyoon and Jungkook had a lot of history, but you made peace with it and you know he loves you. 

"I ran into her after that night, she said he acted like you two weren't together anymore. He let her have it like he used to," He looks up at you, waiting for you to look him in the eye but you seem to diminish in size while avoiding eye contact, "that's what she claims."

"What do you mean?" You press your lips in a flat line.

"You know what I mean," He jeers, swiping a tongue over his bottom lip. "unless you really are that innocent, which I don’t think you are."

"He wouldn’t do that..."  

"Well, it would make sense," He stands to his feet suddenly, gun still in hand as he paces around the table, "what did you expect? You were fucking with Jimin, it’s what you get."

"It wasn't like that!” You surprise yourself when your hear your raised tone of voice, “Jimin is a friend, that’s it, I wo"

"Maybe you were mad at Jungkook, and you might have just subconsciously tried to replace him. If you would lay down with Jimin, well I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted a piece of the others, that would be interesting," He is just being mean now, he knows that would never happen, not even if you wanted it, "or even me. You seem to drop everything for men who can protect you,"

"Shut up, you’re disgusting...I don’t want any of you like that. And even if I did, that part of my life is none of your fucking business.” You hiss, fists clenched tightly. “I wouldn’t do something like that/”

“Of course you haven’t done anything too crazy, what would Jungkook think about? If he still wanted you, he would probably take you in front of anyone he wanted just to prove a point-” 

You sling your hand across his face with enough force to leave it burning. His cheek is bright red and you’re fuming. You look him dead in the eyes, "Fuck you."

“Shit, Y/n,” He genuinely laughs, setting the gun on the table so he can hold his burning cheek. "Jungkook can go off and do whatever the hell he wants but you? You don't have that luxury, he leaves you here for me to play with, and this is how you treat me? isn’t that just sad?"

"Shut up!" You pick up the gun and before you know it you're throwing it and it misses his face by a centimetre. "I'm in a twisted situation and you make it a hundred times worse. You torment me knowing Jungkook cares about me, you want me to hate him. You want him to hate me. The same crap you tell me, you probably tell to him too." 

He takes a moment to think over his response before walking up to you slowly. Instinctively, you take a step back and stand firm.

"Ask him." He dares. "Ask Jungkook if he remembers what happened that night."

"I don't have to, I trust him." You want to disappear. You don’t believe what’s coming out of his mouth or yours.

"Okay, just know that I don’t blame you for wanting any other man...You were both lonely, Jungkook had his fair share fun while you were away too." 

He’s messing with your head, that’s all he’s ever done to you. 

Right?

[fiftyshadesgrl]

Wrecked part 14

Two months later.....

All had been quiet surprisingly around the sanctuary. Negan made weekly trips to alexandria for supplies and to keep rick in line. I was always left behind like always because now my bump had become more visible and i wasnt able to hide it anymore. Negan had yet to acknowledge the baby, never feeling the baby move, never coming to the medical tent with me for a checkup.

Although i was beginning to be happy with the thought of becoming a mother, my heart ached because the man i love, the father, seemed like he didnt care. Every night i went to bed alone and slept most of the night alone. Negan would slip into bed sometime before sunrise for just a few hours then he was back up again. He always kept his back to me, never reaching for me like he used to he hadnt even wanted me sexually since that one day in the woods.

I sat down in the kitchen while everyone else was outside doing their jobs, i knew soon negan would come in from patroling and i needed to talk to him. I planned on it at least, whether he will listen or not is the thing.

A few minutes later everyone started filling the room for lunch. I watched the door as people began to come in, only negan was nowhere in sight. I sat drumming my fingers on the table and watched as simon and dwight walked in but no negan. I grunted in frustration as i stood pushing my chair back as i did. "Wheres negan?" I asked simon catching him just before he headed in the kitchen.

Simon shrugged and walked away which only frustrated me more. I turned and made my way to the doors, hoping to find him outside somewhere. As i pushed the door open it hit a solid body on the other side. Negans eyes met mine, angry at first but softened just a tad upon seeing it was me. "You should be inside eating lunch." His voice held no emotion.

"Not hungry. I was actually looking for you." I shut the door behind me.

He sighed as his eyes searched the perimeter, avoiding looking at me at all costs. "Well, you found me."

"Negan, i wanted to ask you if you would come with me after lunch to my checkup." The muscle in his jaw twitched as he seemed to have a internal battle with himself.

"I cant stop everything to go play fuckin doctor." He said between clenched teeth.

I placed my hand on his arm, he flinched at the simple touch. "Please, dont you want to see our baby?" He continued to ignore me, butt i had had enough. I shoved against him not making much of a difference in his stance but it got his attention. "What the hell is with you lately? You chased after me when i left and basically demanded i come back here. You said you missed me, but you do everything in your damn power to avoid me! Why keep me here if this is how its going to be?"

"I have more important things to do than this fuckin bullshit! I brought you here to keep you fuckin safe. What kind of a man and a leader would i fuckin be if i left a pregnant woman to fend for her fuckin self in the fuckin woods!" He yelled but he wasnt the only one who was angry.

I took a deep steadying breath, my hand raised before i could stop myself. The shock on his face probably matched mine as my palm connected with his cheek. "Im not just any woman. I am the woman carrying your child." I whispered menicingly, "dont act like youre the hero here. I wouldve done just fine on my own, you didnt save me negan. You saved yourself, your pride. Your wife defied you then left, guess that makes the big bad wolf look pretty weak doesnt it."

I more heard than saw his grip tighten around the handle of the infamous bat. I smirked and took a step toward him until our bodies were touching. His nostrils flared his teeth gritting as the anger shown on his face.

"I can see it in your eyes how bad you wanna bash my head in at this moment. Go ahead, do it." I whispered. He stood there for a minute seemingly contemplating on doing it. He placed his hand on my chest and for a brief moment i thought i may have got through to him, but the moment he nudged me backwards i knew different.

"You are testing my fuckin patience." He growled.

I smirked and moved right back in his face again. "You think im scared of you? Guess what, im the one person thats still breathing who doesnt give a shit about your empty threats."

He opened his mouth to say something when all of a sudden a gunshot rang out, not even a second later a bullet hit the side of the building right between me and negan. The next thing i knew the door flew open and me and negan both were pulled inside by simon as other saviors ran out of the building.

Negan pushed me behind one of the metal counters then kneeled beside me. "Stay the fuck down until we get the all clear." Another shot rang out as one of the men outside yelled in pain. Then more gunfire rang out from outside the sanctuary, far away and close.

Negan grabbed a walkie talkie that was on the counter, "someone tell me what the fuck is going on!"

A few moments later simon was heard on the other end. "Its rick! Son of a bitch has got some balls."

"No fuckin shit! Head to the vantage point, ill meet you there." I grabbed negans arm as he started to leave.

"Im coming with you." I shouted over the noise.

"The fuck you are!" I stood and ran to the back to get my guns, negan following close behind me. He grabbed my arm and spun me around facing him. "Youre fuckin pregnant."

"And im a damn good shot. One of the best here. You know that." I wasnt giving in. "Ill head to the tree line, they wont even see me."

His lips pressed against mine suddenly, surprising me. When we parted i felt the cold metal and heard the click of handcuffs against my wrist. The other end was attached to the metal counter top. I pulled until i felt the metal bite into my wrist. Negan was smiling as he made his way to the door. "See ya later doll."

@holylulusworld @tftumblin @an-unhealthy-obsession @jesseswartzwelder @justanotherwinchester @kingdomkey13 @nikki082489 @tcquotes @thequeenreaders @aubageddon91 @imaginesforthepeople

[katebacks]

omg kate babe, im skek. WDYM WE’ll hate you??? bruh my heart is already crying 😭😭 i just want jk and yn to be together 😭😭 plsssss tell me they do in the end 😭😭😭 omg gurl give us a sneak peek im gonna actually die bro 🥺🥺🥺♥️

God lol I will give you a sneak peak of chapter 16, because I already did it with chapter 15. Hold tight, babe.

...

“Shit." Hoseok cursed taking the pistol that was hiding in his waist while Jimin did the same. You stayed behind the two while they took cover behind the trunk. When the car approached, you didn't know if you were relieved or even more tense. It was Jungkook's car. Hoseok and Jimin looked at each other while using the back of the truck as support for their arms.

Jeon turned off the engine and got out of the vehicle. He was wearing his usual black clothes again, his hair falling forward, making his eyes even darker and harder to read. He watched the two young men wielding the weapons and did nothing more than let out a sigh and hiss 'pathetic’ under his breath as he walked towards you.

"Stop." Hoseok warned. "You’re close enough."

"As I care." He snorted and continued walking, then Jimin fired, a warning shot, hitting the ground a few feet away from Jeon, but which made you jump in fright and fear that it could had really hit him. "You missed."

“Take another step and I will hit your forehead, Jeon. I don't mind working with you to kill Shadow, but after what happened today, I can't let you get close to her. ”

Jungkook huffed "Of course you can't."

"It's okay" You told them both, and they looked at you wide-eyed, as if you had gone mad. "I'll talk to him."

"The hell you go, he can try to kill you." Hoseok countered, furious. You looked away from him to look at Jungkook who was standing still, his eyes glued to you.

"He is not going to do that." You said and got out of the back of the car, leaving your only protection behind, ignoring your theories that he really had gone mad and was hiding a knife in his sleeves, just waiting to kill you, and walked towards him, your legs shaking, threatening to fail. Hoseok didn't fight his desire to follow you and went after, the gun pointed at Jeon's head, ready to blow it up if he even thought about hurting you.

When you finally stopped in front of him, you met his eyes. They were no longer angry as they were in the morning. They were no longer cloudy and empty. They were just shining, showing your reflection, it was full of you again. Now he seem to be the man you had fallen in love with.

Jungkook scanned you for a few seconds, he knew you were nervous, he could see that you were shaking. He sighed. He never wanted to make you afraid of him, all he ever wanted was to love you, to take care of you, but he was failing miserably in those tasks.

“It's me, babe. Your Jungkook. You don't have to be afraid of me, I would never hurt you.” He whispered, the words piercing your eardrums like gunshots. You bit your lip, fighting your urge to cry at 45th time that day.

"You already hurt me." You whispered back and he shook his head, affirming and pressing his lips together. "You broke me."

"I know princess." His eyes turning red again, frustration returning to his heart, he would never forgive himself for being such an idiot and making the only important thing in his life suffer. He then raised his hand, slowly touching your face, you involuntarily closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth and caress that those hands gave you. Your tears fell again, and you burst into cry, as if you had been thrown off a cliff into a lake of sadness. You felt like your body was falling apart and you felt that you would fall to the ground and die of pain right there. But Jungkook didn't let that happen, he put one arm around your waist while the other hand stroked your hair as soon as you hit him, feeling like you were going to melt into tears and pain. "Forgive me please. I am so sorry, babe. Don’t hate me."

And it was his turn to collapse in tears, hiding his face in your neck, wetting your skin with tears that were forced out of him, against his will. He pressed your body against his, like a teenage lover afraid that his girl would leave him and that was exactly what was happening, you would leave him, he felt it, he knew it and it only made him feel even more hurt, because he knew it was all his fault.

Hoseok and Jimin looked at each other, they didn't know what to do, they just knew that you needed to get out of the city right away, it was too dangerous for you.

"(Y/N), we have to go." Hoseok said and suddenly you felt like you couldn't do it anymore, you felt like everything you said hours earlier meant nothing and you couldn't go through with the plan anymore. You were stupid to love him. For loving the one responsible for everything bad that had happened in your life since you started dating.

"Look." He said moving away a little, holding your face with both hands, making you look into his eyes. “I love you, it's not an obsession, it's love. And when you get back, I'll prove it if you still want to be mine, okay?” He asked running his thumbs under your eyes and wiping your cheeks. So he joined his lips with yours, in a painful kiss of goodbye. A farewell that wouldn’t be forever, he hoped. Hoseok and Jimin looked away, neither of them with any desire to watch that scene.

As soon as you parted, you turned around and walked towards the black truck and got into the passenger seat. Hoseok and Jungkook stared at each other for long minutes, shooting each other with their eyes.

"Take care of her." Jungkook said harshly, his posture returning to normal, his face showing nothing more than hatred, his being becoming intimidating again. He started to turn to go back to his car, but stopped and faced the two boys there. "The next time you point a gun at me, you better kill me, or I'll kill you." He declared calm, returning to the Dodge. "You go first, I will make sure that no one follows you."

...

Hope you enjoy it 🥰 Please don't kill me

[emptymasks]

And I’ll be coming for you too

Pairing: Tom Cody/Raven Shaddock

Words: 3319

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Tags: Pre-Slash | Canon-Typical Violence | Non-Graphic Violence | Kidnapping | as in the canon kidnapping of ellen in which raven still tries to forcibly kiss her but then backs of maybe some think thats ooc but i dont like writing anything vaguely non-con or dub-con so | yeah im writing fanfic for a ship that has only 1 other fanfiction | Unresolved Sexual Tension | Swearing | Fist Fights | Gangs | Gang Violence | Bikers | raven just likes pretty things deal with it

Read on Ao3

Notes: So this whole fic was just written as a practice for the actual fic I want to write, but I wasn't sure if I was getting Raven's dialogue in character so I thought as a practice I could just write scenes from the film. So all the dialogue is actual dialogue from the film (apart from one line), and Raven's internal voice is all my writing. I wasn't sure whether to post it as this was just to help me practice getting into character for them, but once I finished typing I realised it was 3k words long so I may as well post it.

Also, yes, hi, hello, it's been over 2 months since I posted. I was being so good at writing frequently again and then I just dropped off. I don't know why I became convinced I didn't have the time to write, and when I did I just couldn't get myself to do it. But now the UK is on lockdown and I've had to shut my shop, my only source of income, guess I don't have the excuse of not having time anymore huh.

Also it's late and my eyes were hurting as I proof-read so there may be mistakes there wouldn't usually be, sorry.

He’d almost forgotten how pretty she was.

They’d tied her up as soon as they’d gotten back to the bar and Raven had stayed with his men, sorting things out and going through how he was going to handle her, and how none of them were going to tell anyone where she was.

Ellen was still on the bed where they’d left her, of course she was, it’s not like she’d be able to untie herself. She was moving her arms, trying to tug them free and failing. She was glaring at him with such cold hate that only sharpened her features. Her chest was heaving.

Raven was across the room in an instant. He sat on the bed, putting his hands either side of her waist. Not touching her, not yet. He smirked down at her and her expression didn’t change. He felt a twinge of anger. Couldn’t she feel something, even if it was burning rage? Without thinking he swept down in an attempt to kiss her but she turned her head away.

“You know, you’re making things real hard on yourself. You act nice, me and you fall in love for a week or two, and then I let you go. Nobody gets hurt,” He reached out to hold her cheek. “You see, I ain’t such a bad guy. I just… get excited around pretty girls.”

He tried to kiss her again but she continued to turn away and push her legs up to try and create distance between them. Raven frowned.

There were women in this area that would love a chance with him (some men too), though granted it was more because they figured sleeping with the leader of the Bombers would give them some protection, but here he’d had to go after someone who didn’t want him.

She was so beautiful though, even more so without those brightly coloured lights from the stage beaming down on her. She seemed so much smaller like this…

Raven watched as Ellen continued kept herself pressed away from him. He got to his feet and paced the length of the room and back. This should be easy, she was tied down, just… you know… do it… But he’d been hoping she could be into it, a stupid fantasy. Is that what he’d done all this for, some fantasy crush?

Goddamn, if it was that this would all be so much easier.

He’d sensed the Bombers getting restless. What with other gangs rising up, and trouble with the Road Masters, he’d sensed that somewhere getting pretty displeased about how he was running things. They felt like they hadn’t done anything big in ages, that Raven wasn’t bad enough, wasn’t tough enough. That he was starting to go soft. So what could be a bigger move to show he was not to be messed with than to successfully kidnap the single most famous and heavily-guarded person in Richmond. That would be big enough to shut them all up.

He cast a glance back at Ellen before storming out of the room. He let out a slow breath to make himself appear calm before crossing the hallway and into the room where a group of Bombers were playing cards, and he sat in his usual seat next to Greer. Greer wasn’t the best fighter among them, but he’d quickly become Raven’s right-hand man as he had an uncommon sense of loyalty towards Raven. He’d rather have an okay fighter who’d actually give a shit if he was shot, rather than the best fighter who’d leave him to bleed out in the streets.

Raven put Ellen from his mind. Either she’d come around and they’d have a fling, or she wouldn’t and Raven would move her to somewhere where the others Bombers couldn’t get to her. He didn’t want all his men putting his hands on her, and while he had gone to all this trouble, he wasn’t the type to force himself on someone. Abducting, sure that’s easy and hey you don’t have to hurt them, but he wasn’t comfortable doing that. Not that he could let the other Bombers know that.

He was trying to focus on the game and lit a cigarette, when some blond girl burst into the room.

“Knock, knock,” She said, smugly, as she pointed her gun at them.

Raven calmly took the cigarette out of his mouth. He’d had guns pointed at him too many times for it to bother him anymore. Maybe that would worry some people. Maybe it should worry him.

There was a commotion outside the bar, and then he heard footsteps closer to them, before retreating. Shit, someone figured out where Ellen was.

“Guys, it’s been a slice,” The blonde girl backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her as she ran off.

Raven shot to his feet. “Well don’t all just sit there!” He yelled as the Bombers finally started moving and following her out of the door.

When Raven finally got outside, away from all the bodies crashing into each other in a panic, there was fire in the street. Whoever came for Ellen sure was having some fun. Raven could respect that.

Navigating his way through the fire, he saw a man starting up a bike, a Bomber bike.

“Well,” Raven called over to the man as he approached. “Looks like I finally ran into someone that likes to play as rough as I do.”

The man on the bike turned around. Raven had never seen him before. Strange that it wasn’t a local, only locals knew how to get into the Battery. Maybe he was some hired hero or hitman paid off to get Ellen back.

He was pretty though.

It wasn’t like Raven to not notice that. He’d realised when he was fairly young he had a penchant for pretty things, whether they were girls or guys. His mother used to say it was a good thing he was named after a bird, since he always seemed to chase anything pretty and shiny.

“Yeah, this must be your lucky night.” Oh so the man was sure of himself. Quick too. And what those words could mean in another context. Raven could almost think the man was flirting.

“I’m lucky? I guess maybe I am,” Raven smirked, then dropped into a scowl. “And you’re dumb. Real dumb if you think you can pull this off.”

“I think you’re forgetting something,” The man pulled at the front of his coat. “I’ve got the gun.”

“I can get guns, smart guy, lots of them. Now why don’t you tell me your name?” It was a perfectly normal question. If he was going to find this mystery pretty boy (mystery man, his brain fought among itself) and track him down, he’d need his name. It wasn’t because he was interested… Alright, it wasn’t just because he was interested.

“Tom Cody. Pleased to meet ya,” The man’s lip twitched into the hint of a smile. It annoyed Raven.

“I’ll be coming for her. And I’ll be coming for you too.”

“Sure you will. And I’ll be waiting.”

Raven let his face break out into a smirk that seemed to get under the man’s skin as he turned his head away. Raven watched him set off on the bike, then turned to walk back through the fire.

--

Raven sent Greer to go and arrange the meeting with the cops. Greer could take care of himself, but also Cody wouldn’t care to go after him. Hell, Raven couldn’t show up alone anywhere right now, Tom Cody present or not. Ellen Aim was well loved and being her abductor was not making him any more well liked than he was. People still feared him, sure, but now people from out of town knew his face. He wasn’t sure if he liked that. A guy always needs to be able to disappear. You never know when you might have too.

“I want Tom Cody. I want to nail that son-of-a-bitches’ head to the side walk under that marquee that says ‘Ellen Aim’ on it,” Raven couldn’t help but grin at the thought.

Cody was infuriating him more every second. First he shows up and takes back the girl, then he proceeds to shoot his men, blow up his street, and steal a bike (maybe the bike should bother him less). He wanted to punch him in the face real bad. The idea of Cody losing to him, submitting to him, was a pleasing thought. And he needed it. Not because he was obsessing over Cody, no, not at all, but the Bombers had just suffered a lot of damage while he led them and that was causing a lot of rumblings. If Raven didn’t make Cody pay, the Bombers were going to him pay.

The cops hated him, he knew that. Fuck them.

“And to prove to you that I’m gonna be a nice guy,” Raven continued. “I’m coming in with just two of my men. After I take care of Cody, they’ll be no more trouble,” He was smirking again as soon as he said Cody’s name, he could feel it.

And they were lies of course. For a week or so he’d act like he was keeping his word, but then start to scale things back up again.

“Do your job man, keep the peace.”

--

That fucking bastard cop. Fucking liar. Cody hadn’t shown up. Knowing Officer Price, he’d probably warned Cody to get out of town.

Whatever. It wasn’t like he was dumb enough to trust cops.

He rode down, with Greer and Mikey riding just behind him, and came to a stop in front of the barricade of cop cars. He stopped his bike and watched as the cops approached, clenching his jaw.

“Well?” Raven lounged back on his bike. Cody was possibly still here, or at least could still show up.

“It’s real simple, Raven,” Officer Price spoke up. “There’s no showdown. Tom Cody ain’t here and neither is the girl.”

Oh fuck, yeah the girl. He’d sort of forgotten about taking Ellen back since he’d been so focused on Cody.

Cody who wasn’t fucking here.

“I don’t get it,” Raven felt his jaw starting to shake.

“Get off your bike, Raven.”

Alright, tough fucking cop.

Raven stood, swinging his leg over his bike. “I ain’t too crazy about jails, chief. I got a better idea for ya.”

As Raven raised reached into the pocket of his black, leather coat, he watched the cops tense as they expected a gun.

Idiots.

Raven pulled up the air horn so they could clearly see what it was, and he pressed it.

He watched the cops faces as they realised what was about to happen. It was so fucking satisfying. Watching their faces crumble as he head the rumble of bike engines approach and approach and the cops’ eyes widen as they realised just how many where coming.

“I told your friend Cody I could get a lot of guns.”

It felt like such a brilliant moment.

Some short little runt had to ruin it, pushing his way through the gathering crowd to start yelling in Raven’s face.

“What is this?! You can’t get away with this! You think you can ride into any town and kidnap anyone you want?”

Yeah, pretty much.

“Now, get the hell out of town and leave these people alone,” The man spoke as if he was somehow intimidating. As if that was going to make Raven leave. Pathetic.

He didn’t even need to tell Greer to get the guy out of his face, Greer just stepped forward and punched the man. The officer behind Price scurried over to help the fallen man.

They could easily take the cops. It would be something. Not as satisfying as if Cody was here. It wasn’t fair.

Then there was a screech. Tires on concrete.

Raven saw the red blur before he even recognised it as a car. Cody pulled up behind the cops, perfectly placed so Raven could see him, like he wanted all of Raven’s attention on him. As soon as Cody stepped out, he took one look at Raven and shrugged off his coat. He threw it back into his car with a sharp turn and stalked towards Raven. Raven couldn’t help but inspect the other man’s physique more. Perhaps Cody was more muscular than he’d thought. He could still take him though… especially with what he’d brought with him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Cody didn’t look fucking sorry at all. His face was this blank expression. Raven couldn’t tell if he was angry, or just bored.

He won’t be bored for long.

“I’ve got something special in mind. I brought them along, just for you,” Raven removed his own coat, revealing even more black leather underneath. He turned around to throw his coat onto his bike.

He motioned to Greer to get the weapons he’d brought with him.

“Well my plan went to shit,” Officer Price turned to Cody. “Let’s see how you do.” He stepped closer to Cody as if he didn’t want Raven to know what he was saying, but Raven could still hear. “Kick his ass.”

He watched Cody give a slight nod and a smile to Price. He looked more infuriating when he was smug.

There was shouting people started to run out form their houses, as they got closer Raven realised most of them had guns. Well, he really better fucking win this.

The hammers made a clanging sound as Greer spun them around in his hand, before throwing one to Cody and the other to Raven.

Fuck guns. These were things that could do some real damage. It also got them up close and personal, made strength come into it. Anyone could stand and fire a gun.

“Nice, huh?” Raven twirled the hammer in his hand, looking casual, before pouncing and striking towards Cody.

Cody’s reflexes were good. He dodged every blow and Raven fully realised the weight of the weapon. If you weren’t careful swinging it, it would bring you down with it.

“Get him!” Greer cheered as Raven struck Tom just below the shoulder.

He’d got a hit in. Okay, he could do this.

Their hammers locked and Raven twisted so it fell out of Cody’s grip, but he was quick to pick it back up. Fuck that. When their hammers locked again, Raven let go with one hand to punch Cody in the face.

That did feel good.

He backed Cody up against a car as he kept dodging more blows. He dodged Cody’s swing that continued on through the car window, covering them both in tiny shards of glass.

They continued to fight and while Cody managed to hit Raven, they quickly went to locking hammers against each other’s. This wasn’t going to work. Fuck! Cody was physically stronger than he’d anticipated. He couldn’t tell from that trench coat that underneath was a fucking jock. If he couldn’t beat him with strength, he’d have to be agile. He twisted and kicked his leg out, his boot landing in Cody’s gut.

Cody was caught off guard and Raven punched him again, sending Cody sprawling onto the floor. He was faintly aware of Greer screaming past the adrenaline pumping through him, blocking out everything other than Cody.

He went to strike down on Cody, but the bastard kept moving. He wasn’t paying attention, purely running on emotions, and before he knew it Cody had grabbed his hammer back and swung it around to hit Raven in the back.

Well turns out he’d been right about them fucking hurting.

Cody then managed to get up and bring his knee into Raven’s stomach, before hitting him across the back with the handle of the hammer.

They locked their hammers a final time as they both pushed with all the strength they had. Their gazes flickered between each other and the hammers which were slowly moving down. Raven could feel himself slipping, he wasn’t strong enough, god fucking dammit.

Raven’s hammer clattered to the ground.

He’d fucked up.

He watched Cody swing back and couldn’t help but feel all kinds of fucking scared as he realised if that hammer hit his head he was very much not going to be okay.

But Cody threw the hammer to the ground.

What the fuck?

What the fuck?! He didn’t want Cody’s fucking pity!

Raven heard himself screaming before his brain processed that that noise was coming from him. He charged at Cody, running him up against some of the Bombers, knocking them and their bikes over. He didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care, he just needed Cody to stop being so fucking infuriating.

He kept punching and kicking and Cody fell and tumbled some more, knocking over even more bikes in his path. When Cody tried to stand up, Raven kicked him in his stomach. When he didn’t try to stand up, Raven grabbed him and pulled him to his feet just to punch him in his face and sent him falling back down again.

He approached Cody again, but Cody’s leg flew up (how was he that fucking flexible?) and kicked Raven in the face. It was Raven’s turn to go sprawling over the floor, landing on one of the Bombers.

He looked up and saw Greer’s face was cold. Jesus, fuck, it’s always the loyal ones isn’t it. Or the ones that think you are. How dare he act like Raven was disappointing him?! He’d only been punched once and already the Bombers were giving up on him.

There he was, not paying attention again, and Cody hauled him to his feet, punching him again and again. They were both getting tired. Raven could feel himself slipping. Tom punched him in the face once, twice, three, four times in a row. Raven stumbled back, barely staying on his feet. He wasn’t sure if he was swaying or the whole world was. His vision was getting blurry.

A shape that looked like Cody walked closer to him and all it took was a push on his shoulder and Raven was falling onto the ground.

He was faintly clinging onto consciousness as he heard cheers and then the sound of too many guns cocking.

“Let’s get out of here!” Greer’s voice called out.

He heard the bikes drive off, more and more or them and he wasn’t sure what he hoped for. If they left him here he’d be sent to jail. If they took him with them… fuck. He’d fucked up. They were not going to keep him around as leader. If they took him with them, he was probably going to get more of a beating and either killed or left out in the street to die like some fucking roadkill.

He felt hands on his shoulders.

“I’ve got you, boss,” It was Greer. Greer was picking him up and placing him on the back of one of the bikes.

Fuck. He was fucked.

His bike was left behind because of course no one fucking thought he might need it. They knew he wouldn’t. He was so tempted to just let his body slide off onto the road before they reached the Battery, just slide off and lay there until someone found him, or he died. He didn’t really care which, right now. He tried to move, but Mikey’s hand was tight around his waist.

“Just making sure you don’t fall off, boss. Don’t want you getting any more hurt than you already are.”

Yeah, sure. That was fucking why. Because they were concerned. Not because they were going to take him back and use his limp body like a trophy to whoever knocked his teeth out first.

This was all his fault.

If Raven lived through the night he was going to hunt that man down.

Tom fucking Cody.

[lamptracker]

im obsessed with bodyguard! tom and haz and you need to join this wave. blurb? maybe y/n’s a famous singer and needs a bodyguard and she gets attacked on stage? or whatever you want -🍯

Sorry if this sucks, it’s been a long day and at one point I managed to give myself a fat lip lol

**

You sat in your dressing room, wrapped in a blanket, trying not to cry. The evening had been a blur, honestly. One moment you were on stage, performing a concert in your hometown; the next, you were being ushered offstage mid-song.

“What’s going on?” you asked, confused.

“Someone rushed the stage,” your manager explained. “Came on from the side, we think he may have had a gun.”

“W-what?”

“Don’t worry, Tom spotted it right away. The arena’s been evacuated.”

“I want to reschedule,” you said immediately. “Add a date to the end of my tour, and full refunds if they can’t make it.”

Your manager nodded. “We still don’t know everything that...” his phone buzzed. “I have to take this, can you wait in your dressing room?”

“I...yeah.”

So you sat in your dressing room, waiting for news on what had happened. Who it was that could have attacked you, why they wanted to, if Tom was okay...

Your manager popped his head in. “He’s been taken into custody. Does the name Connor Michaels ring a bell?”

You froze. Connor was your high school boyfriend; you’d broken up with him your senior year because he’d been controlling, verbally abusive. You’d moved on, but clearly he hadn’t.

“Oh... I guess it does. But anyway, he was shouting something about how if he couldn’t have you, nobody could? He was planning to kill you and then himself. Fortunately Tom stopped him, but... Tom was shot in the process.”

“Oh, my God.” You gasped, the tears building behind your eyes spilling forth.

Your manager gently took your hand. “Just his arm, bullet grazed him. He’ll be fine, but he’s on his way to the hospital, and-”

“I want to see him.”

“(y/n), are you sure? This is a traumatic thing, you need time to process, you-”

“Don’t tell me what I need. I know what I need, and I need to see Tom.”

Your manager sighed. “Fine.”

**

You stared out the window during the car ride that felt like hours. When Tom was first assigned to be your bodyguard, you’d assumed he’d be like all the others - cold, impersonal, not interested in anything except a paycheck. 

You loved being a singer, and going on tour, but it could get lonely. On days when you desperately craved a conversation that didn’t involve the business, you’d hoped you could at least turn to your bodyguard. But you couldn’t, because none of them were interested.

Then, Tom came along.

He was a lot smaller in stature than your other bodyguards. But what he lacked in size, he made up for in personality. He was very good at his job - he’d done a great job keeping you safe from paparazzi, or crazed fans. Plus he was always more than willing to strike up a conversation with you.

Over time, he’d become not only your bodyguard but your friend. Your best friend. And maybe... maybe you were falling for him? You weren’t sure.

But tonight, when you got word that he’d been injured trying to protect you, you knew:

You couldn’t live without him.

**

“I need Tom Holland’s room, now,” you demanded when you entered the hospital.

“Miss, I’m sorry, family only; he doesn’t seem to-”

And for the first time ever in your career, you pulled out the stereotypical celebrity card:

“Do you know who I am? i was just performing a concert and I was nearly attacked on stage, Tom risked his life to save mine. Now I want his room and I want it now.”

The nurse’s eyes grew wide as she finally recognized who you were. “I... um, I’m so sorry. Uh... right this way.” 

You nodded as you followed her down the hallway. “I’m so sorry,” you said quietly. “I don’t normally behave this way, I’m just nervous is all.”

“I understand,” she replied. “I was just trying to follow the rules, you know.”

“I know. You were only doing your job, it’s okay.” 

She paused in front of one of the patient rooms. “Here. I’m so sorry again.”

“Please, it’s okay.” You gave her a quick hug. “Thank you.” Steeling yourself, you opened the door and walked into the room.

There, lying in the bed, was Tom. He was hooked up to various monitors, his arm heavily bandaged. He looked up, smiling when he saw you.

“Um... at least he didn’t shoot you,” Tom said. 

You immediately burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, Tom. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You should have never been shot, and it’s all my fault, and...”

“Oh, easy, love, easy. It’s not your fault, really. All part of the job.”

You shook your head. “You shouldn’t have had to get hurt just for me. I... when they said you’d been shot it just... it took the wind out of me. I thought I was going to lose you, Tom. I need you, I... I love you.”

“I love you too, darling. I just wish I’d gotten to tell you under better circumstances, you know?”

You nodded, gently taking his hand in both of yours. “Yeah. But, um... thank you for saving my life tonight. And I’m so-”

Tom shook his head. “Stop that,” he chided. “This was not your fault, you couldn’t have known.” He lifted your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of yours.

Smiling, you stood up and leaned over his bed, softly pecking his lips. “Get some sleep, Tommy, okay? I’ll be right here the whole time. You’ve done such a good job watching over me, now it’s my turn to protect you.”

Tom smiled sleepily at you. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

[thirteen-beaxhes]

Our Last Words - Chapter 5

Summary:  In a universe where the last words your soulmate speaks to you are printed, Cyrus Goodman wants nothing more than to never meet them. And he definitely doesn’t want it to be the blonde-haired boy in his class.

ALL LINKS IN REBLOG

~~~~

Mystery of Love - Sufjan Stevens

It was starting to become stupid, obsessive even.

Cyrus had to slightly modify his regular routine to account for his new behaviour. Earlier, he would wait for TJ at the gates after school from where they would either head to the Spoon with the rest of the group, or on days when TJ had work, Cyrus would accompany him to the gym and stay till his shift ended. Now, as soon as the bell rang for the end of the day, Cyrus would gather his things with lightning speed and rush home, steering clear of TJ’s locker, unless he ran into him on the way. On those occasions, they would walk in awkward silence till the gate. TJ at first would desperately try to make conversation, but eventually just stopped trying. Cyrus would use any momentary distraction to turn in the other direction and walk away. It still took every ounce of willpower to not look back at him.

On those rare occasions when they did meet before Cyrus could make his escape, the unsaid words between them settled uneasily as if both of them wished to reach out and say something, but for some reason, none could find the right words.

Finally, one day, TJ couldn’t handle it anymore. As soon as the bell rang, he ran to Cyrus’ locker and grabbed him by the elbow, startling Cyrus out of his thoughts.

“Can we please talk?” he asked, his voice shaky. He wasn’t looking Cyrus in the eye, afraid of seeing hatred, or worse, apathy in them.

Cyrus forced himself to look up from his shoes at TJ. Instantly, he noticed the difference in his demeanour. Where earlier there was a snarky confident boy, was now one who’s form screamed worry and hesitation. And sadness. And Cyrus was probably the reason. Sighing, knowing he couldn’t run forever (though he tried damn hard), he simply nodded.

They walked down to the swings, but neither of them sat down. They stood around, the silence between them getting louder and louder. Cyrus shifted his weight from foot to foot, unsure of what to say. But before he could find something, TJ spoke up.

“Look, Cyrus. I’m sorry, okay?” he said, his eyes trained to the ground.

Cyrus looked at him in confusion. Well that was unexpected. “Sorry for what?”

“At your house. For almost kissing you. It was in the heat of the moment, and I know I shouldn’t have done anything. But, I just didn’t think of what would happen after. And now look. I pushed our friendship too far. And I’ve ruined it, haven’t I? You can’t even bear to talk to me anymore. Like I said, classic TJ. Anything good I gotta ruin it.”

TJ’s voice seemed shaky, as if he was desperately trying to hold in tears. Cyrus wanted to say something, but he just stood there transfixed.

“I know you probably hate me. Which sucks, because I like you. God, I like you so much, Cyrus and you have no clue. I’ve liked you since the time I heard you sing that adorable song right here at these swings. You’re one of the most important people in my life. And now I’ve blown it.”

With that, TJ turned to leave, wiping away some stray tears. But as he started to walk away, he heard Cyrus say something.

“TJ.” It was soft, barely louder than a whisper.

Cyrus steadied his breath walking up to the other boy, turning him so that they faced each other. TJ still kept his gaze trained to the ground, still avoiding Cyrus’ eyes so Cyrus just grabbed his face and made him look at him.

TJ looked so scared and small, like he was too scared and ashamed to look Cyrus in the eye. The only other time he had ever seen him look like that was when Cyrus was walking away from him and his friends after Reed pulled out a gun. He hated when TJ looked like that, he didn’t deserve it.

Cyrus looked up at TJ and said softly, “I don’t hate you, TJ. How could I? I just, I can’t believe it. It’s never really happened before.”

TJ furrowed his eyebrows. “What has never happened before?”

Cyrus gave him a small smile. “That I guy I like has liked me back.”

It took him a few seconds to completely register what Cyrus had just said, but when he did TJ eyes widened, making Cyrus giggle.

“You, I, what?”

Cyrus, wrapped his hands around TJ’s neck, a smile on his face. “I like you too, TJ.”

As he said those words, TJ’s face lit up in a smile brighter than the sun in summer. He chuckled, wrapping his hands around Cyrus’ waist, pulling him closer into a hug.

“Well, you could have given a guy a warning! I spent all this time thinking you hated me!”

“I’m sorry. I was just going through something. But I’m here now.”

“I’m glad you are.”

They smiled, completely content in that moment. After some time, they sat down on the swings, neither really swinging, but just swaying, occasionally sneaking glances at each other. In the middle, their pinkies were linked together.

“So, what was it, Underdog?” TJ asked, breaking the now-comfortable silence.

“What was what, Teej?”

“What made you fall for me? Was it my handsome face or my impeccable athletic abilities?”

“Well, it definitely wasn’t your taste in fashion.”

“Ouch,” TJ said, miming the impact of a bullet. “You wound me, Muffin.”

“Muffin, huh?” Cyrus teased, his voice light and playful.

“Yeah, seemed appropriate. Wow, I have so many great nicknames for you. How many do you have?”

“Well, I’ll have you know,” Cyrus started, glancing down at his watch. He froze.

5:59.

No no no no.

“Um, hey, on second thoughts, can I do a raincheck? It’s just, I have to go. Homework. Errands. I uh, just have to go,” Cyrus said, fumbling over his words as he attempted to gather his things in a hurry.

“Wait, Cyrus,” TJ tried to say, in an attempt to catch hold of Cyrus’ hand. But Cyrus was surprisingly fast, running in the direction of his house at record speed. Wow, Coach would be proud.

That was close.

*

Cyrus spent a good half an hour recovering from his impromptu sprint from the park. His body was not built for exercise, and it made no qualms in reminding him of that fact. After the room stopped spinning and his stomach no longer felt like an underground rave, he reached for his phone to see texts from TJ.

Teej: hey, u ok?

Teej: im kinda worried cy

Teej: call?

Cyrus hesitated a bit before he pressed the ‘Call’ button, unsure of how he was going to explain himself to the other boy. But he reassured himself. TJ would understand if you didn’t want to say anything. Of course he would.

“Hey,” TJ picked up, his voice laced with concern.

“Hey, Teej. Sorry for ‘Cinderella-ing’ it out of there. I just remembered that I had, uh a thing that I needed to help my mom with. I’m really sorry, I was just worried about being late” Cyrus explained, trying his best to seem convincing.

TJ laughed at his description of how he left, instantly lifting Cyrus’ mood. “It’s okay, Underdog. You seem busy around 6-ish anyway these days. Don’t worry, I have work around 5:45 now, so we can hang out at other times, okay?”

Cyrus smiled to himself, knowing exactly what was happening. TJ knew there was something going on, but he wasn’t pushing. He never did, if Cyrus made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it just then. He was making adjustments, understanding what Cyrus needed without him having to even say a word about it. God, he liked that doof so much. Damn.

“Thank you, TJ.”

“Hey, no need for that.”

They sat in silence again, a common but not unwelcome occurrence. Until TJ broke it.

“Hey, Muffin?”

That new nickname still caught Cyrus by surprise, making his heart skip ten beats. “Yeah?”

“You can tell me anything, okay? But if you don’t want to, I’ll still like you, okay?”

“Okay,” Cyrus said, imagining the other boy also lying in bed, probably playing with that stupid toy basketball of his that he still kept from 5th Grade.

“Sooooo,” TJ said, his voice taking a flirty tone.

“Yes?” Cyrus replied, his voice equally teasing.

“Does this mean that you, the one and only Cyrus Goodman, would do me the honour of gracing me with a date?”

“It certainly does.”

~~~~

Why did i hate this lol i’m sorry if it isn’t as good i’ve been getting headaches all day today sorryyy

[7scorpion]

Basically Arthur x Micah

Sorry guys i really wanted to write this fic but i got tired halfway thru because i started focusing on my oc a little bit... its kind of messy since i havent written in a while but its basically that

also i only post on tumblr mobile so im preemptively apologizing for the non read-more'd post

Rated R to be safe

Cowboy hatefic

"Talk to me Cowpoke." That old, not quite as southern accent hummed from above a dim oil lamp. Leaning shoulders onto the post of Arthur's tent, Micah set a downcast glance from the brim of his leather hat. Eyes searching the warm, glistening-- pathetic, 'brother' before him. He caught his own thoughts again. His wide, well used palms gripping the edge of his cot upon hearing his voice, strong, but still so ... entrancing?

"Now what? Can't you see I'm busy?" Curtly, Arthur shot back, accompanied by his most serious face.

A chuckle, or two, then Micah sighs again "Ain't you never heard of courtesy? I'm asking you to talk. You can't come back from a job in a huff, causin' a scene and NOT expect Dutch to send someone to check on 'ya" He lied.

Micah came to see Arthur on his own accord. Something always stirred him when Arthur was enraged. Wether it be his incessant comments causing it, or, some unfortunate crossing the big lug's path the wrong way. Micah's seen him shout until he was red in the face, and it sent shivers up his spine. It infuriated him, but he had never had a better orgasm in his life thinking about that deep reverberating shout. The way his lips pulled back over his teeth, his blue eyes lighting with impulsiveness, nearly feral. It was almost a bonus for Micah, knowing from the moment he touched himself to the thought, he had to wind Arthur up constantly. Just to hear that deep visceral sound again.

"Really. Dutch, sent YOU. Of all people, to discuss this with ME." Arthurs voice raising just in that little accusatory tone, had gotten Micah to swing up straight, locking eyes with Arthur. "Oh yeah, Cowpoke. Why? You tellin' me I'm not your favorite around here?" Thick sarcasm, the usual cadence out of Micah's lips as it peels into a grin. A disgusted grunt from Arthur is returned; rejection. It helps with the process, Micah tells himself.

Arthur stands from his cot, clothes unfold from his chest. Dark eyes lock on the little bit of chest hair peeking from Arthur's linen that drives Micah wild. There was something so dainty about him? Beautifully male. Micah stirs his hips again, adjusting his growing discomfort.

Arthur steps closer, eyes meet. Micah shoots his glance down for a moment, he cant stand it for long. Piercing eyes, sad, wonderful - Vile. He gives a low growl at Arthurs new position.

"Git on. I'm not dealing with your shit right now." The words fall out of Arthurs mouth with such certainty, and Micah disliked that.

Detouring around Arthur's pitiful excuse for a blockade, Micah steps to his cot feeling welcome to a seat.

"You think yer being funny? What do you want from me?" Arthur half pleaded, now standing over Micah as he was before, watching the rat bastard make himself comfortable. This was one of Micah's favorite angles to view his Cowpoke, with his strong jaw highlighted by the lamp. Thank the Lord he isn't married.

Micah shook his head. "Well, who do you think you are coming into camp like a bat out of hell?" Micah halfheartedly pitched back, as it was all he could think of.

Plain desperate to continue on. Still dazzled by the beads of sweat on Arthurs cheek. He watched his blue eyes roll like they were falling out of his head, so clearly over what Micah intended to 'pull'.

"Please, not now. I really don't have time for this." Arthur groaned, before collecting his gun belt from his chest. "I'm going for a ride, be gone when I'm back." With that, the younger cowboy sauntered to his horse and saddled up. To ride his stress away until sunset. Micah sat enraged. Utterly boiling. His plan turned, and it hasn't worked in weeks. This was his final attempt to get that sweet release from hearing Arthur raise his voice. Weeks had gone by and the man nearly seemed passive, Micah couldn't get a rise, not even out of himself. Micah left Arthurs tent dejected, he needed something new. Simple wordplay wasn't working anymore. Striding to the campfire, Micah mulled his plans and options, for him it was dire. He held his open palms over the fire, squat on a log, eyes glossed in thought. Oblivious to the negging of the stragglers at the evening fire. Nearly desperate for a piece of Arthur's emotion.

Hours feel like days. Sitting, waiting, checking of pocket watches. The sun had gone down nearly two hours ago. Revelers of the camp were loudly singing, mostly out of tune. Micah had sequestered himself as usual at a table, whittling to pass time. His final decision was simply, to try again. Maybe this time he would break the camels back and get a rise. A deep sigh. Relief at the thought of being able to feel it again. To himself, Micah hoped at least some of the campers would be asleep by that time. He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, closing his eyes. Desperately trying to reconjure the image of Arthur in his mind. Shouting for his life. Wonderful, wild, absolutely intoxicating.

"Mister Bell." A familiar low, drawl, dripping with honey drifts through Micahs ear. Eyes open in a flash, and dart upwards to the source; his cowpoke walking past him, with a relaxed grin.

Waves of disappointment overtook Micah. Arthur was calm, his plans were ruined. Stunned silence was exchanged, Micah's eyes darted back to his cigarette. Moments passed in thought before the cigarette was thrust between his lips and pulled to the end, nearly burning his fingers. Micah tossed the ember laden paper to the ground and tailed after Arthur, blind from his disappointment turned rage.

Arthur stood in his tent, wiping his face of the few beads of sweat with his back turned. Unaware of Micah's steam whistle mouth coming up behind him.

"Who do you think you are coming up to me like that!" Micah shouts down at the other man, causing him to whip around on his boot heel. Arthur's face twisted to a look of confusion and offense, he wasn't even aware he'd done anything.

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Arthur argues, in a lower voice, noticing Hosea had laid down for the night a few feet away after joining the small festivities. Micah shoved Arthur forward with a strong right arm, extracting the wind from his chest for a moment. Just like that, Arthur's mood turned. He thrust his arms forward and shoved Micah down.

Trying to catch himself, Micah grasped for anything. The post, the table, then, the ties to Arthur's canvas tent and tumbled to the ground. They barely noticed the canvas had fallen around them before they continued to throw punches inside of Arthur's tent. There was a limit to this Cowpoke's patience and Micah was finding it every time.

"I don't have time for this!" Arthur shouts before landing his beautiful, horrible fist into Micah's face. He sat above Micah attempting to restrain him. "What in the hell is wrong with you?!" Strained shouting through gritted teeth. Upon hearing which, Micah needed to adjust his hips under Arthur to accommodate his new rise.

Noises of resistance, grunts and shouts ensued before Micah found an opening. Arthur slipped on Micah's hips and felt something jab him, for a moment he was sure he was stabbed. With a swift motion, Micah flipped his favorite cowpoke onto his back, a new angle. He'd never seen this perspective before, his Adam's apple so pronounced, cheekbones... that chest. Nearly losing his advantage staring into Arthur's flesh, he resettles firmly, pressing the young man's arms over his head. "Now tell me why you do this to me." Micah uttered words he never thought he would. He felt as though he exposed himself for what he was. Obsessed. "Oh, you just cant help yourself, sick bastard." Arthur mumbled through labored breath followed by a low breathy chuckle, his eyes now trained on Micah's pronounced member. It took less than a moment for Micah to return to earth from Arthur basically calling him a freak. Blood pumping and a deep stare, sweat beads forming, deep, deep breaths. Slower and slower.

Lips meet. Fast and sloppy. Arthur's exposed chest shines under his oil lamp, coarse dirty hands grasp and grab at him. "Get naked, pretty boy." Micah growled, crawling upwards and jerking Arthur to his feet by his open shirt. They couldn't keep their hands off each other to do that.

Kissing desperately, chest to chest, the warmth stimulating that little dead part of their soul for passion. Assisted undressing, hats tossed without a care, physical absorption into the act. The world disappeared around them as they fell to Arthur's cot.

Hand jar, petroleum creme. God's gift to horny cowboys without a woman in sight. In this case, horny cowboys with no interest in the women in sight. Much more consumed with seeing how the other reacts to their provided pleasure. Arthur let himself be laid out, and Micah take over. After all Dutch DID want him to start trusting him more.

Not a delicate touch was exchanged as Micah ferociously tore open Arthur's button down and Arthur tossed Micah's hat away. Micah wasted no time, stepping up quickly to undo his current partner's pants, yanking downward without a care. Arthur couldn't complain, he was still wrapped up in all the groping of his various erogenous zones.

He wasn't going to allow himself to be completely nude, after all this was just impulsive and quick. Arthur was also still dwelling on the possibility that someone might be so inclined as to check on them. Though, who really would want to find out the source of those sounds. Micah unstraps his pants, allowing them to fall below his knees, and Arthur's immediately thrown back into the moment.

"You like what you see, pretty boy?" Micah's dark smug chuckle rings in one ear and out the other as he stares at the younger man sat before his hips. Arthur wasn't a man who needed to ask what he had to do next, he coated his hand in the petroleum and got to work.

[theothersideofhim]

Stan Figures It Out: Part 1 (or, Asmodeus’ Super Fun Beehive Poking Text Log) (or, Nobody)

((So a few days ago me and Sarah went through a lot of really cool character development, but it was all over discord. I’d really like to have a record of it over here and let ya’ll read cuz it was GR8. 

Broke up it up into two parts since it’s so much, and this is part one. Basically Ash ( @ashenheartx ) decided to bother Stan about stealing his idea of making Merlin into a Hell puppet for a hot second, his previous relationship with God, and basically have a big old gay crush on Lucifer. Stan hates all these things and overreacts in true Stan theatrics fashion.

Warnings: NSFW descriptions and general lewd emojis. Ash being Ash. No other triggers far as I know.

Next part to come soon, probably tomorrow.))

Ash:

[txt] ps fuck you for stealing my idea and then failing it btw this is overdue

Stan:

[txt] OH CONGRATULATIONS

[txt] ITS BEEN HOW FUCKING LONG? AND YOU JUST GET THE BALLS TO FUCKING SAY SOMETHING TO ME?

[txt] WELL WELL WELL AT LEAST I KNOW YOU CAN DO MORE THAN FUCK

Ash:

[txt] well your butt was already spanked figured itd take this long for it to heal

Stan:

[txt] HARDY HAR HAR. YOURE REAL FUNNY YOU KNOW THAT? I SHOULD GIVE YOU A PROMOTION TO HEAD FUNNYMAN

[txt] GUESS WHAT THE CURRENT FUNNYMAN IS DOING?

Ash:

[txt] ruling hell for you

Stan:

[txt] WHA

[txt] NO

[txt]

[txt] I PUT HIM IN CHARGE OF THE WRITING TEAM FOR RICK AND MORTY

[txt] SO KEEP THAT IN FUCKING MIND

Ash:

[txt] you lied so hard and fast

[txt] you STUTTERED IN TEXT

Stan:

[txt] WELL I FIGURED THATS HOW YOU LIKED IT

Ash:

[txt] STUTTERED?

Stan:

[txt] I MEANT HARD AND FAST BUT FROM YOUR TRACK RECORD YOU DO SEEM TO LIKE SHRINKING VIOLETS SO

[txt] SHRINKING SHRIEKING NUNS

Ash:

[txt] that was ONE nun 

[txt] well alright it was mORE than oNE nun but she was special circumstance

Stan:

[txt] MMMMHMMMMM. AND BY THE WAY THAT WAS TIME WELL SPENT GOOD JOB. THAT DIDNT TURN INTO AN INCREDIBLE FAILURE

[txt] WHILE WE'RE ON THE FUCKING TOPIC

Ash:

[txt] he is only a failure FOR NOW

[txt] he's still not a defective one like many others

[txt] and has actual power

Stan:

[txt] Yeah he does I'll give him that

[txt] Can you really blame me for trying to step in and speed things up?

Ash:

[txt] yes

Stan:

[txt] Nope not allowed

Ash:

[txt] it is allowed because now it will take TWICE AS LONG 

[txt] because now he has sex and it's not as much of a pressure point

Stan:

[txt] im sorry im

[txt] IM FUCKING

[txt] gagGING BE RIGHT BACK

Ash:

[txt] ?????????? stop thinking about my son's dick

Stan:

[txt] YOU MENTIONED YOUR SONS DICK and please DON'T act like you DON'T think about it

Ash:

[txt] it's kind of my entire schtick to think about hidden treasure

Stan:

[txt] Isn't the real hidden treasure the dicks we sucked along the way though

Ash:

[txt] see now ive gone from mad to camaraderie and i dont appreciate that 

[txt] some how i doubt you have sucked any dicks tho

Stan:

[txt] OH NO IM THE DEVIL OOOOOHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[txt] IVE SUCKED ONE DICK DONT @ ME

Ash:

[txt]  🤔

[txt] proof

Stan:

[txt] UH IM SORRY

[txt] THEY DIDNT REALLY HAVE KIK OR SNAPCHAT BACK AT THE BEGINNING OF THE UNIVERSE

Ash:

[txt] bitch you gave god a bj why isn't this FRONT PAGE news

Stan:

[txt] THERES SOME HIDDEN TREASURE FOR YOU NOW FUCK OFF

Ash:

[txt] GURL WE AIN'T DONE WHO ELSE YOU BLOWIN

Stan:

[txt] RIGHT NOW IM PRETTY SURE EVEN ENTERTAINING THIS CONVERSATION IS CONSIDERED SUCKING YOUR DICK SO YOU??????????

Ash:

[txt] pretty sure my poor dick is flacid and not in your mouth but okay

Stan:

[txt] THE LAST THING YOU WANT IN MY MOUTH IS YOUR DICK

[txt] I'LL SUCK YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING HEAD

[txt] ILL VORE YOU FUCKING TRY ME

Ash:

[txt] honey 

[txt] darling

[txt] you've done worse to me please

[txt] oop kink shamed the devil

Stan:

[txt] If there's anything that can be said for me

[txt] It's that I don't have that as a kink

Ash:

[txt] shocking honestly 

[txt] what with that mouth tum 

[txt] but really not even luci? slacking

Stan:

[txt] YOUSHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT LUCIFERS ENTIRE DICK

Ash:

[txt] why the FUCK would i do that? it's a good dick 

[txt] ESP WHEN IT'S CUTE AND SMALL

Stan:

[txt] LISTEN YOU OVER GLORIFIED FUCK BUDDY

[txt MAYBE I SHOULD TELL EVERYONE ABOUT YOUR LITTLE """""HIDDEN TREASURE""""""

Ash:

[txt] my cute butt because that's not hidden at all and you can ask luci

Stan:

[txt] Is it motherfucker????????????? Is it???? You're telling me you let Lucifer fuck you in the pussy????????????????????????? Because I'm calling bullshit on that. I'm calling bullshit that you ever allow anyone to get that fucking close to you anymore.

Ash:

[txt] well all of that is true, but he is aware of it i am sure. we didn't spontaneously know each other when we dropped out of the sky 

[txt] besides you probably dont share treasure like that because then how do you get to roll around in it when you want to to feel special. you dont. that's like telling people where the candy stash is

Stan:

[txt] YOU REALLY HIDING THE CANDY FOR LIKE 6000 YEARS CHIEF?????[txt] AT THE VERY LEAST I SHOULD GET A TASTE

Ash:

[txt] oh wait did i let the cat out of the bag for you because wow?????????????????? 

[txt] didn't you already know i had a pussy like come on man you've probably found it already 

[txt] it's pretty hard to remember some of that time when we first got down here though

Stan:

[txt] oh no bitch

[txt] i definitely knew

[txt] a shame you don't reMEMBER the fun we had

[txt] but it's been a WHILE AND A HALF

Ash:

[txt] must not have been all that good????????????? 

[txt] dick wasn't bomb apparently 

[txt] besides you alwyas had a thing for luci

Stan:

[txt] I'LL PUT A BOMB IN YOUR ACTUAL ASS I DID NOT ALWAYS HAVE A THING FOR HIM AND STOP CALLING HIM LUCI

Ash:

[txt] you had a THING for luci the first day we hit Hell don't even pretend you didn't 

[txt] luci luci luci 

[txt] how else am i supposed to say his name when he poppin that puss

Stan:

[txt] IM GONNA F CU KING PISSS

[txt] FUCK OFF

Ash:

[txt]  💄💯✨

[txt] and lemme remind you; it pOPS 💦

[txt] if you aren't saying 'luci' when you come im not sure what you're doing with your life 

[txt] but it's the wrong thing, darling 

[txt] i'll pray for you and your weird little obsessive love affair

Stan:

[If Ash is anywhere near the ninth level of Hell at that moment he might hear Stan literally screeching like a raccoon being rammed with a tennis racket. But then shortly after he wouldn't hear anything except for the illusion of Mitski's "Nobody" chorus playing on loop. It was sad and melancholy and repetitive and perfectly summed up the insult Stan WANTED to say about Ash's fucking life, but wasn't able to get past the screaming. Who the fuck cared about Ash's little opinion? Nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody....]

Ash:

[Look, Ash is a CACKLIN' instead of being offended because if Stan had meant to camouflage his feelings he had instead loudly broadcasted them. So, as a final goad, he gently hit send one final time. 

[vid] it's grainy like ten years ago small cellphone quality with sound, but it sure is Lucifer getting railed from chest to between thighs. it's less than thirty seconds and includes orgasms that end with dick withdrawing with an aforementioned pop and leak of white fluid 

[txt]  ❤️ 🎵 ttyl ]

Stan:

[Stan was having a HARD TIME OKAY????? He sure as fuck didn't need to be called out by Ash, and he sure as fuck couldn't keep up the illusion as soon as the video came through. That song snapped right out of Ash's reality with the same kind of swiftness as Stan's surprisingly potent jealousy boiling up within him. The phone got thrown on the ground, stomped on, punched a few times, then kicked across the motel room. 

THEN Stan got out a bat and beat the phone within an inch of it's digital life, manifested a hydraulic press and squished the phone with 12 tons of pressure per square inch, before finally mANIFESTING A GERMAN LEOPARD 2A6 TANK AND ROLLING IT THROUGH THE MOTEL LOBBY TO FINALLY DESTORY THE PHONE. 

(And then blast it with the tank's fully traversing rotating gun turret but by then he'd realized he'd never get that image out of his head no matter how much damage he did the phone.)]

[jessie200109]

Namjoon neglects you for his work.

“ Namjoon.” Y/N sighed out in mild annoyance, looking towards her boyfriend and waiting on his response. Namjoon simply grunted in  reply before refocusing on his work.So much for hanging out today, she thought to herself, feeling frustration begin to coil inside of her. Maybe if I’m persistent, he’ll listen,she mutters to herself.

“ Nams? “ she repeats, this time getting a slightly better response from her boyfriend who quickly turns around to glance at her, before flashing a dimpled smile in her direction and refocusing on his work. She rolled her eyes at his noncommital response but internally almost had a heart attack because of how adorable his smile is. When he smiled at her like that, she could feel her heart almost stop. Only he had ever had that effect on her and sometimes it scared her how attatched she was tohim already, after only dating for eight months.

She glared at his focused figure, eyes squinting at the screen and fingers  absentmindedly tapping out the beat to the song. She decided that it was time to bring out the big guns. “ Joonie-oppa?” she calls sweetly, smiling in satisfaction when he whips his head towards her, adoration and shock evident in his eyes. “Did you call me oppa?” he questions, almost giddy in excitement, cheeks reddening as he stares at you. She had told him earlier in their relationship that she did not want to call him oppa as so many people did so already, and she wanted to  have a unique nickname for him, something that was hers, and hers alone to call him. He had been disappointed at the time but he had understood her reasoning, which was why this came as such a shock to him.

He wheels up to where she lay on the couch, in his fancy chair, and leaned down, kissing her softly, but briefly. In that moment, she can feel her heart all but leap out of her chest and she closes her eyes in contentment, sure that her plan had worked. She wants to scream when he detatches himself from her and wheels himself back to  his desk where he continues to work.

“Joon? “ she whisper softly? “ Are you almost done?” He throws a brief look in her direction before nodding in agreement. “ Five minutes, jagi. Almost there.”

And she waits. Five minutes later, he is not done, ten minutes pass and he is still not done. She can feel herself becoming frustrated and  the tears welling up in her eyes. She was so desperate for him. She wanted his attention and she wanted it now, because he had promised it to her. He told her if she came to see him, that they would hang out together, and she had waited so patiently, but now she was tired of waiting. She wanted her boyfriend : she wanted to be kissed and cuddled and held and that was not happening. She had not seen him all week and she knew hewould be leaving on tour just now.And that fact only made more tears of loneliness and frustration sting at the back of her eyes.

‘ Oppa!” you call one last time, tears evident in your voice but his eyes do not leave the screen and, now, he, too seems frustrated.

‘ For the love of God, Y/N, give me one more minute.” he snaps at you exasperatedly. That was the last straw for her. She feels the tears build up and fall down her face, hot and wet, and  she glares at him before storming out of his studio, ignoring his cry of surprise. She  stomps down the corridor and into the lounge, where Jimin is watching a movie , his mouth half stuffed with popcorn. She collapses next to him on the couch,  cossing her arms and pouting, as tears fall steadily down her fce, much to poor Jimin’s bewilderment. Jimin nudges her arm before asking her if she was okay. At his question, she bursts into hysterical sobs, burying her face in the sleeve of his t-shirt as he pats her head awkwardly, in a mild gesture of comfort.

“Seriously, Y/N, what’s wrong?” he questions again, a tone of worry evident in his voice.

‘ I miss Namjoon, Jimin, I miss him so much but  i don’t thinkhe feels the same way. He always chooses something else over me. When he has days off,  he prefers to work. Don’t get me wrong - I love how hard he works, trust me I do, its part of the reason I fell in love with him in the first placebut  I miss Namjoon being my boyfriend. I want his hugs and his kisses and his cuddles, Jimin. I just ant some of his attention, is that really too much to ask for? It just makes me feel like I’m a burden and I’m super clingy and obsessive and I hate feeling that way.”

After her rant, she bursts into a fresh set of sobs, much to Jimin’s dismay and buries her head in his sleeve again. Suddenly, she feels a pair of  hands pulling her away from Jimin and into a firm chest. Recognizing the familiar warmth, she wraps her arms around his neck and continues sobbing hysterically into his chest. 

“ Baby, baby, Y/N, please stop crying. please.” Namjoon sounds pained as he utters those words, in a failed attempt to make you stop crying. He begins pressing soft kisses toher hairinstead, in an effort to calm her down.

“ Y/N,Y/N, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please forgive me.” As he utters those words, she feels a warm wetness begin to seep through her hair. She pulls away in alarm, looking up to  see Namjoon almost having a silent breakdown above her, chiking on his own tears. She reaches upwards, wiping off his tears with her thumbs while muttering soft reassurances. 

‘ Namjoon,shh. I”m still  here, and I sill love you, okay? Don’t worry.” she attempts to comfort him as best as she can and he buries his head in the crook of her neck, desperately trying to calm himself down. Once he manages to do so, he pulls away,  looking  at her determinedly.

“ I’m sorry I hurt you, jagi,but you have to know that I love you with  all that  I am, and  I’m going to make sure you know it from now  on, okay? Believe it  or not, you are my first priority and  I’m working so hard because I want to provide for you, for  us, later on.” he speaks sincerely, looking at her with earnest eyes. She almost burst into tears again, but decides against it, for Namjoon’s heart’s sake.

‘ I understand, Joon.” she speaks softly smiling up at him gently.

“And you have to tell me  when you feel this way, “ he insists,staring at her intensely “ And” he begins but she rolls her eyes at him before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him quickly. 

“Just cuddle me, Namjoon” you tell him, watching as a smile slowly spreads on his face. He gently lays her down, before cuddling up to her, a smile of contentment never leaving either of their faces as they fall asleep,despite the tear tracks tracing both of their cheeks.

This is my first scenario. Im sorry the ending was kinda weird. Please leave feedback!!! And requests!!