Summary: Grin and bear it.
That was the mantra Harriet kept repeating in her head.
Grin and bear it.
Trigger warnings: Inhumane conditions, swearing, perceived discrimination, drinking, childhood trauma, etc.
Merry Christmas @panthera-tigris-venenata .
It would come as a surprise to absolutely no one that Harriet Hook hated Christmas.
Christmas on the isle was cold and dreary and it usually snowed horribly or hailed—making it harder to find edible food and durable shelter for those of the isle who had nowhere else to go but the horrid great outdoors.
Many didn’t survive the long winters.
And while the isle mourned and fought amongst themselves, Auradon showed cheerful movies about reindeer, talking snowmen, and Santa Claus—movies that were chalked full of things the isle kids would never have like unspoiled eggnog, freshly baked christmas cookies, gingerbeard men, and presents in good condition handed out by smiling parents who loved their children and had the means to give them such things.
Harriet hated the holiday.
And she didn’t believe in Santa.
At least, not the version presented in the cartoons and movies they would show.
In her mind, it was all bullshit.
The real Santa Claus wasn’t a kind man who rewarded truly good children. No, the real Santa Claus was a holier than thou bastard who only rewarded children who were perceived as good—not accounting for the abused or neglected children who would never be considered good by those around them or for the children who had no choice but to be bad by society’s standards to survive.
He didn’t care about any abused children in Auradon, if there were any left and he certainly didn’t care for people like Harriet.
The real Santa Claus hated Isle kids and that was apparent.
Harriet was almost eleven by the time the Isle’s Santa started distributing presents to every living kid on the isle and fixing up the graves of the dead kids after all. Old enough to know that The Isle Santa wasn’t the real deal.
She’d had several Christmases of disappointment by then.
Several Christmases of the adults in her life barely being able to scrape by and find enough food to keep her and her siblings alive. Christmases that usually ended up with them all getting drunk till they passed out when they thought she and her siblings couldn’t hear.
Her and Harry and CJ had all gotten presents, sure, but it wasn’t anything magical like what was shown on TV—no, it was just stuff they needed and if they were lucky, a toy that wasn’t too far damaged when it was donated to the barrage.
Her dad was always drunk in the days after. Ashamed, angry, and bitter about the fact he couldn’t do more for them.
By the time the fake Santa started leaving gifts, Harriet was able to tell that the gifts weren’t from a workshop in the North Pole but handmade by someone inexperienced or fished from the barrage and the ocean.
All it only made the pirate captain hate the holiday more.
Why wouldn’t it?
Harriet only had bitter memories of the holiday.
Memories where she knew Santa and Auradon hated her.
Harriet hated Christmas.
But if there was one thing that could make Harriet celebrate it?
“I’m sorry. Did I just hear that right?” Sammy asked, staring at her—and for some reason, he looked a bit nervous.
“I need your help to make Christmas special for the rest of the crew, the twins, and Owena—the kid Uma’s crew took in.” Harriet gritted out. Eye twitching slightly.
She didn’t like having to repeat herself.
Especially not when it came to this situation.
“Why me?”
“Because you’re the only one who can keep a secret.”
Sammy snorted and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “that’s what you think” but Harriet didn’t question it because she was nowhere near drunk enough for that conversation.
“How the hell are we supposed to hide a whole ass tree from the entire crew?” Harriet asked, taking in the tree Sammy had apparently chopped down with her eyes.
It wasn’t a pine tree.
Not like the ones on tv anyway.
Nothing on the Isle was anything like it was on Auradon TV.
The tree was long, skinny, and battered with sparse, discolored leaves that were just barely hanging on and looked like it had been dying long before Sammy or her was born—which, since it had been growing on the isle, it probably had been. But still, it would be heavy and if it was just going to be the two of them carrying it then it would be hard to sneak it onto the ship without anyone noticing.
“By carrying it in when everyone is out.” Sammy said blankly, as if it was obvious—shaking a can of green spray paint before he started spraying the tree. “Now. Keep an eye out so we don't get jumped.”
Harriet bristled slightly. “How, exactly? Someone's always on the ship. Nikita, Raymonda, Na’vi, Nova, Henry, and Anais live on the ship, and it's a coin toss on whether your brothers or any of the crew’s siblings and cousins will be on the ship or not. Not to mention our actual crew and don't even get me started on the youngin’s in Harry's crew.”
It felt like the ship was never empty these days.
“Which is why I called in a favor Homicide, Kai, Ula, and Uziel owe me and got them to agree to distract everyone for a couple of hours starting at exactly 6:00 O’Clock.”
Harriet raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “And why exactly do three of my cousins owe you a favor?”
Sammy let out a long suffering sigh before giving her an unimpressed look. “Do you really want to know or do you want results? I can only give either or. Not both.”
‘It was for the kids and for the crew,’ Harriet reminded herself, grunting as she backed up the gangplank with the top half of the tree gripped firmly in her hands. Trying her hardest to keep a decent grip on it knowing that it was likely to break into pieces if the damned thing was dropped—it would be the luck of an isle kid, after all.
It was for the kids and the crew, and Harriet was not going to quit until the stupid tree was hidden somewhere in the ship and decorated so nicely that all of her friends would weep in delight from the sight. Achy back and creaky neck be damned.
The tears the crew of the Queen's Fury and the children would be crying would not be tears of joy.
Of that, Harriet was sure, as she looked at the newly decorated Christmas tree with a barely disguised grimace.
Sammy had managed to dig up three Christmas bubbles (two of which were broken) and some flickering fairy lights in the barrage but that hadn't been enough to fill the tree.
So they'd had to take some…. creative…liberties. Like tapping a couple of lanterns to a couple of the branches and breaking into Madam Medusa, Eq, & Cruella’s jewelry boxes for the best earrings the isle had to offer to hook onto the tree next to shiny bottle cups, broken glass bottles, and fish bones.
They'd thrown one of Harriet's old hats on the top as a tree topper and used a moldy bite ridden rope as garland.
It looked more like a crime scene than a Christmas Tree and joy was the farthest thing from what the pirate captain felt when she looked at it.
And Harriet could just tell by the look on Sammy's face that he hated how it looked too, no matter how much he tried to claim otherwise.
“What are you lot doing here?” Harriet asked with an exhausted stare, too tired to speak above her ‘inside’ voice.
Homicide (Morgie's eldest son) shrugged, a big red sack draped over his shoulder.
Behind him were Kai (Morgana of the sea’s daughter) and Ula & Uziel (the son and daughter of Uliana), all three with big red sacks of their own as they walked up the gangplank.
“We owed Sammy a few favors.”
The raven haired girl just let out a long suffering sigh, deciding that she just didn't want to know why that was at this point. Harriet wasn't scared to ask, per say (lie), but she figured that this whole thing was likely something she would need deniability on.
Even if she'd end up stuck dealing with the fall out regardless.
“That doesn't really answer the question but come aboard, I guess.”
Presents and enough food that they could have a feast.
That's what Harriet’s cousins had brought on Sammy's behalf.
“You crazy son of a bitch, what do you have on them?” Harriet’s eyes didn't stray from the pile of presents tha nearly filled the storage room they'd hidden the tree and food in.
Christmas was in the morning.
Sammy definitely had to be blackmailing them.
The blonde didn't even deny it, not looking away from the (mostly canned) food he was looking over. “You don't want to know.”
“Sometimes, Sammy, you scare me.”
“Not enough to keep you sober, apparently.”
Harriet snorted. “No one scares me enough to keep me sober.”
The next day the pirates of the Queen’s Fury and the Lost Revenge came together and feasted on badly made Christmas cookies, crepes, slightly used candy, rum, slightly out of date eggnog, and much more.
They danced, they sang sea shanties, they told stories, and they laughed when the roughhousing broke out.
Nobody had cared what the tree looked like and Diego had even laughed when he recognized some of the earrings on the tree as his aunt’s.
It was a good night.
Harriet would even call it a merry one.
It was the best (and even only, for some of them) Christmas any of them had ever had.
Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal), Rough Oral Sex (blow job, face fucking), Spanking / Whipping (with a drumstick), Obsessive Reader, Toxic / Power Imbalanced Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Suggested Dubcon / Reluctant / Compliant Reader
Words: 10,418
Pairing: Drummer!Bakugou Katsuki x Superfan!Fem!Reader
Quirkless, Punk rock band AU
BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~
Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+
This was incredibly frustrating. Finally, after years of admiring and being an incredibly dedicated fan, you were standing in front of your favorite punk rock band. They were just a few feet from you, so close that you could reach out and touch them. How badly you wanted their full and undivided attention was near suffocating, and yet, it was so difficult for you to find the courage to speak at all. You had given them your name after you had been brought backstage for the meet up, which was a perk of the insanely expensive VIP tickets you and your friends had purchased.
That’s all that you had been able to say. Your friend, however, was absolutely bursting with questions. You were very close to her, but damn, you wished that she would just stop talking long enough for someone else to get a word in. All day you had been brooding over what you wanted to ask, what you wanted to say to these men that had been such a huge part of your life for the last few years. Their music had inspired you, made you cry, pumped you up so much that you’d jump around your room and just jam out. But, more than that, they had saved you. You didn’t know how to explain it, or even how it happened in the first place, but you had truly begun to feel like their existence is what you lived for.
Was that unhealthy? Probably. But who could blame you? You loved every single one of them. All five men were like your best friends, and you felt so close to them from your time following them on social media and attending their concerts. You knew them like the back of your hand, from birthdays, to favorite food, drinks, hobbies, past or current girlfriends, and you had even found out their personal telephone numbers. Had you ever called them? No, of course not. That would be creepy.
Midoriya Izuku, the band leader and lead singer, was being the most engaging as far as answering questions. Unlike their punkish attire and aesthetic, he was like sunshine, incredibly friendly and soft with his curly green hair and freckled cheeks. He was adorable, able to make all the little fangirls scream and squeal with his grin and a cheeky wink.
Todoroki Shouto, lead guitar and backup singer, was the quiet pretty boy of the group, breaking hearts with his intense and piercing stare. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have a soft side to him, but more than anything, he was extremely dense, and his genuine confusion was what made him so desirable.
Kirishima Eijirou, second guitar, was another ray of sunshine amongst the black clothes and punk piercings. He loved to get the crowd riled up, his endless energy and cheery personality infectious. Out of everyone, he was the most openly friendly without a hint of shyness and treated everyone like he had known them forever.
Kaminari Denki, bass guitar, was the group idiot. He was nice, but often did and said things that could get the group into trouble or make a fool of himself in the public eye. Funny and playful, he could make anyone laugh, either from a joke or from just being a silly fool.
Although you adored them all, one of them had you in his grip, like your heart had been locked in a vice that grew tighter every time you saw him. The fifth member, Bakugou Katsuki, was your absolute dream man. Rough, arrogant, mean, and foul mouthed, he was the bands second in command, drummer, and backup singer for moments that required his deep and gruff voice. God, he was everything you ever wanted in a partner. Boyfriend. Husband. Whatever! You wanted him so badly that you dreamed about it constantly, picturing yourself in those strong arms or having those calloused hands on your body. Much to your misfortune, he was the most private on social media, so there was still a lot about him that you didn’t know.
That was one of his most attractive qualities to you. His mystery and his silence. What was he really like? Was he this grumpy and off putting with those close to him? Did he have a gentle side of any kind?
You wanted to know everything about him! But, standing here in front of the entire band, you were frozen, not able to make a squeak. Even your eyes were locked on the floor, unable to look up at them in fear that you would gawk a little too intensely. Or start crying. One of the two would happen, probably.
Your chance to interact with your heroes was slipping by with each moment, however, and you didn’t know if you’d ever get to have this chance again. What did you want to say? What questions had you thought about? You had a million of them, all you had to do was just say one. Something. Anything!
“Bakugou-!”
The name slipped from your lips in a sharp snap, which tapered off at the end with a tremble. Just as the sweet name left your lips, your eyes darted up, catching the confused and irritated crimson glare of the blonde drummer. At first, you were taken aback by his current appearance, still flushed and sweaty from the concert performance. His blonde spiked locks were wild and unruly, bangs stuck to the sweaty skin of his forehead and cheeks. He was so handsome, all messy and hot--
“U-uhm…” Your friend that stood beside you gave you a nudge in the side, though she was unable to pull your gaze away from Bakugou, who’s annoyed snarl made your heart begin to race. “[Name], I was about to ask something else…”
“What’d you want to say, you damn shitty extra.” Bakugou barked at you, ignoring your friends' whine at being interrupted. “Don’t just bark out my name and then stand there like a fucking moron.” That gruff and demanding voice was intoxicating, making you involuntarily clench your thighs together and clutch at the fabric of your skirt.
“I… I was wanting to know. Uhm,” Your eyes darted across his face and his chest as you tried to think of what you had been wanting to ask him. You couldn’t remember for the life of you, but as your gaze landed on the piercing he had on the bridge of his nose, a thought popped into your head and curiosity flourished instantly. “How many piercings do… do you have?”
Bakugou’s eyebrow cocked in initial confusion at the question, before returning to its usual furrowed position. “The fuck? That’s kind of personal, ain’t it?”
“I’ll tell you how many I have.” You weren’t sure if the teasing, flirtatious sound of your voice was purposeful or not, but just hearing yourself made the tips of your ears flush. “Five types… Nine piercings total. I bet you beat me on that, hm?”
“Tch, that’s fucking nothing, you little punk poser. I have nine types, thirteen total.” Bakugou shoved his hands into the pockets of his loose shorts, pulling the fabric down just enough to show the skin of his left hip and a peak of his boxers. One of the stated piercings gleamed in the light once exposed, and it took all your willpower to not hyper focus on it. “Not like you’ll ever know them all or see them.”
“I bet I could guess.”
“You’d fucking fail, moron-”
“A-ah, let’s not!” Midoriya interrupted, giving a nervous laugh and a wave of his hand to pull your attention off Bakugou. “We’re not here to talk about such personal things, you know! Right, Kacchan?”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Bakugou shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, giving an annoyed click of his tongue. “I’m not in the mood for this bullshit.”
“Why?” You once again spoke without thinking. “Because you missed your cue during Collide?” The accusation immediately had Bakugou’s eyes widening in surprise before he scoffed, glaring crimson daggers at you.
“Well aren’t you just a fucking super fan.”
“I try to be.” Although you knew that he wasn’t kind to you, the fact that he noticed your extreme interest in the band made your cheeks flush, looking down at the ground between your black combat boots. The t-shirt you had paired with your skirt was your favorite that you owned of the bands merchandise, and just seeing it as you gaze down over your chest made your stomach bubble nervously. Was it really that obvious? Was it weird to him? Did he like it?
“Ah, well, anyway!” Your friend piped in again, taking a step closer to Midoriya with a sparkle in her eyes. “Deku! Please, tell us about your girlfriend!”
Midoriya instantly went into his flustered state of rubbing the back of his head, his stuttering and embarrassed gibberish cracking with his exhausted voice, leaving you once again off to the sidelines. With a small, quiet sigh, you fiddled with the hem of your skirt, more questions burning on the tip of your tongue. In your down casted vision, you saw Bakugou’s feet shift, and there wasn’t a second thought in your mind about looking up at him. Your gaze immediately locked with his, which was still a dark and threatening glare.
Your heart instantly skipped a beat, the heat in your cheeks growing hotter. Had he already been looking at you? Why was he glaring so intensely? You didn’t think that he would get upset with the mention of his mistake that you had pointed out, but perhaps he had gotten embarrassed? In truth, you hadn’t meant your statement to be argumentative in any way. You were more concerned about him. Messing up during a performance was a big deal, and though most people might not have noticed, you were curious if it was eating at him or if he just doesn’t care.
Then, he made a move that you didn’t expect. With a quiet click of his tongue, he began to make his way out of the room, only stopping at the door when Kirishima spoke up.
“Woah, man, where are you going?” The redhead interrupted Midoriya, who also looked at Bakugou curiously.
“I work a lot harder than all of you assholes during a show! I’m sick of fucking standing around, and these losers aren’t even interesting. I’ll be in my room.” Before anyone could stop him, the door slammed shut with his exit, and you turned your attention to Midoriya as he sighed.
“A-aha, I’m sorry about Kacchan! He’s uh… he doesn’t like meetups much.”
“That’s a shame…” You mumbled under your breath, already missing his presence. You could still feel that glare on you, so threatening and dangerous. This had been your chance to really make yourself stand out from the crowd and show him how genuinely interested you were in him, and you wasted it. You cared about him more than these other women that fawned over him like brainless zombies. You were perfect for him. You knew you were, without a doubt, and you wanted him.
It was true that the rest of the band members were close to your heart, that you admired all of them as your heroes. But Bakugou… You had just ruined your chance to talk with him and get to know him.
There wasn’t anything else you could do.
“Is there a bathroom I can use?” Your question once again popped out of your mouth during the middle of a conversation, though instead of stopping it, Kirishima smiled at you sweetly. His kind face and gentle touch to your arm to lead you away from the group so he could talk to you had your heart racing, almost too scared to take a step in fear that you’d trip with how distracted you were by his face.
“Yeah, babe. Go left down the hall, you’ll see it marked. Don’t get yourself into trouble, m’kay?”
B-babe? Aahh, why would he call me that? He’s too sweet for his own good. Cheeks flushing, you gave a small nod, thanking him quietly before heading out of the room, taking a final quick glance at the group behind you to catch Kirishima giving you a playful wave. Of course, by the time you stepped outside into the hallway, Bakugou had already vanished. Using what you had remembered of the route to get to this room from backstage, you hadn’t seen anything that was labeled as a changing room for any of the men. So, you went left down the hall as you had originally been instructed, glancing at each door you passed to see if there were any names scribbled on the dry erase board many of them sported.
Your heart nearly stopped when you finally saw it. Bakugou Katsuki, written in red marker with a shitty doodle of what looked to be a hand holding up the middle finger, along with the words “fuck off”. Before going in, you took a moment to press your ear up against the door, listening closely to see if there were any signs of life. There wasn’t a single sound or hint of movement, so gathering your courage and glancing up and down the hall for danger, you took hold of the doorknob, your heart beginning to race as it moved without resistance.
With a quiet click, the door opened, not making another sound as you cracked it just enough to look inside. The lights were on, and your suspicions that he hadn’t been inside were confirmed. Feeling a bit discouraged, you considered just going back to the room to finish off your time with the rest of the band. That would probably be enough to satisfy your longing for them, right? The others could be great company, and maybe Bakugou would come back before you left.
But, deep in your chest, you could feel the need to be with Bakugou alone to talk to him one on one. You wanted his attention more than anything, and you knew that there wasn’t going to be another chance for you to see him this close again any time soon. No, you couldn’t run away. You had already come too far to back out now. What’s the worst he could do? Kick you out? Call security to have you removed? Call you names? Press you up against the wall and threaten you?
Ah, well, maybe that wasn’t all that bad. You’d probably melt in his hands and collapse on the floor in a blushing puddle of tears if he so much as touched you.
Gathering your resolve, you pushed yourself on into the room, walking lightly and glancing this way and that to make sure he wasn’t just laying on some furniture or something to take a nap. Feeling confident that he wasn’t in the room, you shut the door behind you with a light click, taking a few timid steps into the room. Almost instantly, you were completely engulfed by the scent of his body spray, which you had only been faintly able to pick up while in the group. It was such a powerful scent, bold and intense, just like him. How quickly just the simple scent of him made your core burning hot was a bit staggering, feeling your knees already growing weak and your chest growing tight.
This is harder than I thought… Just from smelling him like this I feel like I’m going crazy. And he’s not even in here! I should leave before I get too distracted… But… This is his stuff!
Beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed being in the presence of Bakugou’s possessions, your teary gaze scanned the room methodically, surprised to see that the room was actually very well kept. With his brash personality, you more expected Bakugou’s personal space to be a wreck, but the only thing that was really out of place was a small pile of clothes tossed aside next to a suitcase. A desire to be close to Bakugou driving you, there wasn’t a moment of hesitation as you made your way towards it, squatting down. Right on top was the tank top he had just been wearing, still soaked with his sweat. It was the most recent thing that had touched his body. It still had his essence all over it. How could you just leave it there?
Picking it up, you brought the shirt up to your nose, inhaling deeply. It was absolutely delicious, your body quivering from the excitement and adrenaline beginning to pump through your veins. You were actually holding one of Bakugou’s sweaty shirts in your hands, one that he had just performed in! This was absolutely real. It wasn’t a dream!
Becoming overwhelmed with your feelings for him, you flopped back to sit on your butt, spreading your legs open. Since you were wearing fishnet hose with decently large holes, you had direct access to your already soaked pussy, the little lace thong easily moved aside. Now, all that existed to you was the scent wafting off his shirt and your fingers eagerly stroking your sex, alternating between stroking your clit and digging two of your fingers inside you. The cloth of the t-shirt pressed up against your lips and nose, you panted and moaned softly against it, imagining that you were right up against his chest, his fingers teasing your cunt.
You were so engrossed in your fantasy that you could even hear him taunting you, that deep growl of his voice in your ear.
“That’s right, babygirl. You like when I finger that slutty pussy, don’t you?”
“You’re so fucking wet, you little whore. Dripping all for me.”
“Getting horny just from the smell on my clothes? You dirty fuck.”
“What the fuck are you doing?!”
The sudden rattling boom of a familiar yell startled you out of your pleasant daydream, turning your moan into a squeal as you nearly jumped out of your skin. Spinning around, you were met with the wide-eyed shocked crimson glare of your dream man, who was standing halfway in the room, as if he had stopped in his tracks upon seeing you. All you could do was sit there in shock, still holding his shirt up to your face as your other hand tried to pull your skirt down between your legs, as if to hide your sin.
“I,” Stuttering, you tried to gather yourself, clenching your thighs together tightly. “I, uhm, Bakugou, it’s not- How’d you… get in?”
His shocked expression contorted into one of confusion, then into annoyance, his brows furrowed deeply as he startled at you. “Are you fucking kidding me? You didn’t lock the door, ya dumb cunt.” Walking the rest of the way inside, he slammed the door shut loudly behind him, startling you again enough to scurry back against the wall, your knees pulled up to your chest protectively. “What the fuck are you even questioning me for? You’re the horny bitch sitting on my floor sniffing my fucking clothes and touching yourself.” Without having to look back at the doorknob, Bakugou gave the little lock a twist, setting the latch firmly in place.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you could only stare at him, your eyes captivated by that fierce glare. How hot he made you only intensified now that he was back in your presence, and more than that, the asshole was even shirtless. His flawless muscular figure made your mouth feel dry, as if any and all liquid your body could produce was pooling between your legs. It was everything you could do not to start touching yourself again, clutching onto his shirt with both hands tightly. “I… I’m sorry. I just… I-”
“You’re just a damn psycho fan, aren’t ya?” Reaching up to give his hair a quick ruffle, Bakugou started making his way towards you, his ruined and ragged skater shoes squeaking against the smooth wooden floor. “I’m surprised you didn’t rip your shirt off during the fucking concert and throw your bra on stage.”
“I’m not stupid like those girls… I have dignity. And I don’t want a bunch of other people seeing my tits anyway.” Your voice lowered down to a meek whisper by the time he stood in front of you, both of his hands on his hips, as if he were about to scold you like an angry parent. With him so close, your eyes glanced over every inch of his bare torso, drinking in how absolutely flawless he was. What was even more enticing was the piercings he had so proudly boasted about not long ago, a pair of them placed on his collarbones, nipples, and hips.
“Tch, dignity?” Bakugou scoffed, a sly smirk crossing his lips. “‘Dignity’, the little slut says, as she sits on the floor in my dressing room fucking herself to the stench on my shirt. Pathetic.”
“What are… Are you going to kick me out?”
“There’s a lot that I could do to you,” Bakugou’s smirk turned wicked, his lips curling up to show his gums. “But how about you tell me what the fuck you were doing in here?”
“I just… I really wanted to get an autograph or picture with you. You’re my,” Your breath caught in your throat, not wanting to let it slip that he was your absolute dream man. “You’re my favorite band member.”
“Then what are you doing with my clothes?”
An intense burning suddenly rushed to your cheeks with a new round of embarrassment, and with it came the stinging sensation of tears building up in your eyes. What had you been doing? You had just wanted to talk to him more, to get to know him better, and just spend time with your hero. And yet, you had let yourself get completely overwhelmed by a burning desire for him, one that was just too strong to ignore in the moment of solitude with his possessions. You knew that you had a very intense crush on him, but that bad and that… gross? You had told yourself over and over that you weren’t like the desperate women who would do anything filthy to get his attention, yet here you were, sniffing his clothes and touching yourself.
“I… I don’t know what I was doing.” Your voice quivered as you avoided looking at him, trying to blink the tears away. “That was really gross of me. I had just… wanted to see you in private. I wasn’t getting a chance to talk to you, to any of you, and… I just wanted my chance.”
“You wanted your chance, eh?” Bakugou brought a hand up to his chin, rubbing it as if he were in thought, contemplating his options. “So much that you’d sneak into my room, to wait for me or try to corner me?”
Swallowing the lump that had grown in your throat, you coward down back against the wall, wishing that you could just shrink away in shame. Your impulses had completely ruined your chances. He had to think you were a total freak by now, he’d never want to even give you the time of day.
“Ya know,” Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest, taking a half step closer to you. His posture and presence over you was so aggressive and domineering that you couldn’t find it in yourself to move, only pulling your legs up tighter to your chest to try and get further away from him. “You talk all big, saying that you’re not like those other extras out there that’ll drop their pants in seconds for me. That you have ‘dignity’. But I don’t think that’s true. I think you’re just like those other sluts out there, a stupid whore that is driven by nothing but her cunt.”
You gave a small shake of your head, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs and the swirling in your stomach from how he was treating you. You couldn’t believe it was turning you on so much. “No, I… That isn’t what I wanted.”
“I think it is. You’re disgusting. Nothing but a filthy super fan and a stalker. Why don’t you just admit it?”
“Because… It’s not true. I love you, but not… It’s not all like that.”
“If you loved me, you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” The change in tone caught you off guard, his voice no longer accusatory and vicious. Instead, his growl was almost soothing, as if he were trying to calm your frantic thoughts of failure. “You’d do anything to stay in the same room as me. To just be able to fucking look at me or get a shitty autograph, hm?”
“I would… yes.” Your heart racing, you tried to blink away the tears still prickling in your eyes, but they were persistent. “But if you want me to leave, I’ll… do that, too. I shouldn’t have come here like this in the first place…”
“You regret it?” Bakugou moved his hands back to his hips, his fingers resting against the pristine shape of his hips with such rugged and confident posture. You were so conflicted on your feelings, and that question only made your throat grow tight. Did you regret it? All your actions up to this point had gotten you here, alone in his room with him, and no matter what the interaction was or may end up being, just getting to be here was a dream come true.
But what would you do? Would you really do anything he asked of you? Anything? In truth, you didn’t think that you had the courage and you would just annoy him until he kicked you out. What would he even want from you in the first place? You weren’t innocent enough to not have noticed the bulge beneath the zipper of his shorts, pressing up into the fabric. Was this entire situation, having you cowering on the floor in front of him like this, actually turning him on? Did he… like you, then? Was he attracted to you?
“I asked you a question.” Bakugou snapped when you didn’t answer him, leaning forward a bit to glower down at you with that typical snarl.
“I don’t… I don’t regret it. I just don’t want to upset you.”
“Aw, don’t want to upset me, eh?” With a click of his tongue, Bakugou’s snarl stretched into a smirk. “Poor little stalker, scared to upset me. Don’t worry, babygirl. Just do what I ask, and you won’t upset me.”
“Really? You’re not upset?”
“Not at all, babe. But you have to do what I say. You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?” The condescending growl of his voice was lost to you, only able to latch on to the pet names and hope of getting back on his good side.
“Yes.”
“Because you’re not like those other girls. You're my number one fan. Aren’t you?”
A new burning of heat and tears flared up, unable to stop the happy smile on your lips. “Yes. Yes! I am! I love you so much-”
“Get on your knees.”
Smile faltering, you were confused by the demand, looking up at Bakugou through your gathered tears. “What?”
“Get on your fucking knees.” Bakugou snapped again, the gleam in his glare almost… sinister. Still, there was something in you that begged for you to comply, and just like your impulses earlier, you couldn’t ignore it. Squeezing the fabric of his shirt tightly in your hands, you slowly shifted yourself up onto your knees as demanded, though the space between him and the wall was limited. Worried about your face being too close to his crotch, you sat back mostly on your legs, but he was quick to correct you.
“All the way up on your knees.”
Nibbling at your bottom lip, you pushed yourself up to be kneeling, your eyes glancing and looking everywhere but at the crotch of his baggy blank punk shorts, which reached his knees and ended in tattered fabric. The chains on both hips rattled lightly as he shifted his weight to his other foot, and that slight sound pulled your eyes to look at them, and thus at his crotch. At this angle, you could truly see how strained he was, the form of his cock clearly visible. The heat in your cheeks grew fiercer just thinking about what was just a few inches from your nose, and what was worse, the smell of him was overwhelming all your senses. He must have just recently reapplied his spray after sweating like mad for hours on end, but even his natural scent was enticing.
“What are you looking at, babe?”
Bakugou’s voice broke you out of your stupor, bringing you to look up at his face. “Nothing… Just, well…” Your voice tapered off, unable to find it within you to ask him. He obviously had a boner, but what the hell did that mean?
“Open your mouth. Keep those pretty eyes on my face.” His commands had grown softer, as if he were purring at you to keep you compliant. Opening your mouth as told, you peered up at him through your lashes, tilting your head back a little. The way his smirk grew had your skin tingling, but that isn’t what had all your attention. Your focus was on his hips, listening to the rustling of fabric and watching the movement of his arms through your peripheral vision. “Good girl. Now stick out your tongue. And don’t move.”
Slowly, your tongue lolled out, and the low groan he gave in satisfaction of your obedience had you opening your mouth wider. As you sat there waiting for him, you could feel the saliva beginning to dribble down your chin and along the length of your tongue, gathering in a slick pool before dripping off the tip of your tongue to the floor.
Suddenly, you felt a hard and hot presence slap against your tongue, making you squeak and recoil back. Though, before you could get far, your hair was in Bakugou’s fist, yanking you back up into position and peering up at him in shocked fear. He was visibly agitated, but his smirk was still wide, teeth bared.
“What do you think you’re doing, slut? I said don’t move. You told me you’d do anything I say.”
Trembling now, you pulled your gaze from his to look at his hips, pressing your lips together tightly as you gazed upon his erect cock. As he held it steady with his free hand, you couldn’t help but take in every detail, from the girth and length, the prominent veins and ridges, and the frenum barbell piercing nestled just under the blushing head. It was truly the most attractive cock you had ever seen in your life, and a fire began to rage in your core as you realized that was what had just hit your tongue.
Bakugou’s cock… He… He wants me to suck him off? What if I’m not good enough… I shouldn’t!
You could feel the heat of your essence beginning to dribble down your thighs, your poor excuse for underwear and hose completely soaked through. You could feel the throbbing all the way into your stomach, and it was impossible to deny that you were the horniest you had ever been. But this isn’t what you had expected or wanted to do. Was it?
“That’s what you said, isn’t it?” Bakugou pulled your head a bit closer, giving you a few rough smacks to the cheek with his impressive cock. “You would do anything for me.” With your lips still tightly closed, he ran the tip of his cock across them, smearing his precum along your skin. “So be a good girl and give my cock a little kiss. Be sweet, now.”
Although the demand was embarrassing, the pressure of his grip on your hair and his cock literally at your lips made you feel like you truly didn’t have a choice. He was in control of all of this. He could do anything he wanted. He could get you arrested, even. You had to do what he said, not only for your own benefit, but because you adored him. So, you placed a tender kiss right beneath the head, your eyes fluttering closed. Abandoning the t-shirt in your hands, you reached up to softly caress his cock, using your grip to move it up to give you more access to the underside. Your kisses were quite timid at first, but as one lingered against the underside of his shaft, the pulsing you could feel against your lips made your body ache.
Eventually, your kisses became more passionate, even giving light suckles and little kitten licks, teasing the piercing and the sensitive head. Hearing him groan with the attention pulled your eyes up to look at him, a bit surprised to see that his cheeks were quite flushed, and his smirk had faded. Was he really enjoying this?
Bracing himself against the wall with his free hand, Bakugou only further crushed you with his overwhelming presence and dominance, making you pause in worry. “Good girl. Now open your fucking mouth.”
The instant your lips parted wide enough, Bakugou simultaneously pulled your head and pressed his hips forward, shoving his cock into your mouth, the tip stopping at the back of your tongue. Squeaking and groaning in surprise of the forced entry, you clutched on tightly to his thighs, only just having noticed that his shorts had fallen around his feet. His boxers had simply been pushed down out of the way, but the elastic kept them up on his hips for now. You were unable to move, his grip on your hair too tight to pull back. He didn’t want you to do the work?
“That’s it, baby. Keep that mouth nice and open for my cock. You don’t gag easily do you?” You could hear the feigned concern in the question, and the only answer you could give is a furrow of your brow, new tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “Oh well. Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
It was then that Bakugou began to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth slow and shallow. You were actually surprised that he started out so cautious, but you could tell that the pleasure was beginning to grow quickly. “Fuck babe, you’re such a good little slut for me.” Ever so slightly, he began to thrust faster and deeper, until the tip of his cock was hitting against the back of your throat. You were lucky that you didn’t have a strong gag reflex, as you knew that anyone who did would have already puked all over him. But you could take it. You could take it for him, to let him have his way with you just to stay with him a little longer.
Though, you were finding that it was difficult, breathing in through your nose and trying to distract yourself from the burning in your jaw. Each thrust had your nose touching his pelvis and his balls slapping against your chin, which was coated in drool that dripped freely. It was so difficult to handle him, in fact, that you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your cheeks, only further displacing your already ruined makeup from crying earlier. You were a mess already, but the fire within you didn’t falter. If not for needing to grip onto his thighs to keep you balanced, you would be touching yourself again, the craving for your own pleasure just as suffocating as the dick in your throat.
Still, your struggles were worth it. You got to watch Bakugou’s expression, his brow no longer furrowed in anger but in pleasure, his eyes glazed over with the undying need for release. His face was flushed and sweat was already beginning to drip down along his skin, his body still affected by the intense performance he hadn’t finished not even an hour ago. The way his body moved, muscles tensing and rolling beneath your grip on his thighs. He was so gorgeous.
You had expected him to finish in your mouth, but after some time of fucking your throat raw, he stopped, holding the back of your head as he dug his cock as deep in as he could. You groaned and whined from the pressure, wishing desperately for relief while pushing on his thighs. With his own groan and hiss of pleasure, Bakugou pulled out of your mouth slowly, his smirk returning as he took in the sight of you. “You should see yourself. Filthy. Keep your tongue out.” When he finally removed himself completely, you took in a deep breath, gasping and panting to try and recover from the brutality you had to endure. Your tongue, however, stayed out as he demanded, allowing him to rub the underside of his tip against it.
“You’re fuckin’ hot, you know that? So fucking sexy. I bet you have a nice tight little pussy, too.” After a few rough slaps of his cock against your tongue, he took a step back, stepping out of his shorts as he did so as well as his shoes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. “Stand the fuck up.”
Swallowing hard, you took the moment of getting to your feet to wipe your chin of the mess of liquids, but you didn’t get much time to steady yourself. Snatched by the arm, Bakugou dragged you over a few feet towards the couch, grabbing you once again by the hair and forcing you down over the armrest. The couch was quite tall, so with your upper body pressed into the cushions and your hips snuggly in place against the armrest, you could barely touch the floor with your tiptoes. It was another uncomfortable position, but you ignored the pressure on your belly as your ass was suddenly exposed to the cold air of the room, your skirt flipped up out of the way.
“Fuck you have a nice ass.” Gripping your backside with both hands firmly, Bakugou squeezed and spread you open, taking in the pleasant view. “What a fucking punk poser you are with these shitty fishnets. They don’t even do shit.” Digging his fingers into the holes along your crotch, he gave a rough yank, ripping the fabric open to give him easy access. “Holy fucking shit, you should see how wet you are, babygirl.”
You whimpered at the feeling of his thumb stroking along your sex, the slick that coated your skin giving him no resistance. You could feel it, all over your inner thighs and aching cunt, but now your favorite person in the entire world could see it, too. He could see how wet he made you, how getting tossed around by him made you feel.
I… I didn’t agree to all of this. I know it isn’t right. I didn’t want it to go this far, but… How can I stop him? Why would I stop him? He’s… I love him so much! I want him to touch me, even though I know I shouldn’t--
Your thoughts were cut off by your own gasp, your body tensing and legs bending at the knee involuntarily at the sudden pleasure that rocked through your body. You knew what it was, his tongue hot and eager against your clit as he ate you out. The sounds of him lapping at your cunt and grunting in delight at the taste of you had your mind spinning, the pleasure devouring your body. Not wanting to be heard by anyone outside, you moaned and gasped into the fabric of the couch cushion, digging your nails into it as you did everything you could to not writhe out of his grip.
You were so sensitive to his touch that you could feel everything, from his nails digging into your hips to the way his tongue piercing slid across your clit. It was as if he knew exactly how to use it to be able to drive you completely insane, the hard metal sending shocks of lightning through your body with each stroke and flick.
“Ba-Bakugou, ahh-!” You tugged and pulled at the couch cushion in your grip, digging the toes of your boots into the floor. “It’s too much! Wait--!”
“Too much? Don’t be such a fucking wimp. You’re my little slut, aren’t you? You can take anything I give you.” As he stood back up, you looked up at him over your shoulder, having to peek through your messy hair to see him. That wicked and excited smirk was back, and you were only able to watch as he gripped your ass in his hands, sliding his cock between your cheeks to coat himself in your essence. “And I know what you want me to give to you. You want my dick inside you, babygirl?”
Immediately, you stomach rolled nervously, eyes on the tip of his cock and the precum dribbling from it. You were on birth control, there wasn’t necessarily anything risky about that, but there was something else that pricked at the back of your mind. If you did this with him, then you knew that you could never settle for another man. You would want him forever, as you always had, but would you ever get a chance like this again? Would you ever even see him again after today?
It doesn’t matter… I’ll do it!
“Yes! Yes, Bakugou, I want you.” You were surprised as he leaned away from you for a moment, though what he was doing was quickly made clear as he came back into full view with a drumstick. The way that it was beaten and chipped told you that it was one he had used that performance, and the other was probably close by, set to be discarded or handed out to fans.
“And why do you want me?” Bakugou dug the stick into your hose, giving a sharp yank to further rip the delicate fabric and expose more of your ass to him fully. “Just because I’m your favorite of the band?”
“No!” You couldn’t help but become defensive. “I… I care about you more than that!” You bit down onto your bottom lip as he began to run the tip of the stick across your skin towards your cunt, mind racing with thoughts of what he was going to do with it. You could still feel and see his cock between your cheeks, hot and pulsing, and you were honestly surprised that he could hold out to tease you this long. Just seeing you like this, bent over and so submissive, was enough to keep him going long enough to torture you a bit.
“You love me? Even though I’ve slapped you, pulled your hair, and fucked your throat until you went hoarse? Even though I have your ass bent over the couch and haven’t given you any more than a few minutes of pleasure?” Suddenly, he brought the stick down hard onto your ass, making you yelp out and tremble beneath him. The pain was so good! You wanted that again, and you received it without having to ask, a moan slipping from your lips.
“Yes! I’ll love you no matter what you do to me! Always! I love it when you throw me around and use me like this! Please, use me more! I’m your little slut, Bakugou--” You were silenced as he leaned over you, his palm pressing into the side of your face and pushing the hair roughly away from obscuring your flushed and teary features. Now with your full attention, Bakugou smirked, narrowing his eyes at you.
“No, no, my pet. Call me by my name.”
The heat that rushed to your face made even his burning palms feel cool, trying to blink the tears away as they rushed down the side of your nose to soak into the couch. Was he being serious? He wanted you to call him by name… by his first name. Something that he never allowed anyone but those close to him to do, and you had seen him on more than one occasion snap at people when they did it. He was huge on respect and feeling dominant over others, so to him, his given name was sacred.
“Ka… Katsuki…” You couldn’t speak any louder than an airy whisper, though his reaction was enough to tell you that he enjoyed it. Smirk growing, Bakugou sat up from over your back, his fingers curling into your ruined hair as he began to rut his hips against you. His cock stroked slowly against your ass, his tip teasingly pressing into your cunt before slipping up back between your cheeks.
“Again.” The drumstick still in his free hand, he brought it down hard onto the already abused and welted cheek, right as your voice had begun to leave your lips.
“Ka-ah! Katsuki!” With another whack, your body instinctively tried to shift away from him, though all it did was off set his cock. His tip slipped into you, making you pause, both from the feeling and from the irritated growl that left his chest.
“What a naughty little bitch, trying to get me to fuck you before I say so.”
“N-no, it was just--”
“-- Well if you want it so fucking bad, I’ll give it to you!” Abandoning your hair and the drumstick, he gripped your hips tightly in both hands, sinking his cock into you with one quick snap of his hips. “I’ll show you who fucking owns you!”
You didn’t have time to think or respond as he began to fuck you, fast and hard. Already, the pleasure was overwhelming, rolling through your body like electricity. It was perfect, everything you had ever imagined and more. The way he filled you up to the absolute brim, not leaving a single inch of you untouched, had the coil in your core tightening so quickly that you couldn’t even think about how to restrain it. You were going to cum very quickly, and you had never wanted to so badly in your life.
“How does my cock feel inside you, slut?”
“G-good,” You struggled to choke out a response behind your moans, which squeaked with surprise as he picked up the pace. “It feels good!”
“You want to cum all over it, don’t you?”
“Yes!”
“Beg for it.”
At first, you couldn’t even comprehend what he was asking you, your mind growing hazy to everything but the pleasure. “I… please!” You reached back, clutching onto his hand tightly, digging your nails into his skin in hopes that it would keep him latched to you. “Please! Please let me cum, Katsuki! I want to cum all over your cock! I love it!”
When the pleasure stopped, all you could do was sit there in shock, the emptiness you felt as he pulled out of you making your stomach sink. Had you said the wrong thing? Before you could really ask him, you were grabbed by the elbows and lifted up off the couch, your body flipped so you were sitting on the armrest with your legs now loosely hooked around his hips. In the next moment, his strong arms were around your body, one hooked around your hips to pull them snug against his own while the other supported your upper body. What shocked you more than that was the fierceness of his lips against yours, kissing you with intense passion and aggressiveness that you couldn’t help but to give in.
Wrapping your arms around his torso, you moaned and gasped softly into the kiss, his hips once again rutting against yours to stroke his length against your clit. For a moment, things seemed to feel different than they had during this entire experience. It wasn’t as if he were using you anymore, doing everything entirely for his own benefit. Instead, his touch was attentive, caressing you and moving your body into position without force. Even the way he kissed you was quick to change, from dominating your mouth to a more tender sweetness. You didn’t ever want it to end, but you allowed it when he pulled away, gazing up into his piercing crimson gaze as he pressed his forehead against yours.
“I want to see that pretty face when you cum.” The growl against your lips was teetering on threatening, as if he were warning you to not even think about turning away or hiding your face in his shoulder. “I want to see how good my cock makes you feel, baby. So cum all over it like a good girl.” As he began to sink his cock into you slowly, you couldn’t control your reactions to it, Your eyes rolling back and fluttering closed as he bottomed out inside you, even biting down onto your bottom lip as you whined.
“Yes, Katsuki--” Your voice hitched as he began to thrust into you again, his cock reaching even deeper inside you that it had been before. “--Please watch my face… See how happy you make me!”
“That’s right, you slut. That’s because you belong to me, don’t you? You’d do anything for me.” As he fucked you, he relied on your grip on him to keep you up, both of his hands moving to grip your hips again. As the pleasure began to boil, you dug your nails into his back, your voice spiking as he became rougher with the added pain.
“Yes! Yes, anything! I’ll be your little slut forever, Katsuki! Just please don’t stop!” It was impossible to tear your eyes away from his even if you wanted to, but it was more than just the fact that they were intoxicating. He may have wanted to watch your face for the visual expressions of pleasure, but he didn’t realize that his demand to keep your eyes on him gave away more than he probably had expected to. There was no anger or frustration that you had seen before. Instead, he seemed absolutely overwhelmed with the pleasure himself, just as you were, and the flushing of his cheeks paired with his upwards furrowed brow gave him almost a… desperate look. Like he was pushing himself to make sure he was fucking you as well as he possibly could.
Was he feeling some self-consciousness about all of this, too? Or regret for pushing you to this, unwillingly at first? You didn’t know, and you knew in the end he wouldn’t tell you if you asked.
“Fucking hell, babygirl, your pussy is so fucking tight,” Bakugou pressed his forehead against yours again, wrapping his arms back around your waist to hold you closer, both to the edge of the armrest and his body. “You’re the best fuck I’ve had in months. I hope you’re ready for my cum all over that pretty face--”
“No!” You moved your arms to wrap around his neck instead, one hand pressing against the back of his head with fingers tangled in his hair. “Come inside me! Please, Katsuki, I want you to fill me up! It’s okay--” Your voice cracked with a cry of pleasure, your encouragement pushing him to fuck you harder and deeper.
“Then cum for me, bitch. Cum all over my cock.”
With that command, you couldn’t hold the coil still any longer. It shattered with his movements inside you, each rough hit of his tip against your cervix only prolonging your orgasm and sending wave after wave of harsh pleasure through your body. Trembling, you squeezed onto him tightly, clutching a fist full of his hair and kissing him roughly, moaning and sighing softly into the kiss as he didn’t give you a moment to breathe. Within moments after your climax, his thrusts became slower and erratic, before he was finally able to release.
Groaning and cursing against your lips, Bakugou kept his gaze locked with yours, not giving you any room to move or pull back as he came inside you. How hot it was coating your walls made you shiver, squeezing his hips with your thighs and pulling yourself in closer. It was an incredible high, and as you both came down from it together, you both loosened your grip on each other.
For a moment, you stayed connected, your head on his shoulder with your forehead pressed against his neck, able to feel his pulse against your skin and his chest heaving against yours. Had all of this really just happened? You were pressed up against your crush, his arms wrapped around you with one large hand stroking up and down your back softly. It was so strange compared to his aggressive demeanor just moments before. You knew that it should have made you happy, but instead, all it did was confuse you, and you felt a new wave of tears rush down your flushed cheeks.
Able to feel your tears run down his chest, Bakugou gave a click of his tongue, prying you off him with little pressure. In the same moment, he slipped his semi flaccid dick from within your still aching cunt, pulling his boxers back into place to cover himself. “Fucking crying again? Seriously?”
Steadying yourself on the armrest with your hands, you kept your gaze downcast, squeezing your legs together as you could feel his cum beginning to leak out. “I’m sorry, Bakugou, I just--”
“--Katsuki!”
His loud correction made you jump, looking up at his face in shock as he glowered down at you. His cheeks were still flushed red, but you were unsure if it was from the exertion of what you had just done or from something else. Reaching over, Bakugou wiped your cheeks roughly with his thumbs, before giving you a bump to the bottom of your chin, as if telling you to cheer up. “I already fucking told you, psycho fan. Katsuki.”
“Right. I… should I leave now?”
Unsure of what to do with yourself, you stared up at Bakugou expectantly, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. With another click of his tongue, Bakugou bent over and snatched the forgotten drum stick up off the floor, taking a few steps away towards the vanity that was neatly organized with what you assumed he wore during a performance. Picking up what looked like a marker, Bakugou wrote something on the thick end of the drumstick, before presenting it to you. “Here.”
Feeling your throat begin to close up as nerves began to take hold of you, it took you a moment to even find the courage to look at the stick, scared of what he might have written on it. Of course, it was probably just his autograph, which he had promised you at the beginning of all this. There wasn’t much time to look at it, though, before Bakugou huffed, shoving it against your chest and forcing you to grab it. “Take the damn thing!”
Body still feeling quite weak, you squeaked as you fell backwards onto the couch from his push, clutching the drumstick tightly. You could see the tips of Bakugou’s ears flush as he scoffed, pointing towards the door that led out into the hallway. It was… cute.
“Will you get out! Fuck, you’ve wasted enough of my time for now, go back to your friends!”
For now…?
Sitting up, you took a moment to fix your hair and wipe your face again, using the edge of your shirt to help you. “Do I look clean enough?”
“You look just as fucking hot as you did when I first walked in. Now you better fucking leave, and I expect you to do what I say.” Walking over towards his pile of laundry, Bakugou picked up the shirt he had caught you with, tossing it at you and hitting you in the face. “And take that shit with you! You like it so much; you can have it.”
Clutching both of your new prized possessions close to your chest, you hopped up like an excited child, smiling wide and squealing as you hopped towards the door. “Aahh, thank you, Katsuki! Thank you! I’m… sorry again for intruding…”
“Yeah, and I’m sorry for the welts on your ass. Now fuck off!” Bakugou barked again, trying to rush you out for whatever reason. Stepping outside, you couldn’t help but take a moment to lean back against the wall when the door shut, breathing heavily and blushing fiercely. In truth, you weren’t sure what to make of that entire endeavor, thrown into a confusing mix of shame, embarrassment, arousal, and longing. You shouldn’t have done that, and yet, you just didn’t want to leave his side.
“Got a little lost, didn’t ya, babe?”
The squeal that left your lips was quickly doused by the t-shirt in your hand, jumping and nearly slamming yourself back against the wall in shock of the unexpected voice. Standing across the hall was Kirishima, whose presence you were surprised you didn’t notice immediately. The mischievous smirk on his lips quickly widened into a pleasant grin, uncrossing his arms and pushing himself off the wall to stand up straight. Had he been waiting for you to come out?
“You skipped the bathroom, you know! It’s down that way. I decided to come look for you before we were forced to call security guards, but I guess Bakugou found you first.”
“A-ah, sorry! I… saw him go in his room and I just wanted an autograph.” Holding your treasures close to your chest, your stomach rolled nervously as Kirishima leaned in closer, his eyes locked on the visible part of the drumstick.
“Aahh, I get it! Bakugou can be kind of a jerk, I’m surprised! But uh… if you want to convince anyone else that you were just getting an autograph, you should really go to the bathroom. I’m sure Bakugou didn’t give you a mirror, but you look like you had a real good time.” You could hear the tone in his voice lower from friendly to flirtatious, and you quickly tried to fix your hair.
“H-he told me I looked fine!”
“To him you probably do. May I?” Still grinning with a friendly disposition, you glanced at both of Kirishima’s hands as he held them up in an offering of help, before nodding timidly. He began to run his rough fingers through your hair, fixing it back into a state of normalcy with a tender touch that was so opposite to what you had just experienced with Bakugou. “You’re cute. I can see why he was so into you right away.”
“That isn’t… normal for him?” Your eyes glanced over Kirishima’s exposed muscular arms and sides, the deep cut in the arms of his tank showing all the way to his hips. You thought you saw his smile turn sly out of the corner of your eye, but you couldn’t be sure.
“Nah sweetheart. Bakugou might be a lot of things, but he doesn’t go for random chicks.” Seemingly satisfied, Kirishima also used his thumbs to wipe your cheeks and under your eyes. “Such a messy thing.”
“Thank you, Kirishima… I’m… I’m really sorry for causing you trouble.” Your heartbeat grew heavier as the redhead in front of you didn’t step back, towering over you just as the blonde had. “I’ll go to the restroom and then... Back to the group.”
With a chuckle, Kirishima nodded, tapping the end of the drumstick a few times. “You do that! I’ll meet you back there, just going to have a few words with our drummer. Careful with this stuff, yeah? Someone might just try to take it.”
“I will…”
“Go on, then, scoot.” With a nudge, you were pushed forward down the hall gently, only taking a moment to look back at the pleasant smiling man behind you. He was so different from Bakugou and yet they were the closest friends in the band. You knew that Bakugou was going to tell him everything, and you could only hope that it was going to end up a positive conversation. You hated the thought of Kirishima spending the rest of the VIP visit looking at you in disgust, or even the possibility of him putting you down in front of everyone.
Flustered, you scurried down the hall into the bathroom, slipping into a stall. After pushing down what was left of your hoes and your drenched thong, you plopped to sit, relieving yourself as you held the t-shirt and drumstick close to your chest. Though, it dawned on you that you hadn’t even looked at what Bakugou had written on the stick, so growing curious, you held it with both hands and spun it slowly to look over every inch. The ridges, dents, and splints in the wood were marks of every beat Bakugou had played, a solid crack down the middle representing just how powerful he was.
In truth, you felt like that drumstick. You were always a splintered person, emotionally broken and splintered off from the world. And yet, Bakugou had touched you with his passion. But did that mean that you were truly broken now? Could you ever be used again by any other person, or would you snap into pieces the instant your heart tried to find its beat again?
Eyes tearing up, you tried to blink them away, carefully running your finger along the crack until it met with a smudge of black writing. Unlike what you expected, there was no autograph. Instead, the words “Call Me” were scribbled in the black ink, along with a series of numbers.
Is that… his cell phone number?! It’s different from what I had found… Those must have been fakes.
Reaching down into your boot, you pulled out your phone, having placed it there for safe keeping, though you were surprised it stayed in place the entire time in Bakugou’s room. Without an ounce of hesitation, you created his contact and started a message, sending it so quickly you didn’t even consider the consequences, though his words did ring in your ear loud enough to make you think he was right beside you.
“Now you better fucking leave, and I expect you to do what I say.”
He said to call him, but… texting is the same, right?
Me 10:45 pm: Katsuki?
Bakugou 10:47 pm: hey babygirl. ever been to an after party?
Rating: General Audiences
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: Gen
Fandom: Final Fantasy XV
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia & Noctis Lucis Caelum
Characters: Gladiolus Amicitia, Noctis Lucis Caelum, mention of Ignis and Prompto
Summary: The sky is crying
Read on ao3
The sky is crying. Maybe Gladio has read too many romance novels with flowery prose because that is all he can think as he stares out the Regalia’s window at the heavy rainfall. The crash of the rain and the roar of the engine are oppressive through the silence of the car’s interior. The sky is crying while the four of them remain silently broken, pretending that with enough time the glue holding their shattered pieces will actually mend them. But Gladio’s lived long enough and read enough stories to know that things don’t work that way, no matter how much you want them to. You might learn to live with it, but things cannot truly go back to the way they were, and you certainly will never fit together the way you once did.
They should talk about it. This is absolute truth, but he does not break the silence. Not for the hours-long drive, nor when they file into the hotel room. In silence, they ready themselves for bed and settle in for the night. They pair off, and although Gladio could speak volumes on why he needs to share a bed with Noctis tonight, he still holds his tongue, expressing his need with nothing but a squeeze to the prince’s shoulder.
His charge gives a small nod and climbs in beside him. They are back-to-back, and soon his face is pressing into his back and he can feel wetness. The sky is still crying, the sound pattering against the rooftop above them, but the silent crying behind him is what finally does him in. His chest aches, like something is pressing and twisting at his insides. It hurts. It hurts and before he knows it there is wetness on his cheeks as well. He’s glad it’s dark and he is faced away from the prince because he is supposed to be the strong one, the rock of their group. If he crumbles then there will be nothing left to shield them.
Noctis’ arms wrap around him and his face presses against his back more firmly. Gladio’s body shakes unconsciously and he wonders if he knows. Neither of them says anything, and neither of them acknowledges the other’s tears.
Gladio has no idea how long this lasts, but it feels like an eternity. At some point his hands grip at his prince’s arms, holding on tightly, as if doing so can protect him from whatever future is waiting for them.
Knowing Noctis, he is probably asleep by now, since his tears have stopped, but Gladio feels no closer to the edge of sleep. They have lost so much so suddenly. The sky is still crying even though he no longer is. Besides the patter of raindrops and quiet breathing, the room is silent. He does not expect anyone to hear him, but finally an entire day too late, he finds the words he needed, “We’ve lost so much, but I swear, I won’t let them take anything else from us. Not if I can help it.”
If you had asked Peter a year ago where he would be today, he might’ve said something along the lines of dead in an alley. Or maybe, on a lighter note, hanging out with the AcaDeca team and MJ. Or leading the Avengers! He certainly would not have said floating aimlessly in space.
They’ve been on the Milano for a little over six days... probably. Time is a weird concept. Especially when you have nothing but the never-ending black abyss out the window and an angry blue woman to keep you company. Though, when it comes to sleep, Peter knows the exact amount he’s gotten.
None.
He's tried, honestly! But his brain seems to have decided that sleep is no longer an option. Trauma can do that to someone. Peter thinks he should be used to it by now. What with losing his parents, Uncle Ben, and now… he should be used to it.
But he isn’t. He isn’t used to the nights that end with him screaming himself awake in a fit of tears. He isn’t used to Nebula shaking him from his daze. He isn’t used to the half an hour of shaking and sobbing with nobody to familiar to cling to. He isn’t used to the agonizing pain that takes over his body when his senses overload after crying.
He isn’t used to anything anymore.
The nightmares never change. They always begin on Titan. Always.
Tony always appears in front of him, then crumbles to dust as Peter clings to him. Because he can’t lose him too. He won’t. But then Tony is gone, and Peter has to scramble to keep his ment- his father’s ashes from blowing away. Just as Peter gathers them all to mourn, he’s gone.
Then somehow he’s back on Earth, outside of his and May’s apartment. As soon as he opens the door he kicks over a pile of dust. He kicks over his aunt. His Aunt May, the strong and beautiful woman that raised him when the world seemed determined to end them, reduced to a pile of ash on the carpet.
And, of course, just before he startles awake, Ben shows up. Never in his life had Peter ever seen Ben scream at someone. Now he sees it every night. He reminds Peter of what a disappointment he is. How Tony should be alive. How Peter should be dead. How it was Peter’s fault for not getting the gauntlet from Thanos.
Then, without fail, he wakes up and cries with the blue space assassin woman until he falls back into unconsciousness. Then it starts all over again.
Nebua, for being a space assassin, isn't nearly as scary as she says she is. She's helped him through his nightmares, cleaned up his wounds, and has always given him the better rations. Alternatively, he's tried helping her feel… alive. Less machine, more… being? It was obviously hard at first. She would instantly close herself off and move away from him. Telling him to “mind your own business, unless you like being headless”.
So, you might ask, how has a sixteen-year-old mutant earthling managed to humanize one of the most dangerous women in the entire galaxy? The answer is simple: Paper Football.
"Wraa!!" Nebula growls, her metal hand curling into a fist. Her other hand grips her water glass until it groans under the pressure.
Peter, who’s spider sense had spiked, smiles lightly and picks up the small paper triangle. "It's cool Ms. Nebula! This game is kind of hard. My friend Ned and I play this aaaall the time when we get bored. So I'm basically, like, an expert." He hands her the paper football again and positions his fingers in the shape of a field goal.
Nebula flicks the paper, but it veers to the right. She shows nearly no weakness, but folds and nervously bites her lip. Peter can see she’s expecting… something. Punishment? Probably. Honestly he isn’t too surprised, unfortunately, considering who her dad is. "I would like to try again." She mumbles.
Peter smiles a little wider and picks up the paper triangle. He quickly fixes one of the corners then hands it back to her. "Yeah go ahead!"
Nebula takes it, she nervously eyes Peter but quickly buries her nervousness. A new determination grows and she flicks it. It sails through the finger goal, and Peter could swear that her eyes grew 3x bigger. He lets out a surprised laugh and leans back with his arms up. "Oh my Thor! Ms. Nebula you won!"
It takes a second for her to process it, but once Nebula realizes what he’s said her mouth twitches up into a near smile. Though she never does smile, Peter can tell how happy she is when she finally lets out a breath. "This was… fun."
Peter rests his elbows on the table and moves his hands around excitedly as he speaks. "Yeah, it's really good to help pass the time! I’ve never played with someone as good as you! And I’ve played this, like, a whole bunch. Mr. Stark and I…” Peter pauses. The black pit in his chest suddenly grows larger, “We uhm.. used to play it. A lot."
Both of their smiles fade as the weight of Peter’s words set in. They sit in an awkward silence, each finding something else to look at, before Peter speaks up again. "Ms. Nebula… how long do you think we'll be here?"
Nebula shuts her eyes, refusing to look at him, and breathes sharply out her nose. "Do not call me Ms. Nebula. Also…” She sighs “ I am not sure. The fuel is running out, fast. One of the processors is acting up and… food is getting low."
Peter nods solemnly and turns to the window. Basically, they have two options. Either shoot straight to earth in a shitty ship and hope they don't die. Or go to the nearest planet and hope the aliens there aren't hostile. So, in all reality, they’re doomed. He runs his fingers through his curls and sighs. ‘Oh Thor, I so need a shower.’
He looks down at his web-shooters. He presses a small button and a little web-cartridge pops out. Peter puts a hand over his mouth and tries to hold back his tears. The ashes in the cartridge spin as he turns it in his fingers.'What would Mr. Stark do?'
——————————————————————————
If you had asked Peter three days ago where he would be today he probably would have said dying. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have been wrong.
Peter winces as he shifts against the wall. He takes a deep, bone rattling breath, and shuts his eyes. Never in a million years had he thought this is how he would go. He knew being Spiderman would most likely catch up to him someday. He’d bleed out in an alley or be kidnapped by some psycho. Which, now that he thinks about it, is pretty gruesome. Though, slowly fading out billions of miles from home in a spaceship with a blue robot woman isn’t much better. It sounds like something straight out of Star Wars. Ned would be so jealous.
Well, not of Peter dying. That’s kind of an issue. A big issue.
Though, he can’t say it was unexpected. Both he and Nebula knew he might not make it to Earth. When Nebula finally announced that the fuel had run out, as well as the food, he knew he was screwed. But now, as they float aimlessly through space, all he can think about is May.
He never did give her a proper goodbye all those days (weeks?) ago. If only he could hug her again, and smell her sweet honey scent, and tell her he loves her over and over until he passes out from lack of oxygen. And he will, as soon as they get home. If she’s even still around. If Peter even makes it that long. Suddenly, he gets an idea.
Peter drags his tongue across his cracked lips and gives a small sigh, then activates his nanite mask. He hasn’t activated it since… well, it’s been a while. So, as he focuses on the nanites forming over his face, it’s slightly startling when Karen speaks. “Hello Peter. Your vitals seem extremely low. Shall I engage in Tattletale Protocol?”
Peter bites his upper lip. There’s no tears to hold back anymore, so he can’t cry no matter how much he wants to. He’s been in so much agony that he doesn’t even remember when the tears just stopped flowing.
Ever since the shut down, every fiber in his bones had throbbed from malnutrition and hunger. Now his skin hangs limp where once youthful and strong muscles had been. Peter knows his healing can do nothing to help either. If anything, it’s making it worse. Though, with every stabbing pain, he’s reminded that the hole in his heart where he’d held Mr. Stark aches even more.
“No Karen,” he rattles out another shaky breath then continues, “I- I don’t think Mr. Stark will be able to ah… to answer right now. You know what would be really… really awesome though?”
The A.I. is silent for a moment then, in a somehow more solemn tone, “I can do anything you wish Peter. Please proceed.”
“Could you.. Could you please start a voice recording?”
“Of course Peter.” I takes a second, then a small flashing light appears in the array of holograms in front of his eyes. Peter licks his lips again and rests his head back against the wall.
“You may begin Peter.”
“Oh uhm.. okay... Hey May. I know you ah- you’re most likely searching the world for me right now. Making sure I’m not… you know.. gone. Well, I mean, that’s as long as you’re still around I guess. If you find this then, um, just know that I love you. So much. And uhm.. Please tell Ned that I love him too… he- he’s my best friend and I wouldn’t be here without him. I love you both so.. So much. More than anything. Oh! And MJ too. I never got to tell her to her face but… I love her too. Anyways… I guess this is goodbye.” Peter pauses and takes another rattled breath. “When I drift off, I’ll think of you guys. It’s always you guys.”
Peter sniffles. As he moves to sit up a cough racks his small frame. His back slams against the wall as he tries to sit up. “Karen uh… can you- can you end it? The um… the recording.”
The blinking light suddenly disappears and the mask retracts. Peter’s vision grows spotty while his eyes readjust to the dim emergency lights. His starts swimming as the world tips sideways, and then, he’s floating. Like a puppet having its strings cut, he lists sideways limplessly. Before he can hit the ground, metallic hands gently catch him by the shoulders. He’s propped back upright and a cold finger brushes a curl away from his eyes. His vision clears slightly and Nebula’s worried face softens as she realizes he recognizes her..
She gives him a small squeeze on the shoulder, and smiles. “It is okay Peter. I know you’re tired.”
Peter gives her the best smile he can muster. She runs a hand through his hair and then puts her arms under him. She easily lifts him into the air and carries him across the ship. Nebula gently places him in Quill’s Captain Chair and makes sure he’s comfortable. As soon as she is satisfied, she goes back to the main area. Nebula begins working on… who knows what. Though, honestly, Peter really couldn’t care less.
Everything just feels… floaty. Is that a word? FlOatyyy. It’s a funny word.
His eyes are floaty now too. So, so floaty…
They’re floating away! Up and up… and up. They’re going somewhere dark.
Peter really doesn’t like the dark.
Maybe the bright lady in the window can save his eyes before they float away. He really needs his eyes back…
tonight in writing fanfic: I give a fictional character all my very real frustrations about the apartment rental market. (at least he gets falling in love out of the deal)
It’s been awhile since I’ve actually gotten on tumblr, and I apologize to those of you who are following me! If you’re a new follower and I haven’t followed you back yet, I apologize, I’ll get on that ASAP.
But I just wanted to make this quick note to say that I have a Fanfiction.net account, and for those who don’t know what that is, you can post stories, one shots, etc, that you’ve written, and you can also read and review stories that other people have posted.
I’m currently in the process of writing a story called Don’t Blame Me, Don’t Hate Me. It involves Zack Merrick of All Time Low and his girlfriend, Jordin. It follows their journey though Jordin’s pregnancy as the time gets closer to do the due date.
If you would like to check it out, here’s the link to my profile, and the links to the chapters that I have written so far will also be published.
if you do read it, and you like it, feel free to write me a review either on my profile, or send me a message on here! I will try to post new chapters and update as often as I can. Whenever I post a new chapter, I will post the link on here, and eventually when I finish the story, I will create a master post with all the links to the chapters, so you’ll be able to find them easily.
Thank you, and I hope you guys like my story so far! :D
