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sprytesukii · 1 month

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you know me (better than i know myself)

bakugou katsuki x reader

katsuki is hopelessly in love with his best friend until you waltz into his life and warp it beyond his recognition.

rating: mature, 18+, MDNI

wc : 10.4k (holy fuck)

tags : mild to heavy angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), afab!reader, unrequited love (not between reader and kats), depictions of mild depression, genderfluid!denki, queer!katsuki, reader has a quirk, oral (reader receiving), p-in-v intercourse, unprotected intercourse (wrap it b4 u tap it pls!), soft katsuki, and they were roommates :0, Not Beta Read, i think that’s it T^T

an: this is the first thing i’ve genuinely written in over a year and jesus it was like i was possessed writing it LMFAO incredibly self indulgent and i had a lot of fun writing it! i hope you guys enjoy it (pls rb n leave feedback pls pls pls)

read on ao3

the warm light of the coffee table lamp casts a beautiful shadow across the planes of eijirou’s face — his sharp, angular nose, smooth cheekbones, plush lips that form a sheepish smile — and katsuki can’t even appreciate it, not with the absolute bullshit that pours from his best friend’s lips.

“the fuck you mean, you’re moving out?”

the words come out a lot harsher than katsuki intends, but he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty, not even when kiri’s face screws up in clear disappointment.

“well, uh, i told you, this new place is closer to my agency so it makes more sense. the commute’ll be much shorter and, uh…” he trails off then, a pretty pink blush spreading across his nose, highlighting the small spattering of freckles that katsuki is certain he’s the only one who’s ever noticed, a broiling heat setting alight in his stomach.

he feels like he might die.

“and.. kaito finally asked me to move in with him.”

there it is. fuckin’ kaito.

katsuki is far from an idiot — people call him a lot of names (brash, inconsiderate, a righteous asshole), but never dumb. they couldn’t unless they were outright lying.

part of what makes katsuki so intelligent is his observance.

of course he’s noticed eijirou’s late nights, his suspicious absences at group get togethers, the sweet smiles he makes as he taps at his phone screen, the fucking hickies.

bakugou katsuki is not stupid. he’s incredibly observant. especially when it comes to the massive crush he’s been harboring on his best friend for the last three years.

he’s not entirely sure when his reluctant tolerance of the bright redhead shifted to something more but he knows he’s been viciously, painfully pining over him day in and day out in the weeks (months, years) since.

and it’s not like kirishima hasn’t had partners before. he’s nearly impossible to resist with his intense attentiveness, his willingness to go above and beyond for those close to him, not to mention his insane physique, built from long hours out on the field and in the gym.

it’s no wonder katsuki has been in love with him for as long as he has been — eijirou is perfect.

perfectly imperfect, of course. he gets upset when katsuki sorts his clothes for him (“i’m an adult, okay? it makes me feel like you’re parenting me, man.”) or when he lectures him on his diet, or when he shuts him out after being friends for so long (when his feelings become too much to handle), but eijirou’s the only one who’s stayed.

katsuki has tried flings and a few more serious relationships but those have ended quickly because he’s just too much.

too loud. too frustrating. too closed off. too him.

but not for eijirou. never for eijirou.

that’s why when kiri mentioned he was talking to this new guy, he brushed it off. it would be like all the others who would eventually break it off because of the long hours at work or eijirou’s boundless enthusiasm and katsuki would be there to pick the sopping wet, heartbroken kiri off the ground and put him back together. they didn’t deserve him anyway.

but this kaito? apparently katsuki’s eagerness to ignore eijirou’s flings made him blind to what was happening — eiji wasn’t his anymore.

he’s moving out.

he’ll be gone forever.

subconsciously, katsuki realizes he’s been silent for far too long and that eijirou’s face has lost the hurt and is now painted with concern and confusion.

fuck, even now, he’s concerned. he cares so so much, except in the way katsuki craves.

“uh,” kirishima’s gentle voice breaks him from his thoughts, a big hand finding its way to katsuki’s knee, “are you okay dude?”

the touch sears through the expensive black joggers katsuki is wearing and he flinches so hard, he jostles the coffee table to his side. he barely sees kirishima’s brows furrow as he launches himself to standing, the telltale burn behind his eyes signaling the incoming wave of tears.

he can’t see katsuki like this, he fucking can’t.

katsuki marches to the kitchen, opening up the fridge and blankly staring into it while he tries to will the water back into his face and still the turmoil burning in his chest.

it feels like he’s aflame, like he’s suffocating, drowning.

he can hear kirishima’s steps behind him but thankfully stopping a reasonable distance away as he calls his name again, desperation coloring the word.

fuck.

with everything he has in him, katsuki grabs a random bottle from the refrigerator (a smoothie eijirou made for him with far too much kale and too little milk and a little note attached with his name and a smiley face. he’s gonna be sick.) and turns to face him, a strained, shaky grimace painting his lips.

“that’s-“ his voice cracks hard and he desperately clears his throat, blinking hard when he sees eijirou reach out for him and stop. “that’s fuckin’— that’s great. ‘m happy for you.”

the words feel like glass inching their way out of his throat and while he knows he sounds anything but, the words seem to do the trick, kirishima’s face lighting up like a fucking christmas tree.

“that means so much to me, man!” this time, he doesn’t stop himself from wrapping katsuki up in a hug, the full body contact sending a wracking shiver through his body. “and don’t worry! we’ll still hang out all the time and i’ll — yes! — finally be able to introduce you to kaito — you’re gonna love him, and-“

katsuki has to tune him out, if just to keep a hold on his sanity because otherwise, he’s gonna break.

he keeps it together through the rest of the conversation about kaito, tuning in only to give time appropriate grunts and hums while pretending like his entire world isn’t imploding in on itself.

he keeps it together, miraculously, as kirishima packs up his things, the evidence of their entwined lives for the past five years disappearing into cardboard boxes over the span of a few weeks.

he even keeps it together when he meets kaito on the move out date, even if it’s just barely. kaito is handsome — tall, taller than katsuki, with windswept brown hair, bright brown eyes and a dimple in his left cheek. if he wasn’t so fucking in love with eiji, he wouldn’t mind taking a piece out of him, but as it were, the sight of kaito makes him genuinely sick to his stomach.

it’s even worse that kaito is so nice. his quirk is even nicer — some nature type that makes it impossible for plants to die when touched by him. they turn to him like he’s the fucking sun and eiji does too.

by the time all kirishima’s stuff is packed up in the back of kaito’s truck, bile is burning at the back of katsuki’s throat as he says his final goodbye to kiri in the way of a bone crushing hug that doesn’t last as long as he wishes, as he craves.

kiri sends him a blinding smile as he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck, looking all too at home against the worn blue leather seats.

it’s now when katsuki wishes he was a little less observant because the hand kaito gently places on kirishima’s thigh and the subsequent full body blush makes him sick.

he waits on the curb the appropriate amount of time as the pair drive away before racing back into his building, up the stairs, into his unit and straight to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet and heaving, chills wracking his body despite the sweat on his brow.

nothing comes out (praise whoever above because katsuki hates vomiting) and he slumps against the porcelain, resting his heated skin against the toilet seat.

he thought… fuck, katsuki has no idea what he thought, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. he feels a little like he’s dying and lot like he’ll never be okay again. that kirishima walked out with his heart and all he’ll be for the rest of his life is a walking husk of a human being.

a wave of nausea overtakes him again and he debates leaning back over the toilet, but exhaustion overwhelms him and he falls asleep against the wall of his bathroom, sweaty, sick, and heartbroken.

(the next morning, he wakes up to a pounding headache and two texts from eijirou.

he drinks a shit ton of water first and pops an advil before opening the messages.

EIJI (18:21) : just got to kaito’s! dude it’s so nice i can’t believe ill be living here now ><

katsuki has to take a deep breath to fight against the wave of pain that hits him right in the gut, but he keeps reading, the second text simultaneously warming him and twisting the knife.

EIJI (18:25) : i’m gonna miss you so much kats T^T so weird living without you

he stares at the message until his vision swims before liking the second message and turning off his phone, tossing it onto the couch and trudging to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.)

the next few weeks prove to be incredibly difficult.

a new case is brought to best jeanist’s desk and as the best sidekick at the agency, he’s placed in charge of heading the search and capture of an elusive invisibility quirk villain.

the days are long and exhausting, and more often than not, he doesn’t even have time to miss kirishima or notice his things missing from the apartment — he gets home, makes a barebones meal and collapses on the couch for what feels like a four hour nap until he has to turn back around and do it all over again.

it’s sustainable until it isn’t.

a few too many missed meals and restless hours of sleep has him passing out in a morning briefing, prompting best jeanist to send him home for a mandatory two week “vacation.”

it’s a prison sentence, is what it is.

at home, there’s nothing to distract him from the utter lack of kirishima, from the idea that the one person who has seen all of him and loved him anyway has left.

most days it’s too much to bear, so instead, he sleeps.

the usual tidiness of his space slowly deteriorates as he wastes away, waking only to scarf down whatever is left in his refrigerator before going right back to bed.

his friends text him often — hanta, denki, even fuckin’ hitoshi — but he ignores them all. the texts from kirishima are the hardest to delete, all concerned words and pleas for them to just talk, but he does it anyway.

it’s better this way, he tells himself. this way, no one else is dragged down by his self pity.

izuku ends up being the one to break the streak on day nine of radio silence.

a knock resounds at his door and he ignores it, pulling his blankets high above his mussed blonde hair, effectively hiding him from view as he hopes whoever is there spontaneously combusts or, better yet, just leaves.

when the knocks stop, he believes the latter has just occurred and he sighs in relief, completely missing the sound of metal creaking and his doorknob falling to the ground.

he’s debating on taking another melatonin to find the sweet release of sleep once more when his bedroom door opens up and he startles, launching up out of bed, hands and quirk at the ready to destroy the intruder, but he’s slow, too slow.

izuku is on him in a moment, pinning him to the bed and disregarding his gnashing teeth and cursing to look him over with a detached gaze.

“katsuki,” he says, voice firm in effectively shutting him up, despite the way he wriggles for freedom (so ineffectively, it’s embarrassing), “you look like dogshit.”

a harsh bark of laughter escapes katsuki’s throat and even from his angle where he’s pressed into his pillows, he sees izuku’s expression soften.

“you’ve lost your tact, deku,” he responds, his words gravelly from disuse. izuku scoffs but lets him up, taking a step over a pile of clothes on the ground to lean against the desk opposite of the bed.

with his newfound freedom, katsuki sits up, absentmindedly rubbing his now sore shoulder, the pain oddly grounding. izuku watches the motion with the intense focus he’s carried throughout his entire life, though he’s a far cry from the boy who used to break his bones and cry over injured birds.

now, he’s built like a brick house, forest green curls tapered into a flattering modern undercut, the fat from his cheeks transforming into something more chiseled and adult. his eyes aren’t as soft either — they’re tired and, as he looks at katsuki’s form, tinged with worry.

“where have you been? no one has heard from you in a week.”

katsuki rolls his eyes, looking away from the gaze that pins him, the gaze he tried so hard to get to look at him without fear. there isn’t a hint of fear in them now, but katsuki is afraid there’ll be disappointment and that’s almost worse.

“none of your fuckin’ business,” he grunts out and he immediately knows it was the wrong response. besides eijirou, izuku knows him the best and after all they’ve been through, he doesn’t deserve this.

he never deserved any of it.

with that thought spinning around in his head, katsuki rubs a hand over his face with a quiet curse, leaning back against the headboard.

“fuck, i’m sorry,” it comes out as a mutter, but its effect on izuku is instantaneous. the previous hardness of his expression melts and he moves closer, his bushy brows furrowing together. katsuki can barely look at him but he does anyway, he makes himself. izuku deserves that much (he deserves so much more but one day at a time).

“we’re just worried about you,” izuku says quietly but without pity. never pity. “what’s going on?”

maybe it’s the way izuku’s freckled face reminds him far too much of eijirou’s own spattering of constellations or maybe it’s the fact katsuki hasn’t eaten in over fifteen hours, but he shatters in that moment, crystal tears filling up carmine eyes.

if izuku is startled at katsuki’s sudden change of emotions, he doesn’t show it, instead moving to envelop katsuki in his arms, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder and let go.

katsuki tells him everything and by the end of it, his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and his eyes are puffy and red, but he feels better than he did all week.

izuku just looks thoughtful from his place sitting near the end of katsuki’s bed, the pair parting somewhere in between katsuki’s admission of throwing up when seeing kaito and kirishima together and his accidental confession of stealing one of eijirou’s hoodies from one of the boxes (it sits right under his pillow, but izuku doesn’t need to know that).

“i’m really sorry, katsuki. that fucking sucks,” izuku ends up saying and katsuki’s initial reaction is anger. he spills his heart and guts out to izuku and all he gets is that sucks? but when he opens his mouth to give deku a piece of his mind, he realizes that it does suck. it sucks royal ass and there’s nothing he or izuku can do to fix it - at least not yet - but the acknowledgment, without any attempt to give advice or make everything better, does wonders for katsuki.

he pushes out a watery laugh, his lip ticking up into a smile - for the first time in weeks - and izuku lights up a little. “yeah. it really fuckin’ does.”

the smile izuku sends back is blinding and for the one thousandth time, katsuki is reminded why the symbol of peace is just that.

they talk for a little while longer before izuku forces katsuki into the shower. he takes a long time, letting the scalding hot water turn cold before he emerges to find that his childhood best friend has started cleaning up the mess that has become of his apartment.

katsuki watches on for a moment until izuku raises an eyebrow at him and offers him a trash bag which he takes wordlessly, a wave of affection crashing over him so quickly tears come to his eyes. he blinks them away but he doesn’t miss the knowing smile izuku sends his way.

the pair work together in relative silence until the apartment is spotless and katsuki’s stomach is grumbling something fierce. izuku makes his way to the fridge but is met with nothing but a half carton of eggs and a rotting smoothie in the far corner, a sticky note attached to the lid. he fixes katsuki with a small, sad smile before digging through his drawers for a takeout menu.

when the food arrives, katsuki finishes it in record time and he can’t tell if it’s the fact they remembered to make it extra spicy or if it’s because he literally can’t remember the last time he had an actual meal, but it’s the best thing he’s eaten in a long time.

after they finish, izuku turns on the television and they both spend the evening shit talking a d-list hero film until they fall asleep on the couch, bodies slumped against one another, holding each other up.

—

that night seems to have knocked something loose in katsuki because the next morning, he wakes with his first alarm and heads to the gym for the first time since his mandatory vacation. by the end of it, his arms are burning from quirk overuse and he’s completely wiped, but he feels more like himself than he has in ages.

he finally texts his friends back (barring one) and they greet him back with high levels of enthusiasm and concern. it feels good to be received back into the fold with the love he’d thought he’d lost, his cheeks hurting with how much he’s smiling as the messages roll in.

katsuki finishes out his sentence and goes back to work on the fourteenth day with an earnest apology to best jeanist and a new lead on the villain after pouring over the case files in between hyperintensive workouts at the gym. best jeanist is quietly impressed, but the squeeze to the shoulder he gives katsuki tells him he was more worried about him than he let on.

the next few weeks pass in a blur, but this time it’s more pleasant. he watches shitty movies with izuku, deletes instagram when he sees a photo of kaito and kirishima on holiday in america, starts attending a pottery class on the weekends he has off with mina and denki, continues to ignore the texts from eijirou that are becoming more and more infrequent as time goes on, smokes with hanta and shinsou one evening and laughs harder than he ever has, and life feels like it’s slowly gaining its footing once again.

he realizes three months after kirishima had moved out that he should probably start looking for a new roommate or downgrade to something more reasonable. he seriously considers the latter, but when he looks at the space he cultivated right after he graduated from ua, he realizes he can’t quite give the place up.

he posts an ad on craigslist that night.

the next time the group goes drinking (kirishima is suspiciously absent, despite his reentry into the country a few days prior — mina mentioned it), katsuki brings up his roommate problem and denki latches on, his cheeks pleasantly flushed from the wine he’s been sipping on.

“oh, oh! i know - i know the perrrrfeeccttt roommate for you,” he slurs, toying with the earring dangling from his ear and fixing his excited gaze on katsuki’s face. “they’re like.. the besttt, dude, you’d - you’d love them.”

the words are vague, but when katsuki opens up his mouth to ask for more details, denki’s eyes widen and he rushes off to the bathroom, a hand over his mouth, nearly tripping over the his platform shoes and maxi skirt.

the topic of the roommate is quickly forgotten then, but it resurfaces a few days later at pottery class.

katsuki is glaring holes into the side of his slightly lopsided vase on the pottery wheel, internally going through the steps to see where he went wrong. denki to the left of him laughs and chatters as he makes his, frankly, hideous ceramic, the clay warped beyond recognition.

something in his one-sided conversation brings his attention to katsuki who’s startled at the sound of his name coming from denki’s mouth.

“yo, you still looking for a roommate?” he asks, tilting his head as a strand of hair falls from the lengthening ponytail at the back of his head. without alcohol in his system, denki looks a little more hesitant to be approaching this topic, but does so when he isn’t met with a howitzer to the face.

the group doesn’t know much of anything, just that kirishima and katsuki aren’t talking, so they tend to tread lightly around the subject. katsuki appreciates it, genuinely, but he’s not going to shatter at the sound of eijirou’s name - not anymore. it hurts still, of course, but the pain has dulled to a steady hum that he can ignore if he tries hard enough.

“yeah,” he grunts, turning his eyes back at his vase. “why? you got someone in mind?”

denki grins, showing off the lightning tooth gems on his canine. “hell yeah! i’ll give you their number — they teach the watercolor class here on tuesdays and they’re so cool.”

he speaks about you with obvious adoration and katsuki belatedly wonders if the two of you are dating, but doesn’t voice this curiousity, instead wordlessly handing denki his phone to put in your contact as “ROOMIE” with what feels like a hundred paint emojis after it. katsuki smiles at his friend’s antics and can’t quite bring himself to change it.

the colorful contact remains untouched for about another week until he gets a rent notice and remembers the little paint palettes in his phone.

in the middle of his morning workout, he taps out a quick text to you, before tossing his phone to the side and promptly forgetting about it.

katsuki [09:27] : Hey. I’m Bakugou. Denki gave me your number. I’m looking for a roommate. You interested?

ROOMIE [10:16] : oh hey yeah i’m interested

ROOMIE [10:17] : do you want 2 meet td

ROOMIE [10:17] : i’m at the cafe on 5th n cherry

ROOMIE [10:17] : in the back

ROOMIE [10:19] : i’ll b here 4 a while

ROOMIE [10:19] : just come whenever

katsuki only sees the message at the end of his workout a half hour later. the number of messages in a row and less than ideal grammar makes him turn up his nose but he quickly taps out an affirmative, before dapping izuku up and heading to the showers.

he makes it to the cafe twenty minutes later, scanning the place to see what he assumes is you tucked away in the back corner, your table full with books, papers, paints, your laptop and at least four empty cups of coffee.

katsuki raises an eyebrow at the sight but walks over anyway, telling himself he’s doing denki a favor by meeting someone he thinks so highly of so he won’t feel too bad when he tells him it’s not going to work out.

you don’t look up when he stops at your table, too occupied with the piece of art in front of you, your face twisted up in intense concentration.

you’re quite pretty, he notes subconsciously, the hard set of your eyes and one track focus reminding him an awful lot of himself when he’s swept into a difficult case. your complete unawareness gives him more time to take you in, though, so he can’t even bring himself to be too annoyed.

you’re wearing a bright yellow chargebolt hoodie that clashes terribly with your garishly pink acid queen baggy sweatpants. a pair of cellophane socks cover your feet where they’re stretched out in the seat across from you and your shoes (made to look like the red ones from deku’s costume, jesus christ) sit haphazardly beneath the table, empty.

it’s such a bizarre sight, katsuki almost laughs — almost — but he doesn’t, instead opting to knock your feet off the chair opposite you so he can sit down.

“a big fan of heroes, huh?” he asks, the action coupled with his words startling you so bad, your knees hit the underside of the table, threatening to upend all the precariously balanced objects decorating the surface.

you look angry at first before you realize who it is and once you do, you just look relieved. it’s an unusual reaction, one katsuki rarely gets from anyone who isn’t actively in danger, especially strangers.

“you scared the absolute shit out of me,” you say tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face and sighing. katsuki watches you recognize your own impoliteness in real time, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips.

pretty.

“fuck, sorry,” you extend a paint splotched hand to him and he takes it, shaking it firmly before it falls back to his side, fingers tingling. “i get super into shit and completely forget where i am. kami gets onto me about it all the time. says i’m prime villain bait or some shit. i think he’s saying it most of the time to freak me out, but he might actually be right. don’t ever tell him i said that though.”

katsuki can’t help but stare at you as you ramble at him with the familiarity of someone who’s known him for months, not just a few minutes. it’s uncomfortable in a strangely nice way and he can feel his muscles loosen as the nerves melt away.

“aw fuck, i’m sorry again. i didn’t introduce myself.”

you give him your name, offering your hand out for him to shake once more which he does with an amused look painting his expression. you don’t seem to notice, your attention being grabbed by the piece in front of you again.

“i’m bakugou,” he offers after a moment of silence. you don’t even look up when you respond.

“i know. you sent me that text, remember? also you’re like, super fucking famous, dynamight,” you look up at him through your lashes, teasing, and heat unexpectedly blooms on the back of his neck.

what the fuck?

in a bid to gain back control of the conversation (and himself) katsuki asks, “what’re you workin’ on? dunceface said you’re a painter or some shit.”

your nose crinkles at the moniker, but you don’t say anything about it, instead turning the sketchbook around for katsuki to look at it.

the piece is stunning, but it’s visceral and he can’t help but lean back a little when looking at it, stomach dropping.

a deer lays on the ground, gutted, blood, guts and viscera pouring out of its abdomen as a figure just out of frame reaches inside and pulls out its heart.

katsuki is disgusted but intrigued and that feeling only amplifies when you press a finger to the painting and activate your quirk.

suddenly, the hand in the painting moves so realistically he flinches — he can hear the deer’s heart beat, can hear the way the blood trickles through the blades of grass, can smell the coppery tang and can feel the rush of spring wind blowing past his face.

it’s like he’s there, in the piece, and he feels both a little sick and also so alive.

“holy fuck,” he whispers, shivering, and you laugh, deactivating your quirk, bringing him back to the real world. the sounds of the cafe flood in, replacing the smell of blood and spring fields with coffee and loose tea leaves. he shakes his head, eyes a little blown when they look at you.

your expression is playfully amused as you bring your sketchbook closer to your person, resting your head on the palm of your hand.

“sorry,” you offer, but you don’t sound very sorry at all, “should’ve asked before i used my quirk on you. not everyone likes that shit.”

the words are so nonchalant but you look like you’re poised to watch him get up and leave, never looking back. katsuki doesn’t think he could leave if he tried.

“nah,” his voice feels raw so he tries to clear it but the feeling doesn’t go away. “you’re good. just surprised me, ‘s all.”

your mouth parts in muted surprise and you tilt your head, appraising him like you’re seeing him for the first time. katsuki feels surprisingly bare as you study him, but he doesn’t drop his eye contact, despite the heavy pounding of his heart from your intensity.

the pair of you sit in silence like that for a moment or two longer before you break it, asking him if he wants something to drink. before he can tell you he doesn’t drink coffee though, you flag down the waiter, ask for a hot cup of tea (“darjeeling or oolong,” you ask the waiter, not even sparing katsuki another glance, “he doesn’t look like he fucks with green tea.” it’s true. he doesn’t. his heart does a stutter step in his chest.) and when it arrives to the table, katsuki asks you to move in with him.

you agree.

—

the move in process is so quick and easy that when it’s done, it feels like you’ve been living there for years.

your belongings integrate seamlessly into his own. your books about art history and watercolor technique find their way onto his bookshelves filled with classic japanese literature and hero history.

(he comes home one day to see you propped up on the couch with a thick book on the origin of quirks and heroism in japan that you stole borrowed from his collection. he just cocks his head at you when you meet his gaze and you shrug.

“i’m not japanese, i don’t know any of this shit,” you say in way of an explanation. “besides, this is important to you. i wanna learn.”

you turn back to your book like you didn’t just completely shake the foundation of katsuki’s world for a moment and he stumbles off to the kitchen, heat burning at the tips of his ears.)

your plants find their way on every windowsill and while, once upon a time, it would’ve made him think of kaito and that sick, curling jealousy would wrap around his chest and squeeze, now? it just makes him think of you.

(it helps you can’t really keep them alive so nearly every other week the two of you are replanting something new in the pots and vases katsuki makes in pottery class.)

your favorite foods join his in the refrigerator and the two of you take your meals together more often than not. katsuki cooks and you clean, either eating on the couch while watching a documentary or at the dining room table as you talk and talk and talk.

(the first time katsuki misses dinner, you wait up for him, even forgoing your own meal to eat with him when he returns at 2 in the morning.

“don’t do that shit again,” he grumbles when he finds out what you’ve done, his scarlet eyes piercing your own. you shrug, unafraid, tired eyes trailing lazily over his tank top clad form.

“don’t tell me what to do,” you retort after a moment, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “i like eating with you.”

your honesty, unabashed and loud, always bowls him over and he has to take a sip of his ice water to feel steady again.)

the relationship between the two of you is easy, for once, and katsuki finds himself looking forward to coming home, to you and your witty comments, sharp intelligence, and your uncanny ability to see right through him.

he swears it must be a hidden quirk, the way you seem to just know — know what he wants and needs without even asking and your accuracy rate is pretty much unbeatable.

after a particularly bad mission where the property damage is unusually high and the civilian casualties match, the leading hero news journalist puts out a scathing piece about him, sending him into an emotional spiral.

you find him that afternoon, curled up in bed, staring at the window blankly. you crawl up in bed beside him and you don’t speak, don’t offer him coddling words of “everything’s gonna be okay,” or “you did the best you could,” because if that was katuski’s best, he doesn’t fucking deserve to be a hero. not at all.

but no, you don’t offer him empty words of placation. instead, you brush a lock of his hair off of his forehead and look at him with that all-seeing gaze, your expression neither soft nor hard, but understanding.

“you’re not gonna let that shit happen again, right?” you ask, tilting your head. katsuki shakes his head vehemently, the mere notion of the same amount of dead bodies on his watch sending a fire through his chest as he sits up.

“fuck no.”

“good. now come here, i painted something new and i need to see if i get ‘good job’ or ‘holy fuck that’s shitty’ eyebrows from you.”

and that’s that.

you’ve even given him a nickname and it inexplicably makes his skin feel tight, like he needs to tear it off and show you, like it’s a display of how you make him feel.

it’s a lazy sunday afternoon, one he’s required to take off by best jeanist, and he’s spent it next to you on the couch, listening to a few of your records while you paint a forest scene, a skittish doe front and center with rivulets of water streaming from beneath it.

occasionally, you’ll activate your quirk and katsuki can suddenly hear birds chirping and the creak of the wood before he’s back in your cramped flat, the sounds of city sounding below.

it’s jarring and yet, comforting, both your presence and the quirk, in a way that still doesn’t make sense to him yet.

“bambi, are you even listening to me?” the term of what he assumes is endearment startles him out of his thoughts and he eyes dart to yours, an amused expression on your your brow.

“who the fuck are you callin’ bambi?” in his shock, he can hardly conjure up the ability to sound pissed, confusion instead hijacking his words, making them come out soft and gruff.

“you, idiot,” you reply, like it makes all the sense in the world. “you’re like a deer to me. something in you is skittish, afraid and yet, you’re still so beautiful.”

what the fuck.

katsuki’s breath completely evaporates from his lungs and he feels like he’s going to pass out at your frank words. it doesn’t help that you don’t break eye contact or look embarrassed to have said something so, so… intimate.

he can’t even begin to parse through how to respond to something like that, but you know that too, flicking a little bit of paint water at him with the tip of your brush. he sees the olive branch for what it is and he grabs it with both hands, the annoyed sound rising from his throat on autopilot as you laugh, but your eyes are still so knowing.

he thinks about that day everyday after with sickening butterflies flapping around in his stomach and those only magnify when you choose to call him the new nickname every single chance you get.

katsuki would not dream of stopping you.

—

it’s about two months into you moving in with him and he’s going out drinking with the squad. he’s invited you about thirty times but every time you decline, citing that you’re behind on grading art projects and that show you were looking forward to is airing tonight.

(you’re a substitute art teacher at the local elementary school, a fact that genuinely shocked katsuki when he found out.

you’d laughed, wide and unapologetic at his reaction.

“i know i’ve got quite the potty mouth but i clean it up for the kids,” you say, eyes twinkling. “they kinda love me, i think, but it might just be the bob ross videos i put on for them every friday.”)

katsuki chooses not to push but he knows that he’ll end up cutting the night short, just so he can sprawl next to you on the couch and watch you paint.

you seem to know it too (how?? secret quirk, it must be) if the knowing look you give him isn’t enough as he goes to change.

when he returns to the living room, he’s clad in a nice black button down that’s unbuttoned enough to show off the strong planes of his chest and his thin gold chain, and a pair of black jeans that fit him and his tiny waist incredibly well.

katsuki knows he looks good in this outfit, but he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he stands in front of you, your eyes dragging down his body as slow as molasses, igniting the skin as though it was a physical touch.

your eyes meet his once again, molten and hot, and katsuki’s knees nearly buckle at the sight. he’s never seen you look like that - not at him, not at anyone, and he finds that he quite likes to be the center of your attention in this way.

“you clean up nicely, bambi,” you murmur, your voice a lower timber in comparison to your normal speech.

the blush spreads immediately to all visible parts of his body and he can fucking see you holding back a grin. “fuck off,” is all he can say before he spins on his heel, grabs his keys, and marches out the door.

it takes everything in him to continue walking, out and up to the train station and then to the bar, because all he wants to do is turn right back around, back to your home and back to that lava-like gaze you pinned him with earlier.

it’s you that’s racing around in his mind when he pushes the door open to the bar, but all thoughts come to a complete, grinding halt when he sees kirishima at their usual table, surrounded by all their friends and grinning like he’d never left.

he looks different - after all, it’s been about a year since katsuki had seen him last. his hair is longer and his roots are grown out, his skin has taken on such a warm glow and it, impossibly, seems like he’s gotten even bigger somehow.

it’s also impossible to miss the black band on his ring finger signaling a new engagement ring which he figures is what they’re meant to be celebrating tonight, eyes belatedly catching on the comically tiny “i’m engaged!” sash hanging around his chest.

the sight of kirishima sends the most heinous bolt of anxiety through katsuki and now he really just wants to call you to come get him and take him home, to make him forget all about his unrequited love. he moves backwards to do just that, but he’s already been spotted by kirishima himself.

fuck.

katsuki is frozen as kirishima’s happy expression falters when he meets his eyes, cycling through shock, disbelief, stark hurt and then utter relief.

he can see the way kiri’s mouth forms “katsuki” from a distance as he puts down his drink and moves towards him, his feet completely frozen until they’re standing face to face (face to chest, really) for the first time in months.

“hey,” kirishima says, hesitantly, breathlessly, as his hands flutter uselessly at his sides, like he wants to just pick katsuki up but is stopping himself. “can we, uh, can we go outside and talk?”

katsuki just nods because what else is supposed to do? and as they move out, he catches the worried gazes of their friends watching the pair of them from the table. denki and izuku, the latter of whom knows the most (everything) and the former who managed to figure most of it out on his own.

(“takes one to know one,” he’d said, bitterly when he’d confronted katsuki a few weeks ago about his unexplained mandatory leave all those months ago. katsuki was confused until kaminari flipped around his phone to reveal a photo of him and hanta pressed tightly together in an embrace that was strictly platonic and yet, horribly intimate.

katsuki’s lips drew together into a tight line as he settled against the brick wall kami was leaning against, trying to light the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

“you’re too good for plain face,” he says after a moment, attempting to channel his inner you, blunt and honest. “you’re gonna find someone better.” and just like all his thoughts as of recently, they’d flitted right back to you.

denki had watched his face carefully, cigarette unlit, a thoughtful look crossing his own expression.

“yeah,” he concedes, “i will, won’t i?”)

katsuki gives the pair of them a nod, holding up a hand to izuku who looks like he wants to follow them out of the bar, despite the pounding in his chest and the way he suddenly feels unsteady on his feet as they leave the building to step right back out into the cool, fall air.

kirishima’s stance is awkward and since neither of them smoke, they both just stand there, barely looking at each other and waiting for the other person to speak up first.

“fuckin’ hell- what’d you wanna talk about kirishima?” katsuki grits out, tired of the waiting game and suddenly, immediately, so exhausted. all he wants to do is be curled up beside you, with your all seeing eyes and gentle utterances of “bambi” in his ear.

the tact he’d lost in his haste to get this over with stings kirishima whose brows furrow in annoyance. “what do i want to talk about? i haven’t seen you in a year, bakugou, not since i moved out and you completely cut me off with no explanation whatsoever. i want to know why. what - what did i do wrong?”

his voice breaks on the last word and it sounds so sad, so uncharacteristically eijirou, that katsuki flinches, finally looking over at kirishima to see a broken, pleading man who lost his best friend for nothing more than silly, stupid feelings.

at once, katsuki feels all the fucking idiot asshole he is and it’s staggering how much that thought makes him feel like shit. he could’ve reached out, he could’ve, but he was so worried that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it together, spending time with kiri, and as time passed, the issue became that so much time had passed and he had no idea how to navigate this all over again.

he runs a hand over his face, leaning against the brick facade of the bar. “fuck,” he whispers, gravel crunching underfoot as kiri steps closer.

“i - i miss you, kats,” kiri’s voice comes out quiet and thick, “i got engaged and all i wanted to do was call you, but you weren’t there, you weren’t speaking to me and i-“ he takes a shuddering breath and katsuki’s eyes fill with tears.

“i was in love with you.”

the sounds of the street fade out as katsuki finally turns to look at kirishima, the tears falling down his cheeks.

“wha- bakugou, what?”

“i was in love with you and i couldn’t fuckin’ - i couldn’t do it. not to myself, not to you.”

kirishima face is drawn, pale and mouth gaping. his mouth closes, then opens again, then snaps shut, his head shaking in disbelief.

“why didn’t you - fuck - why didn’t you ever say anything, man?”

katsuki scoffs, the sound wet with grief. “are you shittin’ me? why the hell would i do that?”

kiri shrugs, long, dark lashes sweeping his cheekbones, leaving tiny wet marks. a year ago, the sight would’ve filled katsuki with rabid butterflies, but now it remains just an observation, one made passively and without thinking.

“i should’ve told you somethin’, i fuckin’ know that now, but i was - i was scared. scared of you hating me, scared of losing you. but i went and fucked that one up anyway, so,” katsuki laughs, self deprecating, and kirishima shakes his head vehemently, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.

katsuki’s throat is tight as he gives into the embrace, burying his face into kirishima’s shoulder.

“you haven’t lost me, kats, and you never will,” kirishima whispers, pulling apart far enough to press his forehead to katsuki’s, red eyes meeting red. “i mean, who else is gonna be my best man?”

katsuki’s eyes widen and he takes a step back. “don’t fuck with me.”

kirishima shakes his head, a wet laugh escaping his lips. “not fucking with you bro. you’re my best friend. i want you there beside me on the happiest day of my life.”

after everything, after the year of no contact and the absolutely shitty way katsuki treated him, kirishima still wants katsuki by his side?

he’s honored, he’s out of his depth, he’s fucking nauseous, and he really wants to go home and tell you.

“i met someone,” he blurts and kirishima looks startled at the change of subject, but takes it in stride, a smile tugging at his face.

“that’s so great, dude, congrats! what’s their name?”

katsuki breathes it out and when he does, he realizes something, the force of it hitting him like a steel beam to the head.

“i think i’m in love with them.”

kirishima blinks, taking in katsuki’s tense form. he looks like he’s about to run away.

“i’m so happy for you, kats. really, i am,” kiri says, before being taken off guard yet again by the hug katsuki initiates.

“of course i’ll be your best man, shitty hair. i fuckin’ missed you too,” he murmurs and he hears kirishima sniffle. “i gotta go but text me and we’ll get lunch tomorrow or some shit, okay? i’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

he pulls away to see eijirou’s big wet eyes stare down at him with unabashed care and love, and katsuki feels his heart swell.

he got his best friend back and now it’s time to get you.

kirishima agrees to the meetup wholeheartedly and lets katsuki go with a hearty pat on the back and a shouted “good luck!” over the sound of the rain that started up during the last moments of conversation before going back inside the bar.

katsuki considers blasting his way to you, but he knows the optics would be incredibly unfavorable and his pr department would have his head, so he races to the train station instead and hops aboard, his mind racing with thoughts of you.

his hair is plastered to his forehead with rain by the time he gets to his apartment building and the button up is molded to his body like a second skin. he’s uncomfortable, of course, but he hardly pays it any mind because before he knows it, he’s unlocking and pushing open the door to your shared flat.

he’s home.

you startle from your place upside down on the couch, your paints and sketchbook cluttering the coffee table at the side while the tv plays an ancient looking cooking show quietly.

katsuki is bowled over by the sight, the weight of what he now knows as love sending him stumbling a little on his feet. he has to hold onto the doorjamb to keep his footing.

you sit up, observing, and you tilt your head. “you’re back early,” you comment, curiosity lacing your words.

he nods, not trusting his voice as finally steps past the threshold, kicking off his shoes and putting on a pair of hideous hawks themed slippers that you’d bought for him on your own birthday.

you hum thoughtfully before standing and disappearing down the hallway, katsuki’s eyes glued to you as you go. he can hear the sounds of you rummaging around in the bathroom, his feet frozen to the floor when you return, a fluffy towel in hand.

“you should shower, of course,” you say with a grin, opening up the towel and draping it over his head to dry it before moving on to the rest of his sopping body. “but i figured i’d keep you from dripping all over that ugly rug you’re obsessed with.”

katsuki doesn’t respond, can’t, and you don’t push or question, instead diligently wiping him down until he’s marginally more dry, eg, not actively dripping on the hardwood.

you move to go dispose of the towel and katsuki’s hand shoots out, not of his own volition, to hold you in place. it’s here he notices how close you’ve been standing to him, your breath wafting over his collarbones.

“bambi?” you question, unafraid of him, just lightly confused, but you don’t move away from him, somehow picking up his need for closeness without him saying anything, and he snaps.

“i love you,” he whispers, the explosion in his chest coming out in just those three gruff words, his carmine eyes boring into your own with an intensity you match.

a small smile spreads over your lips and your eyes light up, joy thrumming over your skin. “i love you too, katsuki.”

it’s perfect and katsuki can’t stop himself from cupping your face and pressing your lips together.

the kiss is gentle and chaste, your hands dropping the towel, coming up to rest on his forearms and holding him in place as you move your lips softly against his own.

katsuki feels like the rest of the world could implode right now, could be on fire or flooding or being overrun by villains and none of it would matter, not a single fucking thing because you’re in his arms and you’re kissing him back and you love him.

these thoughts ignite a hunger in him, a flame stoking in his belly, and he pushes further into the kiss, his hands sliding from their place on your face. one cups the back of your neck while the other slides down your back, pressing you firmly against the front of his body.

he’s almost giddy, having you like this, and he’s sure you can feel it because you’re smiling into the kiss like this is the happiest day of your life.

he thinks it’s his.

you continue trading kisses like this in your foyer, but it only escalates when your tongue flickers across katsuki’s bottom lip and you sigh softly, back arching against him.

katsuki has to break apart from you so he doesn’t consume you in that moment, but you don’t go far (you never do), your foreheads pressed together while you breathe in each others air.

“fuckin’ hell,” he chokes out and you laugh. “can i please - fuck - i need you.”

his honesty shuts you up quick and you nod, biting your lip. “take me to bed, bambi.”

and that he does.

katsuki’s hand finds yours and he pulls you towards his bedroom — you’ve been in there countless times, to watch movies, to nap, to read with one another, but of course, it was never like this.

the tension is thick but it’s not uncomfortable at all. you walk over to his bed and plop down on it like you’ve been in this situation a thousand times. the action soothes any residual anxiety katsuki might’ve had as he walks over to you, your heated gaze tracking his movements the entire time.

“take this shit off,” he grumbles, tugging at the garish all might crewneck covering your abdomen and you swat his hand away with an amused look.

he can feel his pout forming at your smile, but you just shake your head. “don’t tell me what to do, bambi,” but still, you raise grip the bottom of the thick fabric, lifting it up and over your head before letting it drop to the ground, leaving you bare.

or almost bare, if not for the objectively hideous, brightly colored, thin, cheap and lacey dynamight themed underwear covering your body.

“what the fuck is this?” katsuki doesn’t mean for his question to come out so reverent, but seeing you clad in his colors sends a bolt of heat down his spine so strong, he’s quite literally never been harder in his life.

you don’t seem to notice (but you always do), tilting your head at him with a grin playing on your lips. “they were on sale. didn’t think you’d ever see them.”

katsuki’s brows furrow at that, his hands tightening from their place on your hips. “who the fuck else was going to?”

you shake your head, like there’s something he isn’t getting. “no one. it’s always been you.”

“fuckin’-“ katsuki surges for you, claiming your lips with his with an urgency that had previously been lost. you respond in kind and this time, you’re letting out all these quiet gasps and sighs, writhing beneath him. he has to see you fall apart.

he reluctantly detaches his face from yours, kissing down your neck and sucking marks into the thin skin there, one of your hands sliding up to tangle into his hair, keeping him close.

a moan escapes him at the feeling of your fingers on his scalp, nearly getting lost in the mindless action, but he has to keep going. he makes it to your chest, laving his tongue over one of your nipples, flicking the hardened bud with the tip.

“f-fuck, bambi,” you outright moan and katsuki has to grind down against the mattress, his free hand sliding to pinch and pull at your other nipple.

your body can’t figure out whether to arch towards or away from his ministrations, which katsuki takes special delight in. you’re always so in control of yourself, even when you’re not, so it’s beyond rewarding to be responsible for your destruction.

“bambi - fuck - ‘suki, fuck me,” you groan and katsuki’s eyes roll back before he pulls off your nipple with a pop, his lips red and slick.

“nah.”

“nah?” you parrot, leaning up on your elbows with the closest thing he’s seen to annoyance directed at him written all over your face.

“nah. ‘m gonna make you come first.” katsuki grins, feral, and you shudder.

“get to it then, hero.” the moniker, while meant to be sarcastic and biting, just makes katsuki moan, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your (dynamight !!) underwear and tossing them to the floor.

he leans in, propping up one of your legs over his shoulder to bury his nose in the crease between hip and thigh, inhaling deeply. you smell sharp and tangy and so you that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a lick, entrance to clit, if he tried.

you sigh at that first touch of his wet muscle, melting in the bed while one hand remains buried in his hair and the other splays above your head. you watch him move with that intense look and you don’t look away so he doesn’t either.

he doesn’t look away as he slurps loudly at your entrance, tasting the wetness that’s gathered there with a pleased hum. doesn’t look away as he swirls his tongue around your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. doesn’t look away as he picks up pace, swirling, flicking and sucking until you’re chanting his name and “bambi,” your body tensing up as you buck your hips up into his face. doesn’t look away when you cum hard, soaking his lips and chin to which he eagerly groans, slurping up all you have to offer.

you pull him up to stop him from licking you through your aftershocks, kissing him hard once he gets to eye level.

“please,” you beg, eyes wide and urgent. who is he to deny you or himself?

katsuki stands and shucks off his boxers in record time, wrapping a hand around his cock that’s hard and leaking, the tip bright red.

your eyes eat him up hungrily, lingering on the way his precum spills over his knuckles with every slow stroke.

“i’m gonna suck your pretty cock tomorrow, preferably before breakfast,” you comment breathlessly. katsuki has to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming in that moment, taking a deep breath and glaring at you when you giggle.

“condom?” you shake your head, leaning back and spreading your legs to show off the wet mess he’s made of you.

“‘m clean and i’m in love with you. fuck me. now.” you can’t even sound commanding, not with the whine lying beneath your words, giving away how bad you want him. how bad you want this.

if the way katsuki’s cock legitimately jumped at your words is anything to go by, he obviously feels the same.

“goddamit, can’t fuckin’ say shit like that to me, jesus,” he rambles, crawling back onto the bed and notching the fat head of his dick into your entrance before leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and messy.

he pushes into you when your tongue is halfway down his throat and he nearly chokes on it. you’re so soft and wet and velvety — he’s gonna cum so fucking fast, holy shit.

of course, you know it too, know him like the back of your hand because you squeeze even tighter around him and slide your hand down between your bodies to rub frantically at your clit.

“you - oh, god, you feel so fucking good bambi, fucking me so well, always taking care of me,” your words slur together as your eyes roll back, his hips slamming into yours at a quick pace.

he wants you to cum first, wants it more than anything, but the dirty talk coupled with the way you feel clenching around him has him shooting off faster than he expected, a low, long whine leaving him.

his hips stutter against yours and fireworks go off behind his eyelids. it feels like he’s coming forever as he humps into you and that feeling is only prolonged by you coming around him, your cunt clenching so tightly, you force him out, his spend spreading all over your mons and pelvis with a choked groan.

after another long moment, he slumps against you, exhausted and happier than he’s ever been.

you hum contentedly, wrapping your arm around him to pull him half on top of you, your body succumbing to the tiredness that’s so quickly overtaken you.

“i love you, katsuki,” you whisper, the phrase thick with sleep and emotion. katsuki feels burning at the backs of his eyes so he buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide, kissing your shoulder when the words don’t come.

you know, though. you always do.

—

“fuck, bambi, we’re gonna be late!” you screech from your (now) shared room, the sound muffled from where your head is buried in the closet.

by the door, katsuki is trying (and failing) to tie his bow tie, the red fabric remaining uncooperative in his hands. he groans in frustration, raising a hand to run it through his hair but stopping short when he remembers how you painstakingly fixed it for him a few hours ago.

“i know! it’s this stupid fuckin’ tie!” he shouts back, staring at himself in the little mirror you purchased, smiling a little despite himself when he remembers that trip to the home decor store with you, picking out new items that represent the both of you for your apartment.

speak of the devil, you step up behind him, looking gorgeous in a red, floor length dress, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“you look really good bambi,” you grin, fingers dragging down his abdomen to rest on his waistband, but his hands stop your downward motion while he gives you a halfhearted glare through the reflection.

“don’t start that shit,” katsuki turns around in your hold to face you, your hands immediately finding his undone tie. you work efficiently, face so scrunched up and focused that katsuki can only lift your face to press a kiss to your lips.

you melt, kissing him back easily and when you pull away, his lips are tinged with your lip products, marked by you. “you have a little something…” you trail off, wiping it away, not realizing how he stares at you like you’re the sun and he has no other choice but to revolve around you.

“marry me,” katsuki blurts, heat burning at the tips of his ears after a moment of you looking at him in utter disbelief.

he worries for a split second that you’re going to say no, but then your face splits into the most blinding smile he’s ever seen.

“are you proposing to me right now, bakugou katsuki?” you tease, fingers toying with the tie around his neck.

he nods, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “so what if i am?”

you laugh and nod, tears filling your lash line as the lighthearted facade drops to reveal you, earnest and honest and so so in love with him.

katsuki has no idea how he got so lucky, what he did in a past life to have you in his life and agreeing to be with him, in his life forever.

“of fucking course, i’ll marry you,” you say, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. “and i want nothing more than to make love to you on our brand new ikea sofa, but if we’re late to kiri’s wedding, he’s gonna kill me and make you watch.”

even the empty threat you make through your happy tears centers you in katsuki’s life, like you know that you are the center of his world, of his entire universe. you always know, know him better than he knows himself and there isn’t anyone on this whole earth who he’d rather be with than you.

he doesn’t tell you any of this though, blinking back tears instead and agreeing with a laugh, before finally ushering the pair of you out the door.

the thing is, katsuki doesn’t have to tell you.

you already know.

#bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #bakugou x you #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x bakugou #bnha smut #bnha angst #hurt/comfort #[ baby daddy : katsuki ]#[ instant nut : n/sft ]#[ i <3 writing : my works ]

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mercurianchild · 2 months

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hey love! what does a Plutonian chart look like? i'm not sure if I have one. how would that affect me?

Strong influence of Pluto…

What a strong Plutonian influence of Pluto in the chart could look like:

Pluto in the 1st, 4th, 7th and 10th house

Pluto aspecting inner planets (Mercury, Venus and Mars)

Pluto strongly aspecting the moon and ascendant, especially tight orbs

TW: mentions of s*x and death!!

Being Pluto dominant or having a strong influence of Pluto means that transformations, ego deaths, feelings of death and rebirth will accompany you for a life time. From my experience, this will be especially harsh in the childhood, youth and maybe in your early adult years. As time passes and as you get older, you might develop self care habits and safety mechanisms to protect yourself and your inner peace. Practising self love, meditation and mindfulness could be important to these individuals, as they could underestimate their beauty and their outstanding personality.

I’ve also seen that most traumatic events happen in the childhood, youth or early adulthood. But that’s just my observation.

Feelings of being deeply misunderstood rise while you are young and this feeling might follow you for years. Constantly searching for someone to understand your complex mind and depth of emotions. These people could benefit from searching for a valve to turn pain, bad experiences and any form of built up emotion into art. Be it writing, drawing, making music…

A reoccurring theme for Plutonians is sexuality. There may be blockages in regards of the own sexuality or experiencing it, but once they overcome this, they literally start to bloom in that area. This could turn into being hungry for power in general (or simply being turned on by overpowering the partner) or in being lascivious. They can be pretty much extreme and freaky in bed, actually. Being intimate never gets boring with them.

I know, this is what you read everywhere, but plutonic people are deeply magnetic and will catch your eye with their intense aura. Even if they are not seen as traditionally beautiful, these natives exude attractiveness and charisma. You just can’t ignore them and they will even stand out in a crowd. BUT! A lot of them don’t have the sex appeal like (for example) Megan Fox has. A lot of them have such an innocence to their appearance, but if you take a closer look you’ll see that they’re like fallen angels.

From my experience, plutonic people will have a deep connection to spirituality or the occult and a profound interest in psychology (for good and bad). They usually get into these things after really hard times in their life. They will attract jealousy and hate like flies, unfortunately and this could take a toll in their self esteem. Even strangers tend to be very competitive and mean to them in some way, because most people simply feel challenged by their presence.

Dear plutonic people,

you ALL are wonderful and you deserve so much more. I feel for every single one of you and I hope you will find true happiness and self acceptance. You’ve been through so much and you deserve the world for all that. I’m sending you all the love you might need right now or later! 🩶

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klemen-tine · 1 month

Text

Glass Bones and Paper Skin Part 3

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect, stalking, Partner Abuse

Part 1

Part 2

@problematicreblogger and @wpdarlingpan Since you guys wanted to be tagged lol

+++++++++++++

Y/N sat in the bathtub in the guest room. It’s been three days since they arrived, saw the photos, and the creepy trophy room. Three days since their conversation with Dick, finding out that they had all been on their terrace and taking photos of them. Stalking them.

They wrapped their arms tighter around their legs, resting their chin on sharp knees and staring at the porcelain tiles and gold facet. Three days of walking on egg shells, somehow managing to evade most attempts in hanging out with the siblings and Bruce, and only really seeing them at meals. Y/N hasn’t built up the nerve to ask about the trophy room, but Y/N knows that everyone in the house knows that Y/N knows of the two rooms. They know of the photos, the ones taken without their permission or knowledge, and the clothes that have redefined their modeling career.

Sighing, Y/N stared at their pruning hands and the now cool water. The bubbles dissolved a long time ago and the essential oils had become diluted enough that the scents no longer permeated the air.

Finally dressed in a robe, lotion and oil on their skin and face and teeth washed, Y/N exited the bathroom and screamed at the sight of Jason on their bed. In the midst of their panic they threw the brush at the larger man, who caught it skillfully.

“Wha-what is wrong with you? No-wait, why are you in my room?” Y/N walked around the large bed to where all their clothes are kept. Their eyes not leaving Jason’s imposing figure that was currently resting on their bed.

“I knocked.” Y/N rolled their eyes, “I didn’t ask if you knocked, why are you in my room?” Jason shrugged, “Just felt like I haven’t talked to you in a bit.” Jason and Y/N’s relationship was like that of dragons in the old ages. Full of history and non-existent.

Jason was already dead by the time Y/N had entered the Manor. A small body buried in the Wayne gravesite. In hindsight, Y/N’s timing had been awful. Moving in when Tim basically forced Batman to take him in as a Robin, Dick’s and Bruce’s relationship had worsened, Jason was dead for about a year, and Alfred had still been grieving. Truly a terrible time to join a family. Y/N could taste the tension when they had first moved in, and they understood immediately that they were just another unneeded burden.

A 13-year-old Y/N cried in their bathroom, mourning their mother who had loved the fame more than them, the friends that loved Y/N for Y/N, and the life on the West Coast that they were now expected to continue on the East Coast.

The unfairness of it all.

“What do you want to talk about?” Y/N asked, rummaging through the drawers and finding a nice shirt and some nice jeans.

“Hmm, oh you know, the casual how are you doing? How’s the model-life? Any fun stories you have? What have you been doing lately?” Y/N started changing in the bathroom, keeping the door cracked so they could hear the questions.

When Y/N reemerged, now fully dressed and the robe hanging on the back of the door, they smiled at Jason, “I’m doing good, kind of tired but that's to be expected because of the ‘model-life.’ The fun stories I have are more of traveling around the world and seeing different cultures and eating good food.

“As of late, I’ve been thinking about getting a cat.” Jason’s brow raised, “You travel though.” Y/N nodded, “Yeah, some models travel with their pets and I think that's what I plan to do. They’re easier to travel with than a dog, and I don’t think a dog would like my condo.” Jason nodded, “You could always leave it here. The little spawn would take care of it.”

“I can’t do that to the family. It’s my pet and should be my responsibility.” Jason hummed, “Is it because you don’t want to visit?” The air stilled and blue eyes met E/C. Jason didn’t look bothered, if anything he seemed relaxed about the whole thing, “It’s fine if that's the reason. I hate being here too.”

Jason came back as a dead person Y/N knew not to talk about. From the stairways, they would watch Jason storm out after a bad argument with Bruce. Unable to completely understand what exactly was going on, but from the hushed conversations they knew it was something they didn’t want to know about.

“I don’t hate being here, I just don’t have reason to visit other than Alfred.” Jason continued to stare at them, “Not even for ‘family.’”

“Jason, when have you ever looked at me and saw a sibling?” Jason didn’t banter with Y/N, never showed interest or any inclination that Y/N even existed. Y/N is pretty sure that to Jason, Y/N is just a stranger living in the manor.

Y/N wonders if they will see Jason’s temper. Will it appear like the monster hidden in the closet, waiting for the right time to lash out at anything? Y/N has heard the screaming matches, the threats, the holes in the walls from Jason. For someone who has killed people, Y/N wonders if they should really be mucking around with Jason.

When Y/N looks at Jason, they see the middle child of a family that had other priorities. Once upon a time, Jason was the youngest and loved by Bruce, but then younger Robins came. Jason died, and while never replaced, Robin was.

When Y/N looks at Jason, they see the middle child of a family that Y/N is not a part of.

They are not siblings. Not cousins, relatives, they are not even friends. Barely acquaintances if Y/N is honest. Which is fine. Y/N has gotten over the hurt and feelings of loneliness.

It is just Y/N against the world, with Alfred partially in their corner. Not fully. Never fully because Alfred will always be in the Wayne family’s corner, and Y/N is not a Wayne.

Jason sighed, “Mmm, I guess that night when you took a beating from that one dude for not getting in the car.” Y/N paused in brushing their hair, mind reeling and slowly turning their head to look at Jason who was instead picking at his nails. Y/N opened their mouth, but Jason beat them to it, “You went out partying, like almost every high schooler does, and your boyfriend was drunk.”

“Just get in the car, Y/N!”

“No! You’re drunk and you said you’d stay sober!”

“I am sober, now get in the fucking car!”

“Fuck off!” A 15-year-old Y/N stormed off, turning their back to Marcus Dueller, the then jock of the school. A rough hand grabbed their shoulder and a fist met their face, “You don’t talk to me like that.”

“...Marcus wasn’t my boyfriend.” Jason didn’t show any signs of hearing Y/N, “You took a pretty bad beating, I’ll admit it. I was going to step in once he started choking you, but you took that brick to his head pretty hard.”

Blood splattered across Y/N’s face as Marcus collapsed. The hands around their neck loosening and Y/N took deeply needed gasps of air. Their throat aching and lungs burning as they rolled over onto their hands and knees. Tears pricked their eyes as the pain and realization settled in.

“I called his friends. He was fine, just a concussion.” Marcus and Y/N never talked again, and Marcus’s friends took one look at the bruises on Y/N’s face and neck to understand what had happened.

They all stayed Marcus’s friends, because unlike Y/N, Marcus was loved by his family.

“Then, you walked your beaten ass towards the liquor store.”

“Oh my God! Y/N!” Stacey cried out in shock, and she gently cupped bruised cheeks and watched split lips grow into a smile.

“Can I have that bottom shelf vodka please?”

“Bitch, you need a second shelf from the bottom vodka.” They sat outside of the store, Stacey’s partner taking over the counter as she watched Y/N take swig after swig from the bottle. Her concerned eyes tracing over each and every bruise and cut, down to the clothes they were wearing and scrapes in their knees and hands.

“How many does this make?”

“Seven. Whoever said seven was a lucky number is a liar.”

“Oh Y/N, why do you keep doing this?” Y/N gave Stacey the most beautiful they could muster. Not minding the ache in their cheeks or the burning of alcohol on split lips.

Looking back at it, perhaps Y/N was on a downward spiral. Trying to find love in other people that weren’t the people at home. From ages 13 to 15, Y/N had dated over 9 people. Not one of them made it past two months, and none of them were healthy.

Once Y/N got into modeling, all their attention went into it. Dating and friends were on a standstill as their career and education became a priority. Maybe that was another thing Y/N inherited from Bruce, a known serial dater. Although, Y/N knows for sure that their taste in partners was definitely inherited from their mother.

Some of Y/N’s earliest memories are of M/N getting berated and smacked around by men bigger than her. When they would leave, Y/N would emerge with bandaids and tears on their face. M/N would smile at them, blood from her nose painting her lips red and she would cup soft cheeks and whisper in their ears-

“Diamonds have never been made with gentle hands.” Y/N glared at Jason, who was meeting that glare head on. Now that they are older, Y/N has learned to hate that phrase. They have watched numerous models be in kind and gentle hands and still be beautiful. Still have a loving and healthy relationship with themselves and the other.

Now that they are older, Y/N knows how untrue those words are. Yet, who said those words had to only be applied to romantic partners?

“Now here you are, in your glass castle imitating diamonds.” Y/N’s nose scrunched, “Always the poet, reading the classics.” Jason shrugged, "Someone has to be literate in this messed up family. Sure as hell ain’t Bruce.” Y/N rolled their eyes, “So what? That still does not explain anything. More importantly, why now then?” Why was it now that they decided to make a move if they had supposedly been caring for a while now.

Jason smirked, "Because finally, Bruce sees it too.” Y/N narrowed their eyes and watched with pursed lips as the bigger and stronger man got up from the bed, and walked over to them, “I’d wear comfortable shoes, Y/N. You’re going out with Bruce and the little spawn today.”

“Wait, what do you mean Bruce finally sees it too? What is there to see?” Jason smiled at him, and it looked more of a monster preening at it’s prey. Callused hands reached up and traced the small, almost invisible scar on Y/N’s upper lip.

“Make sure you smile, the vultures will be there too.”

++++

“I do think green will look best on you.” Y/N smiled at Damian, “Green looks good everybody, Damian. You just need the right shade.” Between them was an emerald green silk shirt, the price displayed like a bounty and Y/N wanted to walk out of the store once they saw it. Yes, they made a lot of money, but Y/N also knows what it means to be frugal.

Damian raised an eyebrow and continued to judge the piece as if it had insulted the family. Y/N set the shirt down and continued to peruse the aisles. Their eyes looking at all the clothing and trying to predict what will be in style. What could they use to match or create their own trend? It is still winter, meaning layers will still be necessary but how to make a stylish outfit when there needs to be layers.

“Do you see anything you want, Y/N?” They jumped a bit, and whirled around to see Bruce smiling at them. Those blue eyes, intense like winter rivers, roamed over what Y/N was looking at and he raised a well groomed eyebrow, “Do you want that one?”

“N-no, no thank you. I’m just looking.” Bruce hummed, and wrapped a large arm around Y/N’s bony shoulders and brought them close. He pressed his lips against his temple, an unusual act of affection towards his kids but everyone will chalk it up to Y/N being a model and still young. Bruce whispered against Y/N’s skin, “Just let me know what you want, and I will get it for you.”

‘If I want to be left alone?’ Y/N didn’t voice it, but they didn’t have too. Bruce’s grin was sharp, “Within reason, Y/N.” A chill ran down Y/N’s spine and they swallowed down the bile threatening to come up.

“I have money, Bruce. I can buy my own stuff.” Bruce picked up a shirt, “Let me spoil you. It is what parents do.”

“You already paid off my condo, that is good enough.” Bruce continued to smile, “That was for the birthdays and holidays I missed while you were with us. I still have to make up for the time when you were with your mother.” Y/N wanted to scream, “How about you donate that then?”

Bruce smiled, “I already do. Let me spoil you.” He kissed Y/N’s temple once more before walking away, eyeing everything the way designers did when critiquing their pieces. Y/N had a feeling that if they didn’t get something from here, the store would be paying the price. Grabbing a sheer halter top and pair of black high waisted pants, Y/N let Damian throw the green top on the small pile and made their way to the check out. The cashier smiled nervously as the Wayne family stood in front of her.

True to Bruce’s promise, he paid for the three articles of clothes, the pair of shoes, the jewelry, the accessories, the–

“I think that is enough.There are a lot of bags, and while I appreciate it, I really don’t need anymore stuff.” Y/N placated Bruce and Damian, already picturing the amount of trips it will be to take everything back home. The man seemed satisfied though, smiling and shrugging his shoulders, “If you insist. How about some lunch now?”

Y/N wanted to decline. They wanted to go back to the manor and get away from everybody. The feeling of walking on eggshells and constantly being watched had their skin crawling and the need to take another bath. Bruce wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder and brought them close, and Damian took up their other side.

“You’re acting more as a bodyguard than a father it seems.” Bruce smiled, “We’re having a nice family outing. I’d hate it if one of your ‘followers’ interrupted." Y/N furrowed their brow, but they could not stop their body from tensing, “Someone is following us?”

“Unfortunately.” The photos they saw in their old room re-emerged and a feeling of dread seized their muscles, making them lean further into Bruce. Yes, they were once all Robins, but not once in those photos taken from their terrace was there ever a reflection of the Bat.

“It’s okay Y/N, I’ll make sure they won’t take any of you.”

“How… how do you know its not you they want a photo of?” Bruce smiled, guiding them into a fancy restaurant, Damian requesting a table away from the windows, "Because they all know not to follow me.” There was something akin to a warning in Bruce’s voice that had Y/N biting their lips and following the wait staff quietly.

Y/N watched as Damian and Bruce conversed casually, well, as casually as Damian can be. The topics went from school, a family named the Kents, and future prospects. Damian was still unsure about what exactly it is he wanted to do, and it most likely didn’t help that Tim was the one who was going to take over Wayne Enterprises.

Y/N continued to eat and sip their tea, not wanting to add to anything as their mind wandered. After talking to Jason, it proved to Y/N that they were somewhat always being watched. Jason bringing up that one specific memory may have made Y/N’s heart rate spike, but it did prove that Jason was there. The photos, all of them that were taken without Y/N’s consent, show that everyone had at some point gained interest.

However, why did they never act on it? Why wait until now to do something?

‘Bruce finally sees it too.’ Y/N’s jaw clenched, what does Bruce have to do with any of this? Could they not interact without Bruce’s permission? Alfred would never allow that.

Would he?

“What do you think, Y/N?” The question jolted Y/N out of their thoughts and back into reality. Looking around the table to two expectant gazes, they gave an apologetic smile, “Sorry. I was thinking about something, what was the question?”

Damian scrunched his nose, “What is there to think about when you have blood-related family members in front of you?” Y/N blinked in shock, and then remembered how much blood meant to Damian. They shrugged, “I have a busy schedule coming up.”

Bruce stabbed the piece of steak with the silver fork, “You do, don’t you.” He stared at his child, one who he has left to their own devices and now is estranged from the family. Always keeping them at arms length, and never looking back to see if they are behind them. Not because Y/N trusts them to be, but because Y/N was used to them not being there.

Y/N, for how proud Bruce is of them for standing on their own, is still naive. Still innocent. They didn’t notice the paparazzi lurking around, or maybe they got so used to them they learned to block them out. None of it sat right with Bruce. Those should have been things he taught Y/N. Things to prepare Y/N for a world that was bathed in camera flashes and gossip. How to look out for themselves. How to defend themselves, and what to do in case there is a stalker. Those should have been at least a fraction of what Bruce taught them.

Yet, he never did any of that. Looking at Y/N sitting across from him, sitting tall and with a closed-off expression, had Bruce frowning. Y/N was still polite, smiled when they needed to and engaged in conversation, but there was still a wall between them. Almost like glass. Bruce is able to see everything and hear almost everything, but his ability to interact with his child is limited. All interactions stopped by the wall of glass put up by Y/N themselves.

It's a good thing that Batman breaks glass windows on a daily basis.

“You have some shoots in New York, will you be visiting afterwards?” Bruce watched Y/N’s eyes widen and lips pursed. He could see the breaking point, cracks spreading throughout the glass as Y/N’s mind tried to wrap around the question.

“How–”

“Is it odd for a parent to know their child’s schedule?” Y/N blinked, and processed the information. A tight smile formed on their lips, “How long have you known my schedule?” Bruce took a bite of the steak and Damian continued to eat his plate of some fancy pasta.

“Now Y/N-”

“How long have you known my schedule?” Damian glanced up, irritated at their father being cut off, but the look on Bruce’s face had him settling down. The man was smiling, non-threateningly but all Y/N could see was the Bruce that had stood before them in the changing room after Gabanna’s runway show. The same eyes, full of intentions that had Y/N shivering and the money, power, and background to act on those intentions.

“Like I have said, Y/N. I am making up for the lost time and neglect you have faced within our home.”

“And I have said, Bruce, there is nothing to make up. That still does not answer my question about you knowing my schedule.” The cracks were spreading, chipping away and becoming weaker.

“What parent doesn’t know-”

“Don’t repeat that sentence. Bruce, you know what I am asking and you keep avoiding it. Who told you my schedule?” An emotion other than faux politeness finally filtered into Y/N’s voice, making the question sound firm and unlikely to bend or be swept away with Bruce’s elusivity. He smiled, “Oh Y/N, did Maya not tell you? GLM Agency has been under new agency since last year. Wayne Industries is now the parent of GLM Agency.”

Y/N stared at Bruce in confusion, their pretty face twisting as the words registered with them. Everything crashed on Y/N, like glass shattering and bathing them in their shards. The guest room that is identical to their bedroom at home, the clothes that are from their closet, the two rooms full of their photos and mannequins wearing their iconic looks, that fucking Batman-inspired piece of clothing.

“Y/N.” They’re walking away from the table, head lost in thought and body moving on autopilot. The need to get away from everyone was overpowering the logical part of their mind, and Y/N is walking towards the front door of the restaurant. Pushing the glass doors open, and being bombarded by flashes from cameras.

“Y/N, what do you have to say about your mother?” A 13-year-old Y/N was guided out of the condo by police officers. Eyes rimmed red from crying and their only source of comfort was the blanket they managed to snag before being escorted out.

“Were you aware of your mother’s drug-use?”

“Are you on drugs?” A 17-year-old Y/N walked past the paparazzi, keeping their eyes forward even though they wanted to snarl at that person.

“Y/N! Look over here!”

“Look!”

“Over here!”

A large hand gripped their arm guided Y/N through the crowd and towards the parking lot where the car was. The large body blocking the photos and shielding them from the flashing of cameras that had thrown Y/N back in time. Once inside the safety of the metal box on wheels, Y/N became aware of their rapid breathing and the feeling of their heart pounding. Irregular beats and sweat began to form on their skin as they struggled to take a breath. Just one breath.

The hand that had guided them to the car grabbed their wrist and placed it on a large and firm chest, emphasizing the deep breaths that Y/N needed and wanted to take. Rough fingers gently traced their cheek, up to their ear, and then to their hair. Gently bringing Y/N back to the present.

“Shh shh, it’s okay Y/N. It’s okay. You’re safe.” E/C eyes drifted around the car, and closed once they saw the person’s reflection.

“Father, those vermin have been cleared. All of them will be getting in trouble.”

“Thank you, Damian.” Y/N rested their head against the glass and fought down the need to jump out of the car. Bruce eyed Y/N, and what made it worse was there was an apologetic look on his face.

“Y/N, I… I am sorry. I thought Maya had told you.”

“Seems like your manager isn’t doing their job if you didn’t know. You should get a new one.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Y/N mumbled, feeling a headache forming and they wanted nothing more than to curl under the covers and die. They could feel Damian’s pointed look through the seat, “Maya is a great manager. She will not be replaced.” Damian sneered, “She didn’t even inform you of the change in ownership.”

“Because it does not concern me. As long as I am able to get booked and get to my destinations, it does not matter who is in charge.” Y/N paused, “Although, now it looks like nepotism.”

Bruce huffed at his child’s overdramaticness, "It's not nepotism. I had no say in what shows you did or who booked them.”

“But you had a say in what clothes I wore.” Ice filled the car and Bruce gave Y/N a long look.

“Just that one piece, and I asked her to do it. She didn’t have to do it.” Y/N laughed, long and hollow as they turned their head to Bruce, “Of course she had to do it. Bruce Wayne is asking for a commission piece, who would turn it down without risking their reputation?” The man sighed, “Y/N, I submitted a commission piece. That is the only thing I had a hand in throughout your modeling career.”

“Others won’t believe that.”

“Who cares what others think.” Y/N whipped their head around to Damian, “I do. I do a lot actually. I care a lot about what my fellow models say and think about me.” The boy rolled his eyes, “Why? Their opinions don’t matter.”

“And your’s do?”

“We are family!”

“By blood, yeah! That’s as far as it goes.” Damian looked ready to snarl out more remarks, but the abrupt parking of the car had both of them pausing. They were already at the manor, and Y/N wondered just how fast was Bruce driving to get them here so quickly.

Y/N was quick to jump out of the car, “I will grab those bags later. Please don’t make Alfred take them.” Bruce followed, “Y/N.”

“No! No, ‘Y/N’ or anything. I want to be left alone.” Y/N pushed open the manor’s front door, and they wonder how many times they have snuck in and out of these doors before. Was it really even sneaking out if someone knew?

“Y/N, we need to talk about this.” There was something in Bruce’s voice that stoked the right ember within Y/N’s chest. Whipping around, they glared at the two Waynes, “For fuck’s sake, I just want to be left alone! I was fine with how things were. None of this-this- whatever the hell this is!

I was fine on my own. I was fine without you guys. I would have been fine if you stayed away!” Bruce didn’t even look bothered that Y/N was yelling, in fact the asshole looked relieved. He gave a patient smile with fake concern in those blue eyes, “The thing is though Y/N, you never should have done it on your own.”

Y/N rolled their eyes, “Where the hell did all of this even come from?! This… this sudden need to be part of my life? You’re not even being subtle about it!” They were drawing a crowd, but Y/N couldn’t even bring themselves to care.

“I keep telling you, it does. Not. Bother. Me that you all were inattentive. It doesn’t make me mad, it doesn’t make me upset, it doesn’t stir anything within me knowing you were not there. Yet here you are trying to make it up and all that nonsense, but when I tell you that it's fine you don’t listen!

“It genuinely seems that you are not doing this for me, but to ease your guilt.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze, and it appeared they were in their own little showdown. Bruce’s gaze, not showing a hint of anger or irritation at his child while Y/N seethed. For once, Y/N looked liked the wild one in the family. Their teeth bared and eyes full of unadulterated rage, they glared at Bruce with the face of a raging angel.

They hated how Bruce’s lips pulled into a smile, and the feeling of gloating eyes falling on their body from all their siblings. Like they all knew something Y/N didn’t.

“Bruce finally sees it too.”

Y/N pocketed that thought, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. Nothing intelligent was ever said when angry–

“So tell your big brother Y/N, how do you expect us to trust you on your own when you can’t even notice someone on your terrace?”

– Fuck it. Intense E/C eyes landed back on Bruce, “If you bought GLM Agency a year ago, why now?” Bruce continued to stare into Y/N’s eyes, “Because it seemed like you needed a break from Gotham. So, I figured a year away would be good.”

Y/N narrowed their gaze, “Then why didn’t you call?”

“Because it looked like you needed a break.” Y/N chuckled, “I needed a break, or you needed time to get those rooms set up?” Bruce raised a brow, but Y/N continued on, “It's one thing to have photos from some photoshoots but not photos taken without my consent. Or the clothes I’ve worn on mannequins with almost the exact same physique as me.”

“They are exact.” Y/N tore their gaze away from Bruce to stare at Tim, the thin and exhausted looking teen standing above them on the stairway. Chapped lips opened, “We used the measurements within the modeling database and created mannequins that have your exact measurements.”

Y/N gaped at him for a quick second before rolling their eyes, “Wow. That’s not helping your guys’ case at all.” Dick approached them, going for a placating gesture and an easy smile, “Now Y/N, I think you might be overreacting–”

“I think I am underreacting to all of this. I find out that you all have been taking secret photos of me, which someone them are from my ‘stalker’ and I don’t really believe that but whatever, you have access to my bank account, you bought the modeling agency I work for, commissioned a Batman-inspired piece, and that you have been keeping some of runway pieces on models that are exactly my measurements!

How else am I supposed to be reacting?! And I still don’t have my phone back!” Y/N snapped at Dick, and then began to rub their temples when the headache got worse. An Aspirin, they need an Aspirin. Now, preferably but Y/N has the strangest sense that even if they did take it, the headache would not go away.

“Whatever, just… I’m going home tomorrow and whatever was bought today just… just ship it. Since you know my address and all that apparently.” Y/N began walking up the stairs, ignoring the panicked looks some of their ‘siblings’ were giving them and the dark look on Bruce’s face.

Dick, ever the peacemaker, reached out, “Wait, you can’t go back yet! You still have a few more weeks before your next shoot. Just stay for a few more days.”

“Add kidnapping and being held against my will to that list too.” Y/N continued walking, feeling exhausted and wanting to sleep. They missed the nod Bruce gave Tim and Damian, and they missed the dark and knowing looks on Jason’s and Dick’s face. The walk back to the room was long, and more exhausting than usual. The events of today caught up to them and Y/N wanted nothing more than to cry, scream, and then go to sleep.

Because why not.

“Y/N, you are making a mistake.” Dick followed after their younger sibling, who only sped up to get away from them. The man grabbed Y/N’s forearm, “Y/N, listen! You don’t want to do this.”

“What is ‘this’ you are talking about Dick? I am literally just going home. It is not a big deal.” Y/N tried to pull their arm away from Dick, but to no avail.

“It's how you are doing it Y/N. All we want is to spend time with you and make up for the lost time!” Y/N wanted to scream at Dick, but held it in and instead gritted out, “Why didn’t you do it normally then? Like… texting or calling.” Dick pouted, those blue eyes looking sad and his lower lip jutting out like a toddler, “We missed you, and we just wanted to see you.”

Y/N’s face was scrunched, their mouth open in disgust, “How can you say that with that look on your face as if you all weren’t the ones who ignored me?” Dick looked heartbroken and some part of Y/N felt bad about that. They remembered the room with the photos and the other side of Dick that they saw only a few days ago. Their body seized in terror, but Y/N tried to keep their expression neutral.

“Look, Dick, once again I am not mad about how my time here was spent. I’m genuinely not. But you guys keep throwing it back in my face and saying such contradicting things, of course I’m going to get upset about it.” They are trying to be civil. Trying so desperately to be civil and it feels like it is not working. Old wounds and painful memories continued to be dragged out of the crevices of their minds like it was some type of zoo attraction.

A 16-year-old Y/N stared at the shattered mirror, tears racing down their face as they stared at their broken reflection. All they could see were the imperfections everyone continued to call out. Comparing them to their mother, to other models, to society’s twisted views of beauty that Y/N is trying to be.

If their mother was alive, would she know what to say? Would she gaze at them with those soft eyes and long lashes, smiling beautifully and whispering, “Diamonds have never been made with gentle hands.” Continuing to remind Y/N that modeling was not a gentle job. It wasn’t a job for those with paper skin or glass bones. Those easily hurt by the meanest of comments, nastiest looks, and the horrendous words never made it in this industry.

Would this have been easier if they had the support of Bruce and his kids?

Labored breaths and broken sobs filled room-turned-practice room as the mirrors caught the sight of a teenager breaking down. Crumbling and shattering under the pressure, pricking their fingers as they cleaned up the broken mirror and picking up their shattered image.

It will be those same mirrors that watched those broken shards form their glass castle, posing as diamonds to deter others from trying to break in.

Y/N continued to walk down the long hallway, ignoring Dick’s calls and locking the door behind them. It was only 2pm, and Y/N had plans to sleep the rest of the day. They had no bags to pack, and nothing here they felt like taking. All they needed to do is sleep the day away, which will be easy, wake up tomorrow, call a cab and skedaddle out of here.

“Thats all we have to do, Y/N.” They closed their eyes for what only felt like a few minutes, until jostling and whispers of their name had them groggily opening their eyes. A yawn escaping them and their eyes struggled to open.

“Why are you in my room?” Tim gave a small huff, “Its dinner time.” Y/N buried their face in their pillow, groaning out a ‘not hungry.’ The young man hummed, “I think you should come down for this one, Y/N. You might get the answers you want.”

“Not interested.” Tim leaned down, his breath tickling Y/N’s ear, “You’re glass castle is shattering, Y/N. Don’t you want help fixing it?” Y/N wanted to swing. They wanted to do something to get their point across that they wanted almost nothing to do with this crazy family anymore.

They opted to glare, and Tim gave a soft smile, “C’mon, lets go eat. Besides, Alfred said that the cab won’t be coming for you if you don’t eat dinner.”

“Alfie!” Y/N groaned into the pillow, and they had stopo themselves from throwing up their arms and legs in a fit. Leave it to Alfred to do something so diabolical. Groaning one more time, Y/N sat up and mentally braced themselves for this shitshow of a dinner.

E/C eyes looked at the door they know they locked, and chose that whatever little bickerment that will start was not worth it at this point in time. Throwing their legs over the bed, they followed Tim out of the room and towards the dining room.

Everyone was there, and waiting for Y/N to appear. Once again, they were made to sit between Bruce and Damian, which they did so with little complaint.

“Now, Y/N, it looks like everyone has some explaining to do.” Y/N gave Bruce the driest most unimpressed face they could muster, to which the man took with a smile, “So, what questions do you want answered?”

‘They’re really doing this.’ Y/N could feel another headache forming, but decided to take the brightly colored bait. Looking at Jason, who was meeting their gaze with his green eyes waiting for this question, Y/N asked, “What did you mean when you said ‘Bruce sees it too.’” The man smirked, meeting Bruce’s eyes and back to Y/N, “Exactly that. The old man finally sees what you are to this messed up family.”

Y/N narrowed their gaze, taking a bite of the pasta, and chewing slowly. Dick decided to chime in, “Y/N, you have been loved by us for a while. Something you probably pieced together, but Bruce took a while to see it because… well because you’re not us.”

“Not like, you’re not Robin, but more like you’re not…”

“You’re fragile.” Everyone’s head turned to Damian, and Y/N had half the idea to be upset about that. They raised an eyebrow, but before they could say anything Damian continued, “You are not meant for this life we lead. Vigilantism never suited you, and that is something I picked up on when I first came here.”

When Damian had first met Y/N, it was like seeing a rare flower that had to be protected at all costs. Y/N was something that at the slightest gesture, could be hurt. When people come across something ethereal like that, the need to protect it can be divided into two different directions.

Hovering or distancing.

Bruce chose to distance himself, whether he knew it or not, and Damian had followed suit. He watched as his older sibling hovered from a distance, watching the rare flower bloom before it was finally the right time to engage with it.

“Y/N, it isn’t so much that I didn’t want to interact with you, it is that I didn’t know how.” Bruce looked into his child’s eyes, “How could I interact with someone who needed gentle hands, when there is not a gentle bone in my body.” Bruce’s hands have broken more bones than the human body has. He has scars on his skin and calluses on the palm of his hands.

“It took me a while to figure out why, but once I did, your absence became suffocating.” Everyone had been gasping for air, doing everything in their power for the slightest piece of oxygen. It was the fear of Y/N being harmed that kept them collared and chained to the photos, every interview, every runway show.

However, Bruce knows that every now and then, children should be able to spread their wings and fall. Y/N ended up flying, soaring above them and never looking back down. Bruce, and the family, decided to give Y/N a year. Just one on their own. This gave them all plenty of time to improve the glass terrarium that they wanted Y/N to be placed back in. This time they will be protected and paid attention too.

“When everyone stated that I can finally see the impact you have on this family, it means I have to come to terms with the fact that I no longer want to be hands off with your life and career.” Y/N’s brow furrowed, not liking the term ‘hands off.’

“You have done great on your own. A fabulous job. Clawing your way up and making a name for yourself, I am so proud of you. Everyone is extremely proud of you.

However, there is no need for you to struggle anymore. You’ve proven yourself, now let us take care of the rest.” Y/N felt shivers go down their spine as they stared at their family in fear. They took in each expression, and when they made eye contact with Jason, the other had a daring look in his eyes. Begging for Y/N to do something, similar to how predators hope for their prey to fight back to make the kill all the more interesting.

“But… But I don’t need your help, Bruce. I can do this on my own.” Bruce’s smile was that of honey, luring in unsuspecting insects and trapping them in its viscous fluid. If Y/N were younger, they may have fallen for it. They may have allowed themselves to coat their fingers in sugary words and sweet gestures, just so they could feel the love from a father.

“I know. We know, but you don’t need to anymore.”

“Now wait a minute-no. No no no no. You can’t just do that, explain yourself, and expect me to just roll with it.” Y/N set their napkin down, and tried to stand from the table, “I don’t need your help, although thank you for wanting to I guess. I am fine with it just being me and Maya.”

“About that…” Dick grimaced, handing Y/N his phone and pulled up was an article.

Y/N’s eyes widened and the world around them went cold. THey looked back up, “You’re lying.” Dick shook his head, fake empathy across his face as Y/N continued to read the article.

“No. NO this is a joke and a terrible one. Maya would never–”

“They were found in her apartment, Y/N.” The headlines, eerily similar to ones from five year ago, flashed across the small phone screen.

Manager of Model Y/N L/N Suspected of Drug Usage

Y/N wanted to cry. Horrible flashbacks resurfacing and tears pricking their eyes. They turned to Bruce who was still sitting and eating his pasta.

“Bruce, please. I know Maya, she would never do this.” The man said nothing. Y/N bit their lip, “Bruce… Bruce please. If its because of what I said then take that out on me. Please leave Maya out of it.

“Please Bruce! I know Maya. She’d never do that, and–and Bruce please.” Y/N was whimpering now, tears streaming down their face as the thought of losing their manager, the last person they had, nearly had them collapsing to their knees.

“Lets make a deal, Y/N.” Bruce wiped the corner of his lips, and grabbed Y/N’s thin wrist.

“You come home more often, during breaks and whatnot. I won’t have a lot of control over your modeling schedule, but make sure you include time each week for family. The only exception is when you are out of the country.” Y/N stared at Bruce in confusion, but nodded along.

“In return, Maya gets out of trouble. Nothing will change other than the weekly meeting with family.” Y/N can’t breathe. They cannot breathe and there were eyes all on them. Gulping down on whatever air they can get a hold of, Y/N sobbed out, “Why are you going to such lengths?”

Bruce stood, and even though Y/N is tall, no one compares to Bruce’s towering figure. He smiled down at the model, and cupped a wet cheek with a calloused hand. Ice blue eyes stared into watery E/C eyes, and that smile turned too sharp to not be hidden blade, “I told you. It is too make up for lost time. Plus, as those photos suggest, you need protection. What better protection could you have that is not only part of the family, but also vigilantes?

“While it is true that diamonds are never made without pressure, diamond-encrusted jewlery require gentle hands and patience.” Bruce kissed Y/N’s temple, and the model flinched away. Ice blue met their eyes once more, “Now pick, Y/N. Either way, you will still be meeting us once a week, but you can have someone you know at your side or someone under my command.”

+++++

“And cut! Good job everyone!” The flashes from the camera stopped and the stage lighting turned off, no longer blinding everyone within the room. Y/N stood up from the red couch, a smile still on their lips as they thanked the photographers.

“Y/N, as always, perfect shots!”

“Good job Y/N!”

“Thank you for doing this, Y/N!” They continued to smile and acknowledge everyone that passed by, Maya right behind as they walked back to the changing room. Sitting on the couch was Jason’s large form and Tim’s lithe one. Both of them looking up as Y/N entered, ignoring Maya’s flinch.

“You have a birthday gala you need to catch. Come on, change out of that and lets go.” Leave it to Jason to get the message across. Y/N nodded, taking to the changing room where they know their clothes are already waiting for them. They could hear Tim interrogating Maya in the politist way. Clipped words and empty praises.

“Y/N they came out of nowhere! They stormed in and went straight to a vent where these-these drugs were! I’ve never even seen those there before! Let alone know that there was a vent!” Maya cried into Y/N’s shoulder as Dick and Damian watched on.

Emerging from the changing room in jeans and a crew neck, Y/N sighed, “Alright, shall we get going?” Jason stood up and Tim shook Maya’s sweaty hand. Y/N gave his manager a nod, signalling for her to take the rest of the day off. Jason’s large hand rested on the small of Y/N’s back, and Tim led the way to the new car that Bruce bought.

The ride was only two hours, filled with light conversation and catching up. Once at the mansion, Y/N greeted Alfred with a hug. Not as tight as they normally are, but it felt wrong entering the mansion without hugging Alfred. Bruce entered the foyer and grinned, hugging Y/N and kissing their temple.

“Your clothes are in your room, and there is another present on behalf of Damian and Jason.” Y/N nodded, “Thanks, Bruce.” The man smiled, “Come and eat dinner when you are done. We’ll have enough time before the Gala to at least eat something.” Y/N began walking away, each step up the stairs feeling like there was lead on their feet stopping them from going any further.

Once in the room, the locked the door and on the bed was a box and black and gold clothing. The black looking like it was made out of silk, and the gold was sequin. Y/N carefully walked towards the box, and when they lifted the lid, a white kitten mewed at them. Their fur still looking young and their eyes bluer than Bruce’s. They mewed and mewed, and Y/N could feel tears streaming down their face.

In neat cursive and tied around the bow of the box, was a small note, ‘We’ll watch her when you decide to leave the country.’

Y/N bit their lip, and felt as if their world was falling a part once more. Broken glass surrounding them and no matter where they stepped, their feet will end up bleeding. Now forced to rely on their family to carry them out of the mess they made, and now… now there was a lifeform that this family can and most likely will use against them.

Thin fingers gently picked up the cat and gave it a wobbly smile, as she mewed at Y/N. A red collar already around her neck, tied in a perfect bow.

“Y/N, the makeup artists are here. Are you ready?” Wiping their tears, Y/N set the kitten down and took in the black and gold piece once more.

“Not yet, but they can come in. I’ll get dressed afterwards.”

“Alright.” The door opened, despite Y/N locking it, and it was Dick smiling as he let in the two artists who were now scrambling to get set up. Blue eyes traveled from the cat, to the clothes, and back to Y/N. He grinned and stalked closer to his younger sibling that was now being corralled into sitting in front of the makeup artist.

He picked up the kitten and passed her for Y/N to hold, whispering in their ears, “Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

______________________________________________________________

Honestly... I really like this series. I think I'm going to do other stories but in the other characters POV now.

#batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam #platonic yandere #batfam #batman x reader #bruce wayne #platonic batman #platonic batfam #yandere imagines #gender neautral reader #batman x gn reader #Yandere batman #batfam x male reader #Batfamily x female reader #Batfamily x gender neutral reader

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kitten4sannie · 3 months

Text

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛ

ᴛᴇɴᴛᴀᴄʟᴇꜱ/ᴛɪᴛꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ➠ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ

pairing: intergalactic alien idol! wooyoung x cyborg call girl! reader (fem) feat. ai! san

genre: futuristic au, idol au, smut

summary: your company pleasureplanet™ gets a call from the most sought after idol in your galaxy, requesting you for an evening. he shows you a side his fans have never seen before.

w.c: 2.5k

warnings: switch! wooyoung, reader adapts to whatever woo wants for her own pleasure ^^, alien heat cycles, woo’s got an big alien cock, implied voyeurism, praise, begging, tentacle sucking + fucking, deep-throating, titfucking, choking kink but not in the way you think, unprotected sex, just…so much cum and alien goo lol, breeding/impreg kink, actual impregnation (in this economic climate??), oviposition, creampie, cum inflation

a/n: i’m giving my lord and savior cthulhu all the credit for bestowing this idea upon me,, it’s not like i’ve been wanting to write something this heinous for months and months… where’d you even get that idea from?? haha…ha. but fr im so happy i finally got to write out something that’s akin to a hentai lol i’m living my best smut writer life rn. please heed the warnings and if you did so i hope you enjoy :3

Now Playing:

ᴘʟ4ʏɢ1ʀʟ ʙʏ ʟᴏʟᴏ ᴢᴏᴜᴀÏ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

Wooyoung woke up from his sleep in a cold sweat, the flashing lights projecting from the room’s flatscreen making patterns on his glistening skin as he sat up, his body filled with an odd, though familiar heaviness that he knew he would have to take care of sooner than later.

“Shit, is it happening already?” he whispered to himself, groaning as pulled himself to the edge of the king-sized bed to sit comfortably. “San, do a body scan.” Wooyoung rubbed his tired eyes, waiting for his in-house AI system to kick in, a familiar ding suddenly ringing out inside the empty room.

A projection of a youthful man with sharp, feline-like features appeared on the wall closest to Wooyoung’s bed. He looked in Wooyoung’s general direction, giving him a cordial smile and a bow. “Good evening, Wooyoung.” Blue rings of light formed along the edges of San’s brown eyes, studying Wooyoung’s form. “It appears that your BPM is above normal range. Abnormal body temperature and cortisol production have been detected. Unusually high levels of arousal and semen production are recognized as well,” the AI stated matter-of-factly, blinking. “You seem to be exhibiting symptoms of an illness that members of your sector are susceptible to contracting during this time of year. Would you like to see an in-depth analysis?”

“Yes, San.” Wooyoung waited for a moment until a prompt appeared on the small computer built into his wrist, tapping a few options, until it projected various images to him. The application showed him what he was in denial about discovering, the bright red letters indicating that he was indeed smack dab in the middle of an intense heat, and to make things worse, he was carrying. To make matters even worse, he knew his kind was required to transfer his offspring to a willing partner, or else his own body would become a birthing ground.

Knowing that he had too many fans relying on him in the intergalactic entertainment world, it simply wasn’t an option for him to retire. He would have to find someone that could host them for him, but where? And so late in the night? Who could possibly–

“Hey, sexy, are you looking for a late-night lover?” an ample-chested member of the spider dimension with eight hooded eyes and fearsome mandibles questioned Wooyoung from the bright TV screen, bringing a bit of their web together into a pattern that formed a heart.

“Oh?” Wooyoung murmured, realizing that just perhaps his reluctant, desperate prayers to his galaxy’s god were in the process of being answered.

A curvy gray alien leaning seductively against a bar table continued the spiel, “Someone you can unload your deepest desires onto? Someone that can make your wildest dreams come true?”

“Well, look no further.” An enthusiastic, though automated voice took over this time, as the screen showcased the company’s shiny logo, while it flipped through a slew of optional playmates across the screen like pages of an open book, showcasing the wide range of choices Wooyoung had. “Our playmates at Pleasure Planet will take good care of you. For price options, call (XXX)-XXX.”

Wooyoung bit his lip, about to look away from the TV when you popped up on the screen, drawing his attention to you, your human-like beauty mixed with the metal intricacies of a robot standing out to him.

“Well, what are you waiting for, baby?” you asked Wooyoung through the screen, laying across a plush velvet couch in only a small black slip, your back arched, running your fingers up along your sleek body, until you brought them into your hair to push it behind your ears, your fingers brushing against the small lit-up chrome circle near your temple. “Give me a call~”

Wooyoung gulped so hard, he almost swallowed his Adam’s apple, knowing what he had to do. He rubbed at his sweaty neck, feeling more beads of sweat trickle down his neck to his chest, the loose sleep t-shirt that was hanging off his shoulders now tinted a darker color. “San, call Pleasure Planet and book me an appointment with the cyborg girl.”

“Right away, Wooyoung,” San obeyed, bowing at the waist, before his image dissipated, the wall returning to a blank state.

࿏࿏࿏

A soft ding sound filled the empty space of Wooyoung’s expansive cyber chamber after some time went by, finally distracting the overheated alien from his current predicament. He continued to lay in a fetal position on the side of his bed, too overwhelmed by the dizzying amount of arousal that was swirling around his insides like a shoal of fish. “Is…nnngh…she here, San?”

San’s form materialized onto the wall once more, scanning his Master’s crumpled up body, running a number of tests, finding that the situation was beginning to grow imminent. “Yes, she is, Wooyoung. Please begin the mating ritual as soon as possible, to prevent less favorable outcomes. I’m sure your company wouldn’t want you–”

“You think I don’t know that, San?” he snapped back, holding a hand to his disruptive abdomen, groaning in both pain and unexplainable pleasure, as what Wooyoung could only describe as molten-hot lava churning around inside his core, just aching to spill out of him. “Where the fuck is she? I need to–”

“I’m here for you, Wooyoung. Please, put your worries to rest,” you replied as you entered his room, Wooyoung’s eyes following your movements like a moth to a flame, taking slow steps up to his bed, shedding various articles of your clothing until you were bare for him.

“O-oh, hi,” Wooyoung croaked, doing his best to sit up in his bed with his head against his pillow, beads of sweat already soaking into it, strands of black hair sticking to his forehead. He watched you climb onto his bed and crawl towards him, his eyes shifting from your face to your body, trying to get his spinning mind to stop for a moment. “Wh-what’s your name?”

“Y/N, but you can call me whatever you want. I’m yours for tonight~” You mounted him, lowering yourself down to feel his aching length pressing into your heat through his boxers.

“Y/N…” he repeated softly, entranced by you.

Smiling down at him, you gently ran your hands up his rapidly rising abdomen, feeling up his soft body along the way, eventually slipping him out of the sweater he was in, eliciting a whine from the alien below you. You brought your lips near Wooyoung’s parted ones, whispering against them, “Oh, baby, you’re in bad shape, huh? Need me to take care of you?”

Wooyoung nodded weakly, his hands on your thighs, feeling your soft skin underneath his heated grasp. He squeezed into it, swallowing harshly, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing inside his throat. “Y-yes, please, it hurts so bad…”

San, who was still watching from the wall, cleared his throat, doing his duty and informing his Master of important information. “Master, please return to your body’s natural state soon. Your vitals are starting to worry me.”

“I got it, San,” Wooyoung grunted, glaring at the AI, before returning his attention to you. “Oh my god…” He groaned at the sight of you running your hands up and down your perfectly created body, your fingers slipping past the metal, glowing seams that sealed you together, until you got down to your glistening cunt, your fingers spreading yourself open for his viewing pleasure, all while grinding back and forth against his slippery, clothed length. “Y/N…fuck…I just…don’t want to scare you…”

“You won’t, trust me. Please, let yourself go, Wooyoung, it’s okay,” you reassured him softly, licking at your fingers before they returned to your perfect pussy, rubbing at your clit, feeling zaps of electricity course through your body, your artificial synapses firing off inside your brain. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

Inhaling sharply, Wooyoung closed his eyes for a moment to ground himself, knowing you wouldn’t judge every inch of him like people on the Universal Net did. Little by little, he let his body return to its natural state, small, ridged scales growing in patches along his skin, which exhibited an electric blue tint wherever his blood settled in the most, long, slick-covered tentacles emerging from his form, some of them idly curling around different parts of your body — the most notable change to his body being his cock, which tore out of his boxers from its size. It was no longer human-like, but instead resembled his wriggling appendages, had prominent ridges, leaked a steady flow of blue, viscous pre-cum, and had an obvious girth to it, thick, heavy-looking, and perhaps capable of stretching you open to your particular model’s max capacity for cock.

“Oh, Wooyoung,” you sighed, small digital hearts forming within your hooded eyes, cupping the alien’s flushed face, bringing your lips to his. “You're beautiful.”

Wooyoung melted into your kiss and body respectively, bringing his hands up to your own face, holding it, his tentacles exploring the rest of your form for him, a few curling around and in between your tits, others sliding along your thighs and hips, while his slippery cock idly rubbed back and forth along your cunt like it had a mind of its own, sending waves of pleasure into the both of you. “Fuck, I need you so bad, Y/N…”

A string of saliva broke your kiss as you pulled back, squeezing your tits together around the tentacle that was between them, licking at the wriggling tip. “How bad, baby? How bad do you want to fill me up with your cock?” you asked breathily, feeling the tentacle begin to thrust faster and faster, dripping blue pre-cum onto your slick skin. “You want to fuck your cum into me, Wooyoung? Fuck me so deep, it reaches my womb?”

“Y-esss, please, oh my god, please,” Wooyoung moaned out, grabbing at your hips, continuing to grind his large, ridged cock against your cunt, unable to stop gasping for air from how hard he was breathing.

“Then, come here,” you purred, reaching down to grab Wooyoung’s cock and pushing it inside you, feeling it fill you up inch by inch until your hungry cunt swallowed it in its entirety, your bodies essentially becoming one.

Any semblance of composure completely left Wooyoung’s burning body in that moment, encouraging him to grab onto your hips like handlebars and drive his cock deep into your cunt over and over, his tentacles still eagerly exploring the expanse of your skin, some rubbing into your clit, others still preoccupied with your now bouncing tits, an additional tentacle loosely wrapping around your neck, the tip of it sliding along your cheek like it was licking you. “Feels so fucking good being inside you, Y/N, I’m gonna melt.”

“Take me, Wooyoung, do whatever you want to me,” you told the alien in between pants, opening your mouth when Wooyoung’s tentacle rolled down your other cheek and across your lips, eventually slipping inside your mouth when you opened up, the small round disk built into your temple continually flashing blue the longer your body short-circuited with pleasure, your sensitive flesh squelching lewdly each time they joined together in slick, gooey harmony.

Wooyoung watched you with a fondness that bordered obsession, drooling at the sight of his appendage fucking itself into your bulging throat that it was wrapped tightly around, still bringing you down onto his cock at an unnerving speed, the heaviness swirling around inside his lower abdomen growing more and more prominent. “I’m going to breed you, Y/N, did you know that? I’m going to fill you to the fucking brim with my kids.”

You gurgled happily around the thrusting tentacle that was currently stretching out your lips and throat, your body shuddering with pleasure once load after load of blue goo spilled into your willing mouth, dripping down the sides of your chin and traveling along the rest of your slicked-up body. The tentacle left your mouth with a lewd pop and slowly wrapped around your waist instead. “Fill me up, Wooyoung, please, fuck it in me, deeper, I need it,” you begged him, desperately driving yourself down on his thick cock, cupping your own overheated cheeks, the hearts inside your eyes growing more and more bright each time the alien’s cock slipped deep inside your sloppy cunt.

“Gonna fuck you so full, Y/N, gonna plug you up with my cock so you have to be my breeding bitch again and again,” Wooyoung mindlessly moaned out, simply driven by his overwhelming lust and instinctual urge to procreate, the heaviness moving closer and closer to his pulsing cock.

“Yes, give it to me, please…!”

San, who had been silently observing the entire time, cleared his dry throat up to announce, “Delivery of offspring will be completed in…three…two..one…”

Neither you nor Wooyoung could tell who had came harder between the both of you, your joined moans and pants filling up the heavy air in the room. Wooyoung’s hands were cemented against your lower abdomen, able to feel as each warm, egg-like object had been deposited into your contracting cunt. “Feel them?” he asked under his breath, looking up into your barely open eyes.

“Yeah, I feel them,” you breathed, feeling dizzy just from the sensation of being filled to the absolute brim, Wooyoung’s cock acting as a dam until he knew that nothing except loads of his cum would come out afterwards, a small bulge present inside your stomach being the proof of what had been done to you.

Wooyoung let out a small whine, slowly pulling out of you, his cock flopping lifelessly onto his pelvis, his eyes focused on the way your used hole fluttered around nothing, dribbles of electric blue cum dripping out, until a flood of it came seeping out in between your sticky bodies. With a blissful smile on his face, Wooyoung rubbed your stomach with gentle circles, humming to himself. “Let me know when you’re ready for another round, okay, baby?”

You smiled softly down at him, placing your hand over his, ready to ask him for another round as soon as possible when San spoke instead.

“I hate to interrupt, but you have quite the schedule tomorrow, Wooyoung…practice at 9, vocals at 11, a fan meeting in the Twilight Quadrant at 3….” San slowly informed in a disheartened tone, a drop of sweat cascading down the side of his sleek face.

Wooyoung growled, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at the wall, the image of San blurring temporarily. “Shut off! Shut down, San!” He looked back at you, rubbing your hips gently, unable to stop smiling at your pretty cybernetic face.

San disappeared from the wall, but his voice remained. “Just so you know, I don’t actually have a shut-off button, Wooyoung. I’m sentient…”

Wooyoung’s fingers clenched into your hips, his eyebrows twitching downwards. “Oh my god, San, just wait till I fucking figure out how to hack your programming…”

San cleared his throat, shaking his head, though it wasn’t visible to either of you, especially since you were both too busy eye-fucking each other. “Again, I’m sentient. That’s out of the realm of possibility.”

“San!”

fff taglist: FFF taglist: @itza-meee @chnt1 @k-hotchoisan @wonyobie @vampiregirl215 @yuyusbunny @christmastodoroki @luvt0kki @pieyoon @goldnhwa @choisanboobenthusiast @icyb3rry @maximofftrash @choism @yunhosmelonbar @nebulousbookshelf @astayinwonderland @slutologyy @10nantscompanion @ddaeing @pandagirl-016 @Randomgirl11-posts @staytiny816 @horanghae8 @smally97 @ateezzzser r @crispybaguettes @bubblegumbird @midnightmaja @i2nsstuff @asimpelslut @svt-dinosaurus @wisejudgedragonhairdo @deathbyyeekies @firefox79 @wildesreblogs @everyonewooeverywhere @raspberrysannie @Whatintheninerealms @hyunjinsbby (pls check your privacy settings if i couldn’t tag you lovelies <3)

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#cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #wonderlandnet #ateez #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung smut #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines

775 notes · View notes

hoejosatoru · 11 months

Text

Well Trained

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Feitan, Fem!Reader x Chrollo (separately)

Summary: Chrollo is a particular man, with particular taste. Though he loves everything about you, he has yet to see how you preform in bed. He fears that if you disappoint him, it will ruin everything that you’ve built together. Luckily, he knows someone who can teach you to behave exactly how he likes.

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: Dub con that borders on noncon at times. If you’re sensitive to that at all I would skip this one, toxic relationship dynamic, manipulation, face slapping, choking, scratching, rough sex, degradation, praise, Feitan is mean but we know that, Dom Chrollo, calls you good girl a lot, body marking, oral (fem receiving), raw sex, cream pie, not proof read. MDNI

a/n: So I’ve had this idea in my head FOREVER because I want both Chrollo and feitan badly. Writing this concept out was lowkey kicking my ass though. I think I ended up pulling it together, but I hope y’all enjoy.

Dating Chrollo was a dream come true. He was everything you ever wanted in a man: intelligent, attentive, and sweet. Not to mention so handsome. He treated you like a princess and you loved it. Everything was perfect.

Well, almost everything.

You’d been dating for a couple months and you hadn’t had sex yet. At first you thought he wasn’t that into you, but when he kept coming back for more dates you knew that couldn’t be the case. You wondered if he was a wait till marriage type, or was shy in some way. You respected the boundary, despite wanting to sleep with him so bad. If he needed more time, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but it was starting to worry you.

Little did you know, Chrollo wanted to sleep with you just as badly. Maybe even more so. He was very picky with who he slept with, hence this long period of courting. However, the more time he spent with you, the more he realized he had genuine feelings for you. He has had some relationships in the past, but he always knew they would not be very longterm. You, however, he felt was someone he could see himself with forever.

This revelation made him want to make sure everything was perfect. He liked women with experience, who knew what they were doing and how to please him. However, he hated having to put the work in to get his partners there himself. Luckily, he knew someone who was a very effective teacher.

“My love,” Chrollo spoke over his wine, “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

He smiled at your eagerness. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

Your cheeks colored at the blatant question. Chrollo loved how demure you were. “Y-yes, I do. A lot, actually.”

“Good,” Chrollo replied, taking a sip of his deep burgundy drink, “I have wanted to for some time now, but there is something I need you to do first.”

Your brows knitted. “What is that?”

“I’m a very... particular person. As I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Chrollo explained, “And I want to make sure everything is just right.”

Your heart dropped a little bit. “Am... Am I not good enough for you?”

Chrollo shook his head and placed a hand over yours, comforting your nerves. “Not at all, my love. Quite the opposite actually. I love you so much that I don’t want anything to get in the way of our relationship.”

You nodded, feeling slightly relieved. “What is it? What do you want me to do?”

Chrollo thought about what the best way to explain it was. “I have a friend. He can teach you what I like, much better than I can.” He say the confused look on your face and continued. “You trust me, don’t you y/n?”

“Yes, of course,” you replied instantly. And it was true.

“I know it is an request,” Chrollo went on, “But it is important to me. Everything about you is so perfect. This will simply make sure it stays that way.” He kissed your hand, making your stomach fill with butterflies. “I want you in my life forever. Will you do this for me, my love?”

The way he looked at you and spoke to you made your body feel weak in the best way. The answer was easy for you. “Yes, of course.”

A smile spread across his face. “Excellent.”

A few days later you found yourself in a building outside of the city. It was a bit dumpy on the outside, but the inside was furnished nicely. You were aware that Chrollo engaged in a very secretive business and decided awhile ago not to ask. You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to. It didn’t matter, anyways, you loved him. And he loved that about you.

Chrollo led you into a bedroom, occupied by one other man. You felt a pang of anxiety, not fully knowing what Chrollo meant by being taught what he liked.

“Y/n, this is my friend Feitan,” Chrollo introduced you to smaller man standing before you. The way his cold eyes appraised you sent a shiver down your spine. You said a polite hello, but he was silent. Chrollo continued, “Feitan is on the quiet side, but I trust him completely. He is going to show you what I want.”

Your stomach rolled anxiously. “Wh-what does that mean, exactly?”

Chrollo gave you an almost sympathetic look. “I don’t want to lie to you, my love. I want you to have sex with Feitan. He’s going to... mold you into the exact type of lover I like.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Chrollo was a bit possessive, even early on in your relationship, so you couldn’t believe he was telling you to have sex with another man. Your eyes flicked over to Feitan, his aura making you nervous. “Chrollo I don’t-”

Chrollo gently took your jaw in his hands and turned your face back to his. “I thought you trusted me, love?”

“I do, I ju-”

“It will be okay, I promise. This will make our relationship stronger. Everything will be perfect. You want that, don’t you? You love me, don’t you?” He was so close to you, speaking so softly it made you dizzy. You almost forgot Feitan was there and what this situation was for. You never understood the effect Chrollo had on you, just that it was very strong.

“I do, I love you so much,” you replied.

“If that is true, you’ll do this,” Chrollo replied sweetly, “And I know you will, because I know you love me.”

You nodded. You were nervous, of course, but you couldn’t say to him. “I will, I promise.”

Chrollo smiled. “My good girl.” He kissed your forehead. “Now go sit on the bed, I need to talk to Feitan quickly.” You did as you were told, sitting on the edge of the bed as the two men stepped out side and spoke in hushed tones.

“What rules boss?” Feitan asked.

“Get her how I like them. You know the way,” Chrollo replied, “Do whatever you need to. Choke her or hit her if you need to. Just nothing that will leave a mark, especially not on her face. And don’t cum inside her, that is for me only.”

Feitan nodded. “Understood.”

With that, the smaller man slipped back inside the room. Your anxiety spiked being alone with him. He pulled his jacket down, revealing his full face. He actually quite handsome, almost similar to Chrollo. He, however, looked more cold and harsh than your boyfriend did. He was silent as he approached you, appraising your body language. He could tell you were nervous, which excited him.

“Take clothes off,” he stated. With you on the bed and him standing he was able to look down on you.

“I don’t-”

Before you could finish your sentence he gripped your jaw. “It not a request.” You nodded, shaking. He was not someone you wanted to challenged. You slowly took off your shirt, then your pants. You reluctantly went for your bra, but he grabbed your arm. “I do that. You undress me now.”

You nodded, your voice still feeling lodged in your throat. You were just happy to have the focus be on something other than you. You stripped off his jacket, shirt and pants, leaving him in his underwear. “Good,” he said before climbing on top of you.

Your body instinctively shrunk away from him, which made him scowl. “You treat me like Chrollo. You would not hide from him.” He place his hands on your shoulders, pressing your body into a more relaxed position on the mattress.

“I’m sorry I- this is just hard for me,” you admitted.

“If you listen it will be easy,” he replied. He placed a kiss to the center of you check. “Chrollo will mark you here.” He kissed the top of your breast that your bra didn’t cover. “And here.” He kissed your neck. “And here. And you’ll let him.”

“O-okay,” you replied.

“Now we kiss.” He pressed his lips to yours, which were warmer than you thought they were going to be. Still, you felt you couldn’t kiss him back, your lips feeling glued shut. Feitan’s hand wrapped around your neck, making you gasp. Feitan laughed, licking into your mouth. “If you kiss Chrollo like that, he won’t like.” Feitan tightened his hand around your throat, choking you slightly.

You kept your eyes closed and tried to pretend you were kissing Chrollo. It was hard at first, especially with Feitan tightening his hand more. “Do better.” Eventually you were able to get into a rhythm; you knew you were doing it right when Feitan loosened his grip.

His grip loosening, however, meant dipping lower to your chest. He squeezed at your boobs over your bra for a moment, before taking it off. You couldn’t help yourself, you moved to cover yourself. Feitan, of course did not allow it. He gripped your arms and pinned them above your head, tsking. “You are slow learner.”

Feitan kissed and licked at your breasts and neck. He was very careful not pay attention to too much on one spot, as he did not want to leave a mark. Feitan took any job Chrollo gave him seriously, but especially this one. He knew how much trust Chrollo had to have in him to allow him do this. He would never break the trust, but he would make sure the job was well done. By any means necessary.

“If I release your hands, you will listen?” Feitan questioned.

“Yes,” you replied, still with a shake in your voice.

Feitan did as he said he would. “Put them in my hair. Gentle. Chrollo like that.” You slid your hands into his dark locks, running your fingers through them softly. Feitan went back to kissing you as you did this. He smacked you bare thigh when your lips got too stiff again. You yelped, but continued to kiss him like he wanted. Like Chrollo wanted, you reminded yourself. this was for him.

His hand slid down your body, between your thighs. Your legs shut, making him slap your thigh again and roughly pry them open. “Stop fighting.” He ran his hand over your clothed cunt. You focused on kissing him and running your hands through his hair as he touched you. His rubbed your clit through the fabric. You were surprised how it made your stomach curl, how it felt... good.

It made it a little easier to kiss him and touch him. You let your hands wander a little further down his back, making him hum in approval. You gasped when his finger slipped inside you, but recovered quickly. Feitan curled his finger into a spot that made your breath go ragged. He pumped his fingers faster, your cunt getting wetter by the minute. Your brain was a confused mess. On one hand it was weird to be touched by this stranger, on the other it did feel good.

Feitan slid in a second finger and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. Feitan gripped your jaw. “Don’t be quiet. He’ll wanna hear.” Feitan scissored your his fingers inside you, stretching you out. This time you let a moan slip from your lips. “Good.” He pulled his fingers out of you and put them in front of your lips. “Now suck.”

You took in his fingers, sucking at them. “More.” He shoved them deeper in your mouth, making you gag a little. You tried to correct yourself quickly, letting your tongue roll up and down the length of them, tasting yourself. Feitan yanked your underwear off and it took everything in you not to hide yourself. You felt so exposed under his gaze.

As he stripped off his underwear and climbed on top of you, the reality of what was about to happen set in and you started to panic. “No!” you cried trying to close your legs. It was no use, Feitan was so much stronger than you. He dug his nails into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, making you wince.

“You obey, not fight,” Feitan growled, bullying his way between your legs. You brought your hands up and start smacking his chest and shoving him away. A sudden, swift slap to your face stunned you into stillness. Your face stung as he gave you a look that struck fear into you. He gripped your jaw achingly tight and got in your face. “Chrollo never love you like this. He want girl who behave. Who listens.”

“But-” He dug his nails into your thigh more, making you yelp.

“And you never say no to Chrollo,” he practically spat. He released his grip on you, but his gaze kept you pinned in place. “You going to behave now? Or do I tell Chrollo you don’t love him enough.”

You gulped. “P-please don’t.”

“Then shut up and take it,” he replied, flipping you in your stomach. “You can’t be trusted on back.” He took both go your hands in one of his, holding them to your lower back, effectively making you immobile. You felt the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance, covering himself in your slick. He gave you no warning when he pressed into you, making you gasp.

Despite his smaller stature, his cock stretched your cunt. You whined as he thrust into you, not giving you any time to adjust. A slap came down on your ass. “Arch back more.” His free hand went down the length of your spine, putting you into place. The new position allowed him to get deeper inside you, hitting a spot that made you see stars. “Feels better for him. And you.” He was right, it felt so good. Your pussy throbbed with each brush of his cock at that sweet spot.

When you bit your lip to stifle a moan, you earned another sharp slap to your ass. You opened your mouth to cry out in pain, but it turned into a damn near pornographic moan as Feitan pounded you through it. “Like that. Let me hear.”

He continued to pound into you rough and hard. You knew you should hate it, that it shouldn’t feel so good, but god it did. You weren’t even faking your moans, they were all real reflections of the pleasure he gave you. Just when you thought it couldn't get more intense, his free hand snaked around to play with your clit.

“Fuck Feitan!” you cried out. You were on the precipice of an orgasm when he pulled his hand away, making you whine.

“You want to cum? Beg.”

“Please!” Another hard slap on your ass.

“Better than that.”

You begged, desperately, “Please Feitan! Please! Let me cum. I need to!”

“Good.” His hand was back on your clit, rubbing rough circles. “Now cum.” Your body responded immediately, tensing then melting into a deep, euphoric state. You were sure to moan loudly, to show him just how good it felt. You have heard him say good again, but your mind was too foggy to be sure. All you know is that he didn’t slap you again, so you must be doing something right.

Feitan pulled out of you quickly, spilling his cum on your ass and back with a low groan. He very much enjoyed when Chrollo gave him jobs like this. “Chrollo will cum inside. And you let him.” You nodded, feeling hazy and spent. Your body collapsed on to the bed as Feitan got up. He tossed a towel at you and told you to clean yourself up. You did your best to wipe his release off yourself as he dressed and disappeared out of the room.

You were just finished dressing when the door opened again. This time it was your boyfriend. “Chrollo!” you cried out with relief. You ran to him, hugging him tightly. He chuckled lightly; you played right into his plan. He knew Feitan would be rough with you and knew that would make you love his gentleness towards you even more. It was just another way to manipulate you into believing he was a good guy, to make you desperate for his approval.

“My sweet girl,” he hummed rubbing your head. “Feitan said you did good. Just a few more lessons and you’ll be perfect. I'm so proud of you, angel.”

You sniffled. “Really?”

“Of course,” Chrollo replied, giving you a chaste kiss. “I know you must really love me to do this. It makes me so happy. I hope you know I love you, too. All of the is for us, for out relationship.”

Maybe if you weren’t in such as haze you’d realize how ridiculous this all was. Or if you weren't s enamored with him. But both of those things blinded you. “I do love you! I know you love me too. I’ll do anything, I’ll learn fast. I promise.”

You returned to Feitan’s bed handful of more times over the next few weeks. He taught you to be the perfect lover for Chrollo, someone who submits fully and is eager to please. Overtime you found the lessons to be easier, even enjoyable. Well, maybe that was too strong of a word, but they were pleasurable. Feitan wasn’t gentle with you, but the more you learned and complied, the less he hit or was unnecessarily rough. You couldn’t deny that Feitan knew what he was doing.

Your favorite part, however, was how Chrollo treated you after. You lived for the praise he showered you with, how he kissed and held you. You never once doubted that he loved you, despite handing you over to Feitan. Your hard work paid off when Feitan finally told Chrollo you were ready.

You were a mix of nervous excitement as Chrollo led you to his bedroom. The two of you went out to dinner to celebrate and now it was time to show him you could be the perfect girl for him. You knew Feitan taught you well, but you couldn’t help but be a little nervous.

Chrollo’s lips found yours as you settled into the bed. Your lips moved against his with ease. You parted your mouth slightly, allowing your tongues to swirl together.

“Take your clothes off, my love,” Chrollo whispered in your ear.

“Yes sir,” you replied. You slid out go your dress, letting him admire the lingerie he bought for the occasion.

“All off.”

“Yes sir.”

Your cheeks flushed as you removed the final article of clothings covering you. Chrollo’s gaze was definitely softer than Feitan’s, but it still made your stomach flutter with nerves. You kept a brave face, letting him look without covering anything.

Chrollo smiled. “So beautiful,” he crawled on top of you, kissing your breasts. “My beautiful girl.” He sucked at the skin, in a way that would definitely leave a mark. “And all mine.” He continued kissing, sucking, licking up your chest and neck. You slid your hands through his hair, pressing your body into his touch. Chrollo hummed approvingly. “I allowed Feitan to touch you, but you’re mine. Everyone will know it. You want that right, baby? To be mine?”

“Yes!” you practically cried out as he sucked on a sensitive part of your neck. “’M all yours. Only yours.”

“Good girl,” he purred. He kissed you again as his hand traveled down you body. You slid your thighs open, allowing him access to your throbbing cunt. His fingers slid through you, letting your arousal coat them. “Soaked for me already? Didn’t realize you were so desperate for me.”

“Need you so b-oh,” your sentence died off in a moan as he pressed a finger inside you.

“What's that? I didn’t hear you,” Chrollo mused, pumping his fingers in you. He curled his finger against your sensitive spot, which had you mewling.

“N-need you so bad!” you cried. His thumb made contact with your clit, making your body jolt. Your thighs instinctively wanted to close from the pleasure, but you kept them open, as you knew he wanted.

“Think I wanna taste this pretty pussy. Would you like that, y/n? What my mouth on your cunt?” Chrollo asked, toying with your pussy.

“Yes sir! Want it, want whatever you want,” you replied breathlessly.

Chrollo smiled, loving your desperation, how it was clear you would let him do anything he wanted. He laid between your legs, licking a stripe up your pussy. “Mmm, so sweet.” He went straight to your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud. You didn’t stifle your moans at all. Your hands slid through his hair again, running your nails along the scalp. Chrollo let his tongue tease your hole, while his finger took over at your clit. You rolled your hips into him, grinding your pussy against his face just as Feitan told you to.

Chrollo’s tongue and fingers switched places. He fucked you with his fingers more intensely, giving your pussy a nice stretch.

“P-please, can I cum?” you questioned, trying to desperately to hold on. You did not want to cum before you were allowed. That was a big no.

Chrollo smiled. “Because you asked so nicely.” Your body responded immediately, releasing on his face. Your cried out his name as his tongue flicked your clit through your orgasm. Feitan had made you feel good, but Chrollo made you feel amazing. You knew your love for him made it so much better.

Chrollo sat up, appraising your body. He loved the power of you being naked and him being dressed. He loved that he could already see bruises forming on your neck. How you already looked fucked out from just his tongue. How you were looking up at him, desperate for more, but waiting for him to tell you what to do. He made a mental note to thank Feitan again.

“Undress me.”

You complied immediately. “Yes, sir.” Your body was weak from your orgasm, your hands shaking. Chrollo was amused by how your were so desperate for him that you struggled with he buttons on his shirt. You planted kisses down his body as you removed his clothing, another lesson from Feitan. When he was finally naked, you sat back and waited for his instruction.

Chrollo climbed back on top of you and you parted your legs for him dutifully. He teased his type at your hole. “Beg for it.”

“Please Chrollo! Want you so bad,” You begged, “Need you. Only you. Please let me make you feel good!”

Chrollo made a noise of approval. “Such a good girl for me.” He slid his cock into you, making you gasp. He was definitely a little bigger than Feitan, giving you a stretch. He pushed himself in slower than Feitan did, but didn’t give you much time to adjust. He rolled his hips against your yours, his paces quickly increasing.

His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly. His thumb brushed against your lower lip. You parted your lips, allowing him to slip the digit in. You sucked on it, keeping your eyes on his. You could feel Chrollo’s cock throb, egging you on. You began rolling your hips up to meet his, just like Feitan taught you.

“Fuck, I love you angel,” Chrollo groaned, “Knew you’d be my perfect girl.” He slipped his thumb out of your mouth, but kept his hand wrapped around your throat. You moaned, despite his grip getting tighter around you. That combined with him pounding into your pussy made you teeter close to edge.

“Chrollo I-nngh ‘m close,” you gasped. “Please can I cum?”

Chrollo dipped in to kiss you before responded, “Yes baby. Cum on my cock.” Your head lolled back as your second orgasm flooded your body. His name slipped from your lips in a desperate moan as the pleasure had you seeing stars. Chrollo fucked you through it, your spasming walls eventually pushing him over the edge. He moaned your name - the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard - filling your pussy with his warm release. His final way to fully claim you as his.

He didn’t pull out even when you both finished, leaning in to kiss you more. “I love you so much, you were so perfect,” he praised between kiss. “And now you’re mine. Forever.”

#I didn't know how to end it #so slay #hope you enjoyed #bc this was hard to write for some reason #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo smut #chrollo hcs #chrollo x y/n #feitan smut #feitan x reader #feitan hc #feitan headcanons #hxh x reader #hxh smut #hxh headcanons

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gyuhanniescarat · 1 year

Text

King of My Heart

happy birthday to my one and only, the loml, my mingoo, my GyuGyu <3 <3

• pairing: kim mingyu x afab!reader

• genres/tropes: smut (MDNI — If you’re not 18+, then see yourself to the door n let it kick ya on the way out, ‘mkay), fluff, established relationship, slice of life, idol mingyu, non-idol reader

• warnings: cross-mix of cute domestic smut with pure, utter filth, slight sub!gyu moment (reader calls gyu ‘baby boy’ like once), love-drunk reader, love-drunk n pussy-whipped gyu, insanely — slightly unnecessary — excessive use of petnames (reader calls gyu ‘babe’, ‘gyu’, ‘gyugyu’; gyu calls reader ‘angel’, ‘princess’, ‘baby girl’, ‘darlin’, ‘baby’), daddy kink, dirty talk, slight mean!dom mingyu (Mingyu is a fucking MENACE here), oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), hair pulling (m receiving), praise kink (we all know Mingyu is a sucker for some praise) bulge kink, size kink (Sry not Sry, I am one of if not THE main proprietor of the MINGYU MONSTER COCK agenda), breeding kink (be safe, stay protected from babies and STI’s when intimate with a partner y’all), talks of pregnancy — no actual impregnation tho — let me know if i missed something luvvies!

• word count: 4.2k and some change

• request: no

• a/n: It’s the loml’s bday!!! Happy Mingyu day! I’ve had this blog for a year, and I just realized this is the FIRST full fic I’ve written for my favorite boy. This piece took on a mind of its own for real and became so so much more than I'd initially intended, but I guess that's to be expected when it comes to writing about Kim Mingyu. Tagging my fellow resident Gyuldaengie of the svthub server @onlymingyus out of love <3

You’re hard at work in the kitchen finishing dinner prep, when suddenly, you get pulled from your focus by the loud sound of the door to your and Mingyu’s shared apartment slamming open and shut. Gyu sluggishly glides into the living room, haphazardly tossing his bags on top of the coffee table. He unleashes a deep, exasperated sigh as his long and slender fingers run through his hair, his statuesque, athletically strong-built physique finally giving in to the utter exhaustion as he ungracefully plops into the couch.

From your position at the kitchen island, you watch Mingyu with worry as the sight of his tousled jet-black locks, bloodshot dark brown eyes, and rumpled clothes comes into view. As he stares off into the distance, one hand reaches up to rub away at his cheeks and jawline. Gently wiping your sauce and frosting-covered fingers off on the kitchen towel hanging over the oven door handle, you set aside the prepped meal and softly waltz over towards the couch.

“Gyu? You okay, babe? How did the recording session and dance practice filming go?” You question, resting a hand on your boyfriend’s knee as you sweetly gaze into his weary eyes. Mingyu’s hand reaches down to intertwine with the hand you placed on his knee and pulls you into his embrace. Basking in the warmth his muscular upper torso gives off, you wait for Mingyu to find the words to express what caused him to return home completely worn out. Breathing in the lingering, sweet scent of your rose-scented shampoo, Mingyu tries to calm himself down before he speaks, as he vowed to himself he’d never ever take out any negative emotions on you.

“Ughh, honestly… I’m beat, angel. It feels like I’m gonna drop dead any minute now. Recording wasn’t too bad, actually. But the dance practice was an absolute hellfire. We had to do so many fucking takes in order to make the choreography look its 10000% best. Sorry, I got home later than usual, princess.” Gyu starts off ranting, but ends, speaking to you like you hold the answers to all the stresses in his world. The way you grin so widely and gaze at him in pure love and adoration doing everything to heal Mingyu’s heart and mind from the chaos of his daily routine.

“Silly, silly boy. You don’t got nothin’ to apologize for, Gyu. I’m just glad you’re finally home, baby boy. Been waiting to snuggle with my GyuGyu and spend the rest of your special day together. It sucks when you have schedules on your birthday, but I hope some dinner and cake as we watch your favorite movie can make up for all the not-so-fun things you had to do today.” You giggle lightheartedly into his chest, glancing up into his chocolate eyes as your hands mischievously trace random shapes into his chest over his tight white t-shirt. Your mischievousness rubs off onto Mingyu as you note a shift in his now darkening eyes.

“Mhmm… as nice as an evening of dinner and a movie with my girl sounds… as hungry and thirsty I am for one of your home-cooked meals, there’s something else I’m feeling more hungry and thirsty for right now, baby girl.” Mingyu huskily growls, hands slipping under your frilly bustier and coming up near the hook of your blush lace push-up bra. “Mingyu” you whine out. “Ah, ah, ah. You should be saving those sweet, addictive noises for later, princess.” Mingyu lowly whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine from both his words and the warmth of his breath near your ear.

“I thought you were tired from work, Gyu? We… we don’t have to… if you’re feeling worn out from practice, babe.” You stammer out, nervously and innocently, eyes shifting away from making contact with Mingyu’s. Mingyu lightly chuckles and brings a hand under your chin, compelling you to look into his eyes, “I may be dead-tired, but I’m never too tired to take good care of my number one girl. Let me worship you and your stunning body, angel, ‘mkay?” “O-O-Okay, GyuGyu.”

“Mmph. You know ‘GyuGyu’ or ‘Mingyu’ isn’t my name right now, yea. What’s my special name during sexytime, princess? C’mon, say it for me. I know you can say it.” Mingyu prompts. “S-sorry d-d-daddy. I’ll be your good baby now.” You shyly mumble, still not confident in saying the pet name, despite all the years you’ve been having sex with your boyfriend. “Of course, you’ll be a good baby for daddy. You’re my cute, precious little baby girl, right? You want to make daddy feel good and have daddy make you feel good, yea?” Mingyu replies, easily picking you up from the couch with little effort.

You’re completely lost in the feelings of kissing Mingyu as he guides you from the living room and down the hall toward your bedroom. You don’t hesitate to help Mingyu out of his clothes along the way, one hand wrapped around his neck as the other hand reaches out to loosen the strings of his black sweats, causing the pair of bottoms to fall to the faux wood floors. Mingyu skillfully steps out of them whilst still enraptured by the spell of your lips. As the kiss deepens to a full-blown makeout session, the hand resting on his neck starts playing with the hair along the nape of his neck.

Mingyu stumbles through the threshold and clumsily tosses you on top of your california king mattress. He stalks towards the vanity area and brings your chair over right in front of the foot of the bed. “Since it’s my birthday, I can make a few wishes, yea, princess? So, my first birthday wish, Take off your clothes. Slowly. Give daddy a lil show, yea?”

“Gy-... Daddyyyy! Please!” You moan, already done with your boyfriend’s teasing foreplay. “Please, what, baby girl.” Mingyu scoffs slightly. “Daddy! I want you. I need you so so so bad right now. Please daddy, help me.” You cry, giving Mingyu your best pouty face. Mingyu looks at you with what you’d hoped was a real bit of giving in, but it’s just his mock sympathy. After all, you of all people should know by now.

Kim Mingyu is a tease. A fucking insufferable, cocky little shit of a tease. And what Kim Mingyu wants… he will get, one way or another.

“Tsk tsk tsk. You know better than that, little girl. Unless… do you want a punishment from daddy, princess? Cuz I can and will punish you, if that’s what you ask for.” Mingyu warns, trying to read your face to see if you’ll actually challenge him when he’s in fully dom mode. Feathery, dark-tinted eyebrows lifting just slightly before drawing together, you curl your soft pink-tinted lips together as you slowly slide deeper into subspace.

You sit up against the headboard, hands lowering down to grab the hem of your bustier and slowly slip it over your head, before randomly throwing the item of clothing somewhere in the room. One of your eyebrows slowly rises as yet another mischievous look pulls across your cute tiny face. “Bra on or off, daddy?” You cheekily question, noting the way Mingyu’s briefs seem to have started getting tight around his massive length. “Off. Take that cute little bra off right now, baby girl. You know how much daddy loves your pretty tits, darlin’.” Mingyu lowly mumbles, gaze intensely locked in on the view of the valley of your breasts.

Reaching back, you slowly and skillfully undo the clasp of your bra. You cutely chuckle to yourself as an idea pops inside your head, leading Mingyu to question what other ‘great’ idea you have up your sleeve. “Princess… what are you up to, huh?” Silently and with a beaming smile, you pull the cups of the bra away from your breasts and throw it right into Mingyu’s empty lap. “What’s this, baby girl?” He chuckles, fangs showing as his head tips back. “A present for daddy.” You answer. Mingyu turns his head in surprise, tongue poking out in response. “Well, thank you, baby. This is one of my favorite little bras of yours, it’s so pretty… but ya know where I think it’d look even prettier?” He rhetorically questions, chocolate eyes darkening to the point they're almost black. Your head tilts to the right in response, like a confused little lab puppy.

“On the floor. With the rest of your clothes, angel. Panties next. I’ll decide later what I wanna do with that cute little frilly skirt. Maybe, I won’t take it off. Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll decide to fuck you in it.” He teases, yet again chuckling at the way your eyes widen in innocence. As if you have any innocence left in you when Mingyu’s been corrupting and intimate with you since the beginning of your relationship.

You gulp and swallow nervously, before gaining the courage to continue. Your hands slide underneath your skirt and up toward the waistband of your undergarment. Slowly, you pull the piece of fabric down your legs and slip it over your feet. Then, taking the lace panties in your hand you fling it into Mingyu’s lap. “Fucking hell. These… You… Oh my god… you fucking soaked through these panties, baby. Tell me, who made you so fucking wet, you ruined your little thong? Huh? Who is it that got you wet, baby girl?” Mingyu teasingly smirks, baiting you once again.

“You… You know, Gyu.” You groan, annoyed. Now it’s Mingyu who playfully tilts his head to the side, acting like the ever-so-cheeky golden retriever he’s always compared to. “I do? Oh, I don’t think so, princess. How can daddy simply read your mind? You gotta use your big girl words if you want daddy to know what you mean.” Mingyu playfully quips, referring to himself in the third person. Thrashing your head side to side and kicking your legs against the mattress, you whine, “You! You, you, you, You! It’s you, daddy! Only you can make me so fucking wet I ruin all my panties. I’m all wet for you, and only you, daddy! Please daddy, please touch me. Please use your fingers, or your mouth, or your c-c-cock… just use whatever you wanna give me!”

Standing up from the chair and coming closer to you, Mingyu grabs at the hem of his white t-shirt and pulls it over his head, exposing his defined pecs and well-chiseled abs to your wandering eyes. Biting down on your lip till you draw crimson and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to stop the gushing from your core, Mingyu throws his head back and deeply laughs at the sight, “Somethin’ caught your eye, baby girl,” “I know you’ve got a lil tiddie, abs, and arm fetish… but damn princess, you’re looking at me like it’s your last meal.”

“Ha, Is it a crime to stare at my man? What can I say? You’re like a fucking model-level attractive, Gyu. You’re hot, sexy, handsome, a talented idol, and you’re so kind, caring, look out for people, and smart. Sometimes, I just can’t believe I’m lucky enough to call you my boyfriend. But, even if you didn’t have the physique of a fucking greek god, I’d still love you.” You giggle, more than happily doting on your man, even during a spicy moment like this.

Mingyu is momentarily thrown off by the sudden sweetness in the air, but his heart swells with pride at the fact that he’s yours and you're his, and only his. Mingyu is truly the lucky one because he gets to call you his baby. “And you’re a fucking gorgeous queen, baby girl. So if anyone’s lucky here, it’s me who’s lucky to be the only man that gets to be with you like this. Now, come here, princess. I wanna taste you so damn bad, I actually just might lose my mind if I have to wait for a second longer.” He commands, nearly pulling you down the bed.

Mingyu lays flat on his stomach at the bottom of the bed, swiftly leaning down to kiss his way up your legs, stopping just near your core as he places a gentle peck on both your left and right inner thigh. “Mhmm… been thinkin’ ‘bout your tight little pussy all day long. Almost had to break away from the members and staff during a snack time, just to slip off to the bathrooms to get myself off on the thought of you, angel. I’ve had a fucking raging hard-on all day. Cheol and Wonu almost interrogated me ‘bout it after practice, baby girl.” He moans lowly, sending vibrations straight to your core.

“M-Min… I- Oh fuck, I need… I-” You shakily moan out, already feeling so incredibly fucked out without any stimulation from Mingyu. Mingyu looks up at the sound of you calling him, and he can’t say the view of you from this angle isn’t having an effect on him at this very moment. “Yeah, princess? Tell me what you need. I got you, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.” He groans, in response to the blissfully fucked out expression on your face. “Please, I need you to… Ahhh shit! I need you to use your tongue and fingers, please Gyu. Prep me to take your big juicy cock, daddy!” Your head falls back against the pillows, hands slowly coming up towards Mingyu’s head and gripping his soft, long, and curly raven locks.

Mingyu places his hands on either side of your hips and pulls your core into his mouth. Pulling his mouth back for a second, he collects a ball of saliva and spits it onto your clit. Strings of residual saliva connect from the corner of his bottom lip to your barren nub. Taking his thumb and placing it onto your clit, he rubs the wet liquid across the expanse of your clit, whilst his long and slender index and middle fingers slip deep into your walls, eventually curling once in deep, “Shit. Tight, so tight, so warm and wet, princess. No matter how many times I use my fingers on you, your tight little pussy somehow gets even tighter around my fingers. Fuck, I’m going to ruin this tiny pussy.”

“Gyu! Oh my god… ahhh ngggh… shit! M-More, I need more daddy! Pleaseeee.” You whine, the pitch of your voice growing higher. “More? You’ve already got two of my fingers deep in your pussy, and my tongue flicking your clit. What more do you need, princess?” Mingyu questions, momentarily pulling his tongue away from your sensitive nub. “I need more. Feels like ‘m gonna cum soon. Please give me another finger, I can take it, daddy. You know I can take it.” You beg, lightly pulling on a few strands of his hair. “Okay. Daddy’ll give you what you want. Say ‘thank you’, baby girl.” Mingyu replies, smirking at how you become increasingly more fucked out.

“Thank you, daddy! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…. T-th-thank you. You’re so good to me daddy. It feels so fucking good. You make me feel so fucking good, daddy!” You moan out, like a mantra. Ever the people pleaser he is, your praises go in one direction… and that’s… straight to Mingyu’s big fat dick. The praise you give him damn near snaps the last bits of his resolve and willpower. Reminding you to continue taking slow, deep breaths, Mingyu gently slips a third finger into the walls of your pussy and rubs circles along your clit with his thumb. “Let it go, angel. Cum for me, baby girl. Cum all over my fingers and the sheets. You know you want to, darlin’.” Like magic, Mingyu’s words do just the trick to compel your body to jump over the edge of ecstasy. Your orgasm hits hard, splotches of white dots lining your vision for a minute. Your climax is so intense your thighs uncontrollably shake. “That’s it, princess. Just like that, yea. Cum for me, keep cumming for me, baby girl. I promise your next orgasm is gonna feel all the more better.” Mingyu coos, coaxing you through the aftershocks of your climax.

Vision finally clearing up, coming back down to the space of your shared bedroom, you take deliberate breaths, steering yourself away from any haze and overstimulation. “Fucking hell, Gyu. That was fucking otherworldly how you did that.” You laugh, pulling your tall, muscular, long-limbed man back up the length of the bed, and directing his lips toward yours. “You taste sweeter than the sweetest fruit, baby girl. Can you taste yourself on my lips still?” Mingyu praises, laying the endless nothings on thick, as his hands rub circles into your hip bones. “Shit, I do taste good, don’t I, daddy…” You giggle, licking your lips and blissfully beaming at the man hovering above you. “You taste so fucking good, darlin’. I’d honestly eat you out all damn day if I could.” He chuckles, wholeheartedly laughing with his whole chest.

“Your turn now, daddy. I wanna return the affection and make you feel good too. Second wish, daddy? Anything you want?” You ponder. Mingyu suspiciously hmms, pretending to be thinking about what he wants, when he clearly already knows and more likely than not has known exactly what he’s wanted since the moment he stepped through the door of your apartment tonight.

What Kim Mingyu wants, he will get, one way or another.

“Hmm… while the idea of your pretty lips wrapped around my cock does sound quite nice, I have other plans. I need to be buried balls deep inside of your tight little pussy, my cock making your cute tummy bulge from how deep inside I am, feeling your tight, tiny walls clenching down on my cock, as I breed you nice and full… filling your little cunt with my cum till my seed takes and knocks you up. I wanna make you a cute little mommy. Your petite little frame would look so cute with a round stomach full of my babies, your pretty tits growing as your milk comes in. You’d be the prettiest, sexiest little mama alive. Don’t you want my babies, princess? Imagine it, baby girl.” Mingyu suggests, knowing you’ve always had an infinity for babies and motherhood.

Throwing your head back deeper into the pillows, you bite down on your lips, hard, in an attempt to stifle the feral moans threatening to spill their way out your lips. “Oh-ho-ho, you’re getting turned on by the idea of carrying my babies, and being my hot little baby momma, aren’t you, baby? Should I make you a momma then, angel?” He chuckles, in response to the way you moan and seemingly tighten around his length at the thought.

“Gyu! Gyu, Oh god, yes, yes, yes! Mhmm… Ohh fuck, Ohh fuck, Ohhhhh fuckkk! So fucking good. You’re always so fucking good to me, daddy! God yes, don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop! You’re so fucking big, Gyu! Oh god, it’s like your cock is gonna rearrange my guts and tear me open. Just like that, daddy! Just like that. Oh, fucking shit! I love you, Kim Mingyu. I love feeling your cock so deep inside of my little pussy.” You repeatedly moan, deep in subspace and even deeper in a hormone-filled daze. Nails alternating between gripping tightly onto Mingyu’s beefy biceps and roaming his back muscles.

“Your tiny little pussy is so greedy for my cum, darlin’. Your wet, tight cunt is sucking me in so deep, Don’t you feel it? Look, baby, look at how desperately your pussy wants me inside.” Mingyu grunts, grabbing one of your hands and trailing it down in the direction of your stomach and core. “Ya feel that, baby girl. Can you feel your cute little stomach bulging every time I push my cock deeper inside you? I’m in so deep, it feels like my cock is gonna hit your cervix for sure. Your tiny cunny is working overtime just to take my whole cock inside you, but even though I’m stretching your tight little walls out to the max right now, we all know your perfect little pussy is just gonna tighten up even more again.”

“Fu-ff-fuck… Oh my fucking god! I- M-Mm… Mingyu! ‘M gonna, ‘m gonna… Oh my god! Aaaahhhh…. Ngggghhh. D-dd-don’t… mhmm fuck! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, Oh god! Mingyu, don’t you dare fucking stop. Don’t fucking stop, just like that, fuck… Just like that, daddy! Oh my god, Gyu, it’s so fucking good. I feel so fucking good… so so so fucking good. Your cock feels so fucking good inside me. I’m… mhmm shit, shit, shit! I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours! I’m yours and only yours, forever okay…” You loudly cry, tears spilling down your eyes from the mix of the intense pleasure coursing through your veins and the strong, overflowing love you feel for Kim Mingyu.

“Damn right you are, angel. Mine! You’re mine forever and I’m only yours. I love you so much, y/n. Thank you for being with me all this time, thank you for giving me the great privilege of getting to be with you, of getting to call you my one and only baby. Thank you, baby girl.” Mingyu softly whispers, gently caressing your face and lovingly gazing into your eyes like you’re the only girl in his world.

“You said you wanna make me your hot little baby mama, yeah?” You ask so casually, throwing the usually confident, cocky little shit off his game. Taken aback by the out-of-the-blue line of questioning, Mingyu is frozen in place for a moment. His chocolate eyes widened in sheer surprise and disbelief at the string of words he just heard. Yes, he has thought hundreds, thousands, perhaps even millions of times about the idea of further making you his girl by impregnating you with his ropes of cum. He’d have to be a damn fool to not have an unspoken desire to see you pregnant with his child.

“I… It-It w-ww-was.. ‘nt… I... are you sure princess?” He stammers, nervously, feeling his blood run cold as he simultaneously feels beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. You lightheartedly giggle, as a wide, bright smile etches across your face, your legs working to wrap around your boyfriend’s waist and trap the man in your embrace. “Gyu, I told you. I love you. I’m yours, only yours. Would it be such a bad idea if we started trying to have a family of our own? I wanna have your babies, Gyu. I wanna make you a daddy for real.” You sweetly admit.

“Of course, I’ve thought many times about you being pregnant with my children. I’d be a fool not to think about how you’d be and look with a child, with my child, our child, but this relationship is a two-person team. So, I don’t wanna put you in any position where it feels like you don’t have a say. I’m just trying to make sure you really want this, baby. As hot as the idea of me possibly knocking you up is, it’s way more than that. Pregnancy is no joke, baby girl. What do you think, angel? I’m open to the idea of trying if that’s something you’re also open to.” Mingyu confesses, nerves running rogue and heart beating a million miles a minute. “Hmm…” You trail off, both mimicking Mingyu’s earlier action and actually giving deep thought to the idea of a family with Mingyu.

“I’m open to it, Gyu. We’re two hot ass people, so our babies would be some pretty and handsome as hell little humans. I wanna have your babies, Gyu. Now, cum for me, babe. Cum inside me, breed me nice and full, daddy! Make me a hot little baby mama, and I’ll make you a hot, sexy ass dilf that all the guys wish they were, and all the girls wish they could get with. Make me yours even more, daddy. Breed me, fill my tiny cunt with every last drop of your hot, thick cum. Breed me, daddy.” You sultrily moan, pulling Mingyu in closer despite already being pressed up right against each other.

“Ohh fuck! You’re gonna be the death of me one day, princess.” Mingyu groans, throwing his head back. “What an iconic way to kick the bucket, babe.” You giggle brightly, kissing and licking a trail of love bites down the side of his neck and along his clavicles. “Oh my god, you’re a menace, a little vixen.” Mingyu feigns shock. “Uhh…. excuse me! I’m the menace?! You, sir… Oh, let’s see… who’s the one that pulled us both away from the notion of having the dinner I worked hard to make because they were ‘hungry and thirsty for something else?’ Oh, wait… I do believe that was you who said those very words, Kim Mingyu.” You scoff, in disbelief at your boyfriend.

“I mean… can you really blame me, if I’m about to make you have the fucking orgasm of your life, darlin’? You’re the one who asked to be bred by daddy Gyu.” Mingyu counters, throwing you off your game now.

Kim Mingyu is a tease. A damn menace. A fucking ethereal, otherwordly cross-breed of model-level, actor-level, idol-level visuals and greek god physique. A man who seems too good to be true. But you truly wouldn’t have it any other way. Kim Mingyu is yours and you’re the luckiest person in the world to be his.

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blissfali · 2 months

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I’ve been thinking a lot about Lexi’s stream from yesterday and I just wanted to share my thoughts:

Hearing all the lies Wilbur has told has really like. Well I knew it was bad obviously I knew he was a BAD guy, but hearing the like. Genuine “Women aren’t funny”, just really got me thinking about how much of the platform he built was a lie.

It really hurts because you think of all his songs about all these things that connected with a lot of people, but if he can put on this role of. Actually caring about women’s issues. And it all have been a complete lie, what else has he straight up put on a facade about?

I understand that there is a difference between people and internet personas, but you have to admit that the lengths he went to are beyond normal. An internet persona is usually just more put together, more energetic, etc. It’s not straight up lying about your opinions in order to please your audience. Like that’s insanely shitty and weird.

Call me parasocial for this but it genuinely makes you wonder how far he went. All of it. I don’t know how to articulate this I might be being too vague. It just makes me think if he was willing to foster this community on safety that he didn’t believe in like… why? For the fame and money? Like is it not just easier to believe those opinions instead of just PRETENDING? How do you go so far lying on being on someone’s side just to say it’s all fake 😭Like at what point is it necessary to truly convince yourself of those things.

And again I understand it’s very easy to lie on the internet about you are. I know that. But just like… the sheer SCALE of it.

He’s always came across as pretty humble on and off of stream, so to hear that he was basically doing it all for the sake of getting money and fame and not a genuine care for creation it just. That fucks you up. I haven’t put as much money into him as other people have and I’m grateful but also. I know if I had had the means to that I would’ve. Why would you manipulate people like that, y’know? It’s just. insane to me.

You play this character on an SMP about someone whose struggling with mental health and suicide, and you turn around and abuse your partner, and you lie to your entire audience, and you hurt others in your life. At what point does it just become too much effort to lie to people like that? Why put up this elaborate facade?

I think I’m going in circles now 😭I just want to know if anyone else feels like this.

#tw abuse #ask to tag #i dont want to tag this the (name) situation bcuz that is insanely disrespectful to me #so if anyone would like me to create a different tag they can block just let me know

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littledovesnow · 4 months

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vows

the wedding vows <3

word count: idk like 1k i think??

a/n: i cried writing this lol, also didn't proof this at all

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“Are you nervous?” You asked, sitting in the bridal suite with your newly minted husband, who kept spinning his new ring adorning his finger.

Shaking his head, he smiled up at you. “Not at all, gorgeous. Are you nervous? I’ve seen you ruminating over the vows since I got down on my knee.”

You felt your cheeks flush, sitting next to Coriolanus on the plush couch. This short period of time is something you and Coriolanus said was a necessity in this special day, wanting time to share vows and have a moment alone before all of the excitement and partying at the reception.

“I’m not entirely too sure if it’s nerves or excitement.” You admitted, fiddling with a loose string on the couch. “I feel like my vows are going to be so terrible, worse than any paper I had in school.”

Coriolanus frowned, squeezing your hand to get your attention. “I’m sure they’re wonderful.”

You gnawed on your lower lip, an awful habit you had developed in your teen years. “Do- do you want me to go first?”

“It’s up to you, my love.” Coriolanus murmured, not wanting to pressure you into anything, something you were so grateful he did.

“I think, I think I want you to go first.”

Nodding, Coriolanus pulled out the crumpled paper, eliciting a quiet laugh from you.

“Don’t laugh, my love is written on this paper.”

You held your hands up, your heart already swelling with love at the sight of the blonde man, who seemed just like the lanky acne-faced classmate you met all those years ago.

Clearing his throat, Coriolanus looked down at the paper for a moment, before saying your name in the velvety-smooth voice he used only when he was with you.

“I feel like I can conquer the world when you’re next to me, the love and strength you show is one of my favorite things about you. From when we were assigned lab partners, to mentoring at the Hunger Games, to being granted internships at the Citadel, you’ve always been the light I’m drawn to as a moth is to a flame. Thank you for loving me in my weakest times, for loving me when I was undeserving, I know that I’m not the easiest person to love. Thank you for always helping me be the best version of myself, for being the sole voice of reason in the echo chamber that is my life.”

You sniffled, Coriolanus glancing up at you with a soft smile before continuing his vows.

“From when you first came into my life, and didn’t bat an eye at my upbringing, my home, my family, I knew you were the one who would become my other half. You always treat Grandma’am and Tigris with the respect and love they deserve, for that I owe you my life. I vow to always put you first, I vow to keep you out of harm’s way, and I vow to be the best husband I can be. I vow to be the best father I can be, when the times comes, and I know you’ll be the world’s most amazing mother. I vow to love you without any reservations, to always be the reason for your gorgeous smile. I love you, my love.”

You were full-on crying when Coriolanus ended his vows, and he quickly exchanged the paper for the cloth napkins on the table, picking up the one that already had mascara stains on it from earlier.

“I love you, too, Coryo.” You mumbled, scooting over on the couch to hug your husband. “I love you so much.”

You two had a small moment of peace, before you sniffled and sat up, preparing yourself for your own vows.

Coriolanus gave your knee an encouraging squeeze, knowing you weren’t a fan of speeches in general, whether they be in front of large audiences or family friends.

“Coryo,” you started, knowing he wasn’t the biggest fan of when you said his full name, but you knew he would never react harshly to you. “From the day we first met, I felt like a magnet drawn to you. You wanted nothing to do with me, but I was determined to break you, to see the real you under the tough, serious exterior you’ve built up. And I am so glad I did, so glad I got to meet the real you, the Coryo who will laugh at my corny jokes, who will never complain when I steal the comforter in bed, who will take a bullet for me. You understand me, see me, accept me in a way that no one has before, you are truly my best friend, and I feel like the world’s luckiest woman to be able to call you my husband. I vow to always be your confidante, your partner-in-crime. I vow to have the patience that love demands, to always listen before reacting, to give you my whole heart. You are my person, my lover, my life, today, tomorrow, forever. I love you, Coriolanus Snow, you hold the key to my heart.”

Coriolanus’ eyes were glistening when you looked up from your paper, and you just barely saw his lip quivering.

“Do you mean that?” He asked softly, not wanting to break the serene moment.

Nodding, you gave him a watery smile, a fresh wave of tears spilling onto your cheeks. “Of course I mean it, you goon.”

Coriolanus pulled you up, wanting to properly hug you, inhaling the fresh vanilla and chai from your shampoo. “You are the reason my heart beats.”

“As are you, Coryo,” you replied, smiling as his lips met yours.

“Now, let’s give the Capitol the wedding reception of their lives.” You laced your fingers with Coriolanus’, his wedding band cool on your own fingers.

“After you, Mrs. Snow.” Coriolanus smiled, eyes glinting with hunger as he called you by your new surname for the first time.

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a/n: okay you're all so lucky this was requested i saved you form angst like coryo saved lucy gray

but for real there's some good angst coming in the new year

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games tbosas #hunger games x reader #hunger games imagine

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eyesxxyou · 7 months

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Cybersex (Teaser)

★‧₊˚ 💋⋅ hobie brown x camgirl!reader

rating. m

word count. n/a

synopsis. hobie decides he needs a change in his career. that's where you come in, a camgirl he plans to make a sextape with.

🍓・．❕warnings. mentions of cocaine usage, mentions of making a sex tape, more to (cum)e

Hobie really fucked up according to his manager. If you asked him, he did nothing wrong. It was perfectly normal for a rockstar to be doing coke in the bathroom of a venue in his opinion but for some reason it had caused a lot of controversy. It’s not like he was addicted or anything, that time being only the second time he’s ever done it but his manager put out a statement that he would be taking a break from his tour in order to attend rehab. Which he did and it sucked. He was in for 2 months, “working on himself” supposedly.

“Why’d ya do it?” His manager asked him as they sat side by side in the back of his car, his driver taking him home from rehab after 2 of the longest months of his life. “I mean– you have all anyone could ever want. So why?”

It was such a stupid question that deserved the half-assed answer Hobie gave. He just shrugged and grunted. Why did he do it? To escape this fad of a life. This was never what he wanted, all of this. This expensive car, a designated driver, a manager. This was never what he fucking wanted. Somehow, in his pursuit for success, he lost everything that made him who he was, lost his initial values. He was nothing but a poser now.

He was done being a poser. He’d get back to his original self somehow, some way.

So the moment they got back to his boat, Hobie fired his manager as well as his chauffeur. “Take the car wit’cha.” It was the best decision he could have made for himself, for his dwindling career. He had to get back to his roots, just him making music on his boat with his guitar and his mates.

He needed something to reignite his career, to appeal to the crowd who once supported him for being a voice against authority and establishment. The coke incident had riled people up, weeded out the posers from the real deal. He needed something more.

That’s where you came in.

“So you need my help to get your career back on track…how exactly? By having sex with me?” You sat across from Hobie inside a bar you two agreed to meet at. You were a pretty girl, gorgeous actually, with make up that told him “I put in effort, just not for this” and a pretty, delicate, white dress, black shawl, platform, leather boots, and a long rosary around your neck, though something told him you weren’t catholic. It could be the extensive history of porn you have online.

You were a camgirl. And he was a fan. Turns out, you were a fan of his too.

Hobie bought you a drink and a couple shots for you to share. You teased a cherry between your faded glossed lips and used your tongue to tie the stem into a knot. He liked you, liked you a lot. You were perfect for the job.

“By leakin’ mw own sex tape.” Hobie corrected you. “‘M jus’ tryna stir the pot. Drum up some interest, y’know?” You of all people would know better than the rest. Your entire career was built on this. You were a master at it. He was right to come to you.

“Bu’, Ion wan ya to think ya haf’ to. The offer’s on the table.”

“I know I don’ have to do anything.” He liked your attitude, the twang of your accent in your pretty voice. He understood why you had so many fans, you were borderline perfect, pretty lips, pretty eyes. He’s watched some of your videos, with partners and alone, you’re so captivating. He was an instant fan. “I just want to make sure I understand before I agree to anything.”

You leaned in with your chin resting upon your hand with your elbow on the splintering wood of the bar counter. “I’ll do it, just ‘cause I think you’re pretty.” You stood up, even while sitting down, his abnormally tall body towered over your. “I’ve got rules though, strict rules, not even a pretty boy like you can pass them.” Your hands were on his thighs as you looked up at him. He could kiss you now if he wanted to, but he waited to hear these rules of yours.

“You have to use a condom.”

“Done, already got one.” Hobie assured you. He always carried one with him just in case.

You chuckled a bit, “Good for you. We also have to do it at a hotel, you pay. I don’t wanna be at your place and I don’t want you at mine.” Hobie also liked how serious you were, how you didn’t play about your business. He appreciated it, found it a little hot too. How in the world was he supposed to keep his hands off of you until then? “FIne by me.”

“FInally, no catching feelings.”

Hobie began to laugh, a snarky grin growing across his full, pierced lips. “Confident, are ya? You don’ haf’ta worry about nothin’ like tha’, luv. I’m just attracted to you.” He reached out and pushed some of your hair back behind your ear. He leaned in close, his breath fanning your lips until he touched his lips with yours and kissed you softly. You didn’t kiss him back.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, Brown but I’m not with it. Text me the details when you get them.” You pulled away from him with a scoff and tapped his cheek softly with your hand before grabbing a shot, tossing it back down your throat before walking off to take your leave.

Full Version

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #hobie brown #atsv #spiderman #spider punk #hobie brown fic #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie broen x camgirl!reader

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hotvintagepoll · 9 days

Text

Propaganda

Josephine Baker (The Siren of the Tropics, ZouZou)— Josephine Baker was an American born actress, singer, and utter icon of the period, creating the 1920s banana skirt look. She was the first black woman to star in a major motion film. She fought in the French resistance in WWII, given a Legion of Honour, as well as refusing to perform in segregated theatres in the US. She was bisexual, a fighter, and overall an absolutely incredible woman as well as being extremely attractive.

Anne Baxter (The Ten Commandments, All About Eve)—her soft, gentle voice in "all about eve", those gentle eyes with something odd behind them, the way she flips from Sweet Innocent to Viper on a dime......there was something Built Different about anne baxter, man, and it makes her so good for playing people who are Built Wrong. also one of my favorite batmen villains (her joint episode w vincent price is a delight) and of course I'm obsessed with her columbo episode where she bosses around edith head and does fabulous movie star things for no good reason. and i would be REMISS if i didn't mention her slink—oh the slink—in the ten commandments...................pardon me i must go think of sinning again

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Josephine Baker:

Black, American-born, French dancer and singer. Phenomenal sensation, took music-halls by storm. Famous in the silent film era.

Let's talk La Revue Negre, Shuffle Along. The iconique banana outfit? But also getting a Croix de Guerre and full military honors at burial in Paris due to working with the Resistance.

She exuded sex, was a beautiful dancer, vivacious, and her silliness and humor added to her attractiveness. She looked just as good in drag too.

So I know she was more famous for other stuff than movies and her movies weren’t Hollywood but my first exposure to her was in her films so I’ve always thought of her as a film actress first and foremost. Also she was the first black woman to star in a major motion picture so I think that warrants an entry

Iconic! Just look up anything about her life. She was a fascinating woman.

Anne Baxter:

The prettiest murderer in that film. Just so beautifully evil as Nefertari.

Anne Baxter was part of my Bisexual Awakening. My family has a tradition that every Palm Sunday we watch The ten commandments on TV together... And starting from a very young age, I essentially developed a crushes on Anne Baxter's Nefertiri & Yul Brynner's Ramses. Dude, the woman was HOT! They both were! My crush definitely wasn't helped by the fact that Anne Baxter's costumes were a bit on the sheer side. She had a way of capturing you with her eyes, and I never understood why Charlton heston's Moses didn't just have a threesome with Nefertiri and Ramses. LOL

Her Nefertiri in The Ten Commandments was FORMATIVE TO ME. If not the hottest old movie lady, then she definitely played the hottest old movie character. if that makes sense.

Look. Listen. I only *just* discovered her on a post from the Have You Seen This Romcom poll blog. Saw she had the same last name as me and went OOH hi hello. Went to her IMdB and saw she was born in Indiana like moi. I am now even more intrigued. Been eagerly telling my partner this, and he was like "maybe you guys are distantly related?" And after 2 hrs of going down the tumblr tag + her imdb photos, I'm In Deep(tm) and I can't stop looking at her like 😍 When I go to my grandma's house, bet your ass I'm gonna check my grandpa's genealogy and see if we're somehow related. Sorry that's not really propaganda I just got real excited, esp when I saw that the submission deadline was extended (bless your soul). Narrowing down the movies where she's hottest in was Hell tyvm. I've only just discovered her, she looks gorgeous to me in every movie still I see of her gdi lol.

#josephine baker #anne baxter #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 4

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haechvn · 1 year

Text

Stop Trying

Pairing: Shuri x F!Reader

Warning: Prepare to get your heart ripped out. Shuri did. The angstiest angst I feel like I’ve ever written.

Word Count: 1.5k+

Summary/Request: Shuri and reader getting into an argument cuz Shuri has been in the lab for a while (2 or 4 days idk) angst ending please

Author’s Note: I wrote this on the plane back from Thanksgiving. I did something like this before but this is more realistic to me and we need Shuri to be held accountable for her actions. The reader is always black in my head y’all. Part 2 is here! Enjoy!!

Taglist: @melodykisses @blackhottie25 @tonakings @coalmistyy @szalipcombo @prettyluhlaiiii @yelenabelovasgf @callmeoncette @clqrosmgc @beautybyfire @theblacksuccubus @cherios @killmongerskeeper @shuris-whore @nut4shuri

“My love. Please reconsider this,” Shuri whispered, hands desperately reaching to grab onto yours with every step you took back. Her shoulders fall when she sees how easily you start to reject her, her body unfamiliar with such obscene behavior. She had never fathomed that there would be a time that you’d ever resist her touch. “Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I need from you.”

It had become less lonely but more disrespectful at this point. Sure, Queen Shuri has many responsibilities since taking on the title as the new sovereign leader of Wakanda but that does not excuse her from halting communication with her partner. The two of you have been together for the last three years so you are overdue an explanation as to why your partner has not answered any calls or text messages. She never even reached out to you once.

Upon discovering from Okoye that it was simply due to her being glued to her science work and her desk in her lab, you decided enough was enough. You are Shuri’s number one cheerleader and you have been since the day you met. Never once did you overstep her boundaries and all you always wanted to make sure she felt heard and seen especially when it comes to her work. But for her to have put her technological achievements over the precious bond the two of you have built, something needs to be done. You didn’t like where your mind went.

It started when she missed dinner with you. Aneka would always try to assure you that “Nothing is wrong my Queen. The Queen will be back soon. Please don’t worry. This too shall pass.”

You continued to find yourself on your own in the excruciatingly large dining hall, eating in silence and scraping your utensils on your plate in annoyance. The Dora had been more present in your life recently than your own lover.

Then one dinner became four and then slowly turned into lonely, sleepless nights. On the fourth night, you found yourself imagining what it felt like to have her arms around you again, lips caressing your collarbone and fingers dipping languidly into your cunt. Then you snapped out of it. As two grown and fully functioning women, there is no reason why Shuri could not have just sent you a quick message to let you know her whereabouts. Constantly reaching out and receiving nothing in return to only stop by her office and find it empty triggered thoughts in your mind you have never had for the entirety of your relationship. Separation. Moving forward without her.

You aren’t some insecure little girl who is going to put up with her time being wasted and have it thrown to the back burner. You are a woman of grace, poise and elegance but you are also a woman with sense and self-respect. Thoughts of infidelity never crossed your mind as you knew Shuri adored you too much to behave in that way but she clearly didn’t adore you enough if giving you radio silence for the third time in a row was something she didn’t mind serving you.

And that’s what lead to Shuri kneeling down in front of you, hands shaking with tears pouring out of her eyes as she tried to come to terms with what you were insinuating. Take a break? Breakup? This is one equation that she can’t seem to find the solution for. Her heart felt as though it would implode on itself as she tried to steady her breathing with no avail. Her mind never anticipated that the more she worked on her scientific experiments, the results would lead her to neglecting to put you first. Her Queen.

Everything she does is for the goodness of you and your well-being but none of that matters if she couldn’t even find herself to appreciate what was standing right in front of her.

“Shuri,” you called, knowing that referring to her by her first name brings nothing but discomfort and hurt to her heart,”How long will this go on for? When you were planning on returning to me? We can’t keep playing this—“

“You… you never had a problem with this before. W-with me working long hours and I don’t—-“

“That was before when you actually communicated with me. Your partner. Now,” you seethe, nose flaring and eyebrows creasing in annoyance, ”you just decide when it’s convenient for you to show up in my life. We are not young, dumb and in love anymore Shuri!” Your blood was boiling and the pent up anger was taking control of your words instead of your logical mind.

“How long do we need to be together for you to know this type of behavior will not fly with me?! If I had spent even one day not letting you know where I am or what I was doing, you would literally shut down the entire country just to find me.”

She knew you were right. Every word spilling from your beautiful lips she craved to feel on hers was correct. Yes, the world needs her technological advancements and efforts but what happened to you being her world? When did that change? It’s not as if she was burying herself in work due to grief. She had always been able to open up to you and visit her therapist when it all became too much to bare but this. She had no explanation whatsoever.

That’s why her vision was blurred beyond measure. Her purpose wants to leave her. You want to leave her and she can hardly even find the words to comfort you the way she knows you deserve.

Shaking the tresses of curls that lay on the top of her head, she began to slowly crawl on her knees towards you again, having repeated this action about five times already. The only thing her mind told her to do was to hold her, knowing that that is what she longed for and that would may make you melt. She forced her head onto your lower stomach with her arms wrapped so tightly around the back of your legs, body vibrating and unable to stay still as heavy sobs racked through her chest. All she could do was cry. The very last thing that has been keeping her sane in the midst of her crazy life— no. She cannot lose you.

Though your words and tone was sharper than her panther claws, you stood your ground. You value yourself too much to deal with this sort of nonsense, even if it was from the fellow Queen of Wakanda.

“Shuri, I’m tired. I’m tired of your lack of empathy for how I feel. I’m tired of having to have these conversations over and over again with you and most importantly,” you ran your hand through her hair grasping on it harshly, causing Shuri to whimper at the sudden feeling of discomfort. You forced her head up so she could see the hurt in your eyes, with yours being met with bloodshot irises and rivers of tears flowing down her face.

“I am tired of you. Get off of me right now. We are done.” You lowly growled, using all your might to push her away from you, sending her backwards and landing on her backside.

Her eyes widen, arms stretched out on the sides of her body with her mouth ajar in disbelief. The way you used those sweet lips to dismiss her like she was nothing. Ironically, that’s what she loved about you. She adored how you always put yourself first in every situation because you had a strong belief that if you weren’t at peace and things didn’t serve you, it is your responsibility for you to cut them out for your well-being.

She’s being cut out. I’m being cut out. I’m being cut out. I’m being cut—

You spun on your heels, exhausted from this exchange with your now ex partner, exiting her lab before slamming your kimoyo bead bracelet and kiyomo engagement ring to the ground. Using all of your might, you found yourself jumping in the air just to crashing down on the pieces of jewelry, both under your shoes and wanting nothing more to do with Shuri or any of the technology she held above you.

“Don’t you dare reach out to me or try to find me. I already changed my number.” And with that, you disappeared from the lab.

Silence suffocated the room. All of the oxygen had been sucked out of the lab the moment you slammed the door shut. Shuri’s eyes hadn’t left the reminants of the destroyed handcrafted jewelry she’d made for you two anniversaries ago. Her heart resembled the broken shards of material that laid before her. She grabbed a fistful of her top where her heart lays beneath the cloth and let out a blood curdling cry. She screamed and cried. Over and over. Begged you to come back. Spoke to the ghost of you that remained in the room with her. She felt as though she shed more tears now than when her mother passed, with past memories of the two of you littering her mind at the most agonizing moment of her life.

“I’m alone,” she whispered to herself, barely able to get the words out and not believing any of the events that occurred mere seconds ago, “I’m all alone once again.”

#shuri x reader #black panther x reader #shuri imagine #shuri angst #shuri x f!reader #shuri x black!reader #Shuri Udaku x reader #shuri x fem!reader #shuri x you #black panther imagine #marvel imagine #shuri smut #black panther smut #shuri black panther #shuri x y/n #shuri fluff

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twola · 1 year

Note

I always hate like “requesting” something because it feels like a forceful “write this for me now!” kind of thing, but a I’ve always had this smutty idea in my head where Arthur is getting a little weaker from the TB, but is also pinning after some cute girl in camp. Some wooing occurs and things start getting steamy~ but it’s her first time or she’s not super experienced. I feel like HH!Arthur would try to be the gentleman to show her a sweet, gentle time, but wouldn’t have the stamina for missionary, so his partner would pick up where he leaves off by riding him like the work horse he is. I just thin the scenario would be perfect for like sexy words of encouragement (def NOT thinking of his mare voice lines *wink wink wink*) plus Arthur getting taken care of too instead of just doing the caring. I have like 0 writing skills tho lol so if you ever found yourself in need of smutty I soo I would feel HONORED for you to bring my nasty Arthur thoughts to life

Ooh, TB whumpy smut… I’m sensing a pattern here. My poor boah, how I love to torture him…

This was a good one! Still working on a few more. I love and thrive on feedback so drop me a line if you liked it.

Regret Me Not

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Regrets seem to take up much of his headspace these days... But for one regret of his, Arthur takes action with a little bit of urging on your part.

Arthur wheezes, covering his mouth with the back of his palm, the wet, hacking noise that scrapes out of his throat as he sits on the boulder south of Beaver Hollow, out of earshot of the camp.

Not that he needed people’s stares. He looks terrible enough that he gets looks of pity from the women, avoided by the men - and Dutch? Well, he is living in another reality.

Another cough rips through him, as he feels as if he were drowning within his own body. A small hand lands on his back. He looks up, rubbing his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

You stand over his shoulder, rubbing gently, concern alight in your eyes. You look down and dig into the pockets of your skirts.

“Here.” You say with a small smile, handing him a bottle of tonic.

He coughs again, butchering his thanks, as he takes the bottle from your hands, uncorking it quickly and downing the foul-tasting liquid quickly.

“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, hand still resting on his shoulder, slowly, gently rubbing circles into his upper back.

Arthur wants to lean wholly into your touch. He wants to wrap himself into you and let you card your fingers through his hair. He wants to rest. He wants to sleep.

He wants, he wants - but alas. None of that was possible.

“Like hell.” He grits out hoarsely, tossing the empty bottle to the dirt at his feet.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” You say softly. Your other hand moves to his back as well, rubbing at his other shoulder.

“ ‘S alright.” He murmurs, not wanting to let on how good your hands feel on him.

A silence settles in, and you rub at his shoulders for a few moments more before drawing your hands away from him.

“Well… I just wanted to check on you. See how you’re doin’. I’ll see you later, Arthur.” You say, and he can hear the crunch of gravel under your boot as you turn on your heel. You begin to walk up the path back toward camp, as he turns and follows you with his gaze over his shoulder.

Arthur wants. In the embracing of his mortality, the facade of propriety and the painstakingly built walls around his heart crumble in the face of his own death.

He has watched you for months. Yearned for months, wanted and needed your attention, always too self-conscious to reach out and touch.

Sister Calderon’s words echo in his ears with each step you take away from him.

“Take a chance that love exists.”

“D-do you wanna get outta here?”

His voice is hoarse, almost weak sounding. Nothing of the man that he used to be.

You stop, turning around, a small smile creeping across your face. “God, get outta this hell hole? Absolutely. Anywhere is better than these hills.”

His heart hopes.

“I gotta go grab some mail from Van Horn. Ain't much better though…”

“It ain’t here, Mister Morgan. Let’s go.”

—

Van Horn is just as decrepit as the last time he was here. Falling apart and full of the dregs of society, left behind by the churning wheel of progress. He mirthfully counts himself as one of them, he supposes.

He tucks the letters he retrieved into his satchel, moseying slowly toward the back of the dock, where you stand with your elbows on the railing, gazing at the river’s lazy waters. Northward, toward the mountains and the river’s origins.

“Y’ready there, ma’am?”

You look back at him but don’t move. “Already? Ugh. Camp’s just so…”

Arthur sidles up next to you, placing his own elbows on the railing, grunting in agreement. You didn’t need to go any further, he knew where you were going with your comment.

The camp was… well, a gloom has settled upon it. Dutch acting irrational, angry. The loss of Hosea and Lenny. Running from Pinkertons.

And his own impending demise, of course.

“What’re you gonna do after?” Arthur asks quietly and notices the stuttering breath you take as your shoulders drop a little.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t have much else than this.”

Arthur hangs his head, taking in a deep breath. A breath that seems to barely fill his ailing lungs, and he coughs slightly under the rim of his hat.

“Y’got a good head on you. You’ll do fine.” He grits out, voice hoarse.

You remain silent, your eyes set on the water of the slow-flowing river. A boat chugs southbound, heading toward Saint Denis.

“I don’t know how I’ll fare being alone.” You softly murmur.

He sighs. “I’m sure you can stay with Abigail or Missus Adler. Or Charles. You got people to watch out for you.”

“But not you.”

A pang, a sharp pain shoots through his chest, above and beyond the near-constant constriction of his lungs.

“No. Not me.”

You look up at him, a sheen of wetness over your eyes. It pains him as he looks back.

A tear rolls down your face and it’s everything he is not to lean over and cup your face in his hands and wipe your tears away.

“Sweetheart, you deserve-”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me what I deserve, Arthur Morgan.” You spit out, tears openly running down your cheeks.

Arthur sighs, looking back down at the water. It is murky, muddy, dirty right under the dock. Just like this damn town.

You push yourself into his surprised embrace, clutching at his shirt, and it takes him a moment to realize that this wasn’t a dream, and he winds his arms around you, pulling you against him.

“I wish you would stop hiding from me.” You whisper as he holds you to his chest, your cheek pressed against his breastbone, probably hearing the crackling failure of his lungs with each breath he takes.

He doesn’t know how to answer that. For years now, it’s been easier for him to keep that urn with the remains of his heart buried from all.

“I’m here… I’m here now.” He murmurs, resting his chin atop your head.

“I’ve been waitin’ for you, Arthur. Waitin’ and wishing for you to ask me to be yours.” You bury yourself in his embrace.

Fuck.

Arthur’s resolve cracks like a piece of porcelain.

“I’m just a fool. A fool for making you wait.”

You shudder against him, digging your fingers into his shirt, and your breath stutters as you try to stifle a sob. Pulling away, you look up at him, his bloodshot, sunken eyes, still the blue-green pools you would drown in.

You lean up on your toes, arms winding around his neck, but he turns his face away as you draw closer.

“No. I ain’t gettin’ you sick too.”

You frown, glassy-eyed, about to draw your arms from him before he leans down and presses his lips to your cheek, again and again, moving up toward your ear.

“But…. I’ll give you whatever else it is you want.” He rumbles, arms wound tight around you, his body arcing over yours.

You shiver in his embrace, pulling your head back ever so slightly to look him in the eye.

“I want whatever you’re willing to give me.” You whisper, hands moving up and clutching at his collar.

He leans his forehead against yours. “If you want a dying, washed-up gunsling-”

You interrupt, pressing up on your toes and kissing his cheek, “I want you, Arthur Morgan. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

So long.

Goddamnit. He’s been looking at you, yearning for you, for months. Before Blackwater and ferries and being chased by Pinkertons. Before Dutch became erratic, before all of these complications. When he was chasing tumbleweeds across the wild and open west.

He gives a shuddering sigh, and draws you closer, pulling you to him and placing his lips on the long line of your neck. You whimper as he pulls a bit of your pale skin between his teeth, suckling on it, hoping to leave a mark.

You throw your arms completely around his shoulders and begin to pant in his ear. Whimpers turn to whines as one of his large hands moves down from your waist to clench roughly at your rear, drawing you against his pelvis and his rapidly hardening cock.

“A-Arthur - please -” You moan, rubbing yourself against him, and he regretfully draws his mouth away from your skin, pink-tinged and wet from his attentions.

As much as he’d love to turn you around, throw up your skirts, and press himself into you for the sake of time, he knows you deserve more than that.

“Lemme get a room.” He pants, letting go of you, moving to adjust himself in his trousers. “Go on upstairs.”

You pull at the collar of your blouse to hide the evidence of your indiscretion and quietly nod, moving past him and slowly climbing the rickety stairs to the second story of the decrepit building.

He quickly pays for a room, and grabs the key from the clerk with a dismissive grunt, hurrying his way up the stairs to find you leaning against the second-story railing, waiting for him.

Arthur jams the key into the door’s lock, pushing it open, and lumbering into the room, where he immediately sheds the repeater strapped to his back and places it on the worn table next to the door. His gunbelt follows as you step inside, closing and locking the door behind you.

He places his hat atop the pile of guns on the table, looking back at you.

“Still want to do-”

You cut him off by closing the distance between you and throwing your arms around his waist.

He pulls you toward the bed, and places his hands on your waist, holding you still, as he sits on the bed, the worn frame creaking under his weight. He doesn’t spare it a second thought, eyes trained on you, and he gently pulls you to sit in his lap.

You cup his cheek gently, thumb tracing along his beard that he’s kept longer to hide the gauntness of his cheeks. His large hand lands on your thigh, squeezing it as he presses his face into the hollow of your neck.

You gasp as you feel his tongue on your skin, clutching at his shirt as you tilt your head back.

You shiver again as his hand creeps up under your skirt, finger gently rubbing against the seam of your bloomers, which dampens quickly under his ministrations.

“It's been a while,” He grunts out, unable to stop his hips from bucking up against your legs with you seated in his lap, the long line of him chasing your warmth.

“M-me too. Ain’t since-” you mewl into his ear as his fingers push your bloomers to the side and brush against the damp skin of your core, “some stable boy when I was sixteen- ahh - we - we didn’t know what we was doin’.” You gasp out as his pointer finger, thick and strong, dips inside your entrance, sheathing to the knuckle within your cunt.

He slides another finger inside you, groaning against your hair when he realizes how tight you are, clutching desperately at his digits, imagining how good you would feel surrounding his cock.

“I’ll be good to you,” He grits out, crooking his fingers within you.

“Oh-” You gasp, “I know, I know you will, Arthur.”

Arthur pulls you from his lap and lays you on the bed next to him, and immediately starts to shed his clothing, tossing it into piles on the floor as you join him, skirts and shirts thrown from the bed, a union suit and chemise - your bloomers land on the floor and he quickly climbs atop you, spreading your legs and fitting his hips in the cradle of yours.

In this old, dirty bed in this old, dirty room, he swears he has never seen something so beautiful as you sprawled out beneath him, the rise and fall of your breathing, the blush crawling down your cheeks to your neck, spreading out across your chest, to your pink nipples, pebbling as they are exposed to the cool air.

He leans down, balancing himself on his forearms, finding that spot on your neck again and nibbling at it, while one of his hands works its way to the space between you, grasping his hard cock and stroking it as he presses the swollen head against your core.

You mewl as he presses in, the head of his cock entering you, his hand moving from its base to frame your head again.

“God, you’re perfect.” He groans as he starts to press himself inside, inch by inch disappearing into your wet warmth, your panting high and fast in his ear as he suckles on your neck once again.

He thrusts, gently, and his hips press against yours as he’s buried himself to the hilt in your cunt. You mewl out a high whine, nails digging into his shoulder.

Arthur presses himself up slightly, looking down upon you. His fingers begin playing with the curling hairs at your temple, waiting for you to open your eyes, a sign that you’re used to his length and girth within you.

And when you do, he’s stricken. Your eyes flutter open and you inhale a breath with a sweet sigh. God, for once in his damn life, he’s doing something right.

Your arms wind around his neck as you press your lips to his cheek, he knows that you want to taste him, to mold your lips together and moan into each other’s mouths - he wants that too, but it’s a step too far. He’s already half afraid of spreading his sickness to you.

Arthur thrusts, gently still, but faster and harder than he had been, you squeal in delight, which spurs him into finding a rhythm, his body moving over yours.

He grunts, panting as he moves his hips, fucking into you and pressing you down into this old, uncomfortable mattress. He swears he’ll bring you to some nice hotel in Saint Denis and make love to you on a plush expensive mattress-

A constriction in his chest stops him mid-thrust.

He pants, wheezing, his hips slowing as he struggles to catch his breath. Christ, what a sorry excuse for a man he is - can’t even please a woman in the state he’s in.

You gently push on his shoulder, and he has the stamina, at least, to raise himself up and look upon you, cheeks blazing in shame.

“Here, maybe I should get on top?” You ask, your hand cupping his cheek while the other gently lays upon his chest.

He groans at the thought, his traitorous cock twitching as he’s buried in your cunt, causing you to gasp out.

“Alrigh’,” Arthur grunts, and steadies his knees while he pulls his hands to you: one beneath your lower back, one below your shoulder blades. In a jumble of limbs and skin, he rolls over, somehow keeping himself sheathed in you until you’re splayed atop him, your small hips spread out over his.

He has to admit, this was a good idea you had, even before you think to move, what a sight he’s given. His cock fully enveloped in your hips, the dark thatch of hair between your thighs mixing with the curls at his base. Up, up the curves of your waist, he trails his hands, gently skimming your sweat-slicked skin. Your breasts, small yet perky, he’s enraptured by the way your nipples pebble as he rubs his thumbs over them, the sweet sigh that leaves your lips as your head falls back.

God almighty, you’re the sweetest thing alive.

Your hands find purchase on his chest, fingers pulsing, as you roll your hips once over him. His breath stutters, eyes widening as inches of him leave you, only to gently return moments later.

“G-good?” You ask, a self-conscious fear in your eyes.

His hands clamp on your waist and help to guide your movement.

“So good, you’re so good.” He rasps, the end of his lips curling up into a smile.

You smile back, rolling your hips again, taking him and out, following the pathway to your own pleasure and dragging him along for the ride.

Your murmuring devolves into gasping moans as you continue to gyrate above him, squeezing your eyes shut, your fingers spread wide over his pectorals.

“That’s it. You’re alright, girl.” He urges, one hand moving from your hip to where you’re joined, his thumb parting your folds just above where he’s speared into you.

You moan aloud, giving no qualm to volume as he circles and presses against that little nub of pleasure.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you’re almost there.” He whispers as his hips jut upward into yours, he can see the far-off look in your eyes, the way your lips hang open, the shortness of your breath, and the slightly painful way your fingers are clenching into his chest. He can tell, your pulsing, squeezing, sweet little cunt is so close.

You ride him fast, like a horse at a gallop, and that blooming lava in his gut churns in a way that he knows he’s not far behind.

“A-Ar…” You stutter as your eyes close tightly.

“That’s it, that’s it, Darlin’.” He urges, his other hand tight on your hips, aiding your movement.

“Agh, oh god - Arthur.” You moan out, bottoming out completely as you throw your head back. He groans aloud as he feels your muscles constrict around his shaft, the sweet clutch of your cunt.

He thrusts his hips upward again and is rewarded with the sweetest mewl from your mouth, he cannot help but to whimper as he feels warm, wet slick start to seep from where you’re joined, his swollen and heavy balls covered in them.

You recover, gasping as your hands move to his chest, your hips grinding down on him slowly.

“I wanna-” you pant, catching your breath, “I wanna make you come.”

Arthur groans in response, hips bucking upward as his hands fly to your hips again, clenching them hard.

“Ain’t gonna- augh- ain’t gonna be hard to give you that.” He stutters out, knowing that the pull in his gut is getting stronger with each sweet movement you make.

“You’re so good -” You mewl, rolling your hips over him as he grunts, hands sure on your waist, fingers pulsing as his eyes flutter closed, his mouth hanging open as he approaches that precipice.

“You feel just like I’ve always dreamed.” You sigh, and all he can respond with is a thrust upward of his hips, to give you more, to give you himself, all that’s left of him.

He’s there, he’s there. His eyes shoot wide and he grunts, hands hard over your hips. “Get- you gotta, move.”

But you lean forward, not stopping the gentle roll of your body over his, and kiss his forehead.

“Come inside me.” You breathe, hands steady over his beating heart, “Give me all of you.”

Of all the stupid, childish things… but the resolve of a dying man, it is far less strong than before - weakening much like his ailing lungs.

“Please.”

He does, he does.

He grunts needily as he pumps his release into you. Staying sheathed in your warmth, not jerking himself into cold air.

Arthur sits up immediately, burying his head into the side of your neck, and suckles gently at the skin there as your fingers start to play with the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck.

He regrets, it’s all he has left, that again, he wasted his time, glancing shyly at you across the fire for all those months. All he can do is offer you a few fleeting moments of pleasure. He regrets, it’s all he has left, that he cannot taste your lips and the sweetness he knows lies beyond them.

“Darlin’-” he trails off into your skin, trying to compose himself.

I’m sorry- I’m sorry this is all that’s left of me - sorry I can’t give you nothin’ but -

You place your lips on his forehead gently before pulling back. You cup his cheeks in your hands and nod your head.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

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