#he can take the suit off too and its got little holes for his ears and tail
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speaking of plushies my friend got a bear in a little astronaut suit from ikea for me and i looove taking him with me i love having a little guy with me
#hes so cute#he can take the suit off too and its got little holes for his ears and tail#aough…#i cant go to ikea its too much for me so im so glad they showed me they were there so i could ask to have one 🥲🥲#thank u char i love him soo much 🫶🫶#and hes extra special bc you bought him even if i paid u back :) 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶
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my sweetheart- Cooper x Fem!reader
okay so i’ve wanted to write a one shot of The Ghoul cuz he’s so funky I love him!!!! so this is an attempt to writing something that isn’t hazbin hotel heheheh :3c
the surface was something else, and for a vaultie like her it was terrible but she’ve been out and about for at least a decade now so she knew her way around. She had her fair share of partners sure, but finally after years she found the one, the perfect person for her. Coop was a ghoul, a pre war one too and for those 200 years he hadn’t found anyone after Barb, no one at all, but something about her changed his heart forever.
they met during a bounty hunt, long before the Wilzig one,, and they just so happened to bump into each other in Filly, it was definitely not normal to see a ghoul there so she got curious, she said sorry for bumping into him, tucking her hair behind her ear out of slight embarrassment
''Don't worry, I'm not gonna crumble after a slight push,,
he says smirking, lit cigarette in between his lips, takes a puff and looks back at her
''say do you by any chance know where I can find this fella here?,,
he says showing a drawing, of what seems to be a wanted poster, she looks at it carefully only to not recognise the guy and biting the top of her finger looking at the ghoul
“sadly no, but i can help you find him! i’ve had a few bounty hunts in my time,,
she says, kinda proud of herself since she hadn’t been doing that for long, and she thought she was pretty good at it
the ghoul looked her up and down, not in a rude way but it was the fact she was still wearing her vault suit, after years of not being in a vault she was still to attached to it and couldn’t take it off, of course she tweaked it a little bit with patches where holes where and some armour on top so it wasn’t in its original state
“sorry sweetheart but i don’t think a vaultie like you would ever take on of my bounties,,
she seemed a bit taken aback by his sentence but tried not to show it, she strikes a bit of a pose, hand on her hip and the other one takes the poster from his hand, gently of course
“well, try me!,,
the ghoul smirks again, taking a last puff from his cigarette then making it fall on the ground and stomping it with his boots
“sure thing,,
that was the day they met,, and since then they’ve been inseparable.
now in the present they would take bounties together all the time, but now was one of those days where they stayed home, they got a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, near enough vegetation to grow their crops
they were relaxing on their bed, she was playing on her pipboy while he was reading a book, suddenly he plops down his book and looks at her being concentrated on her game, he starts kissing the back of her head with soft little pecks making her shiver a bit but still playing the game
“hun get off your pip boy and come cuddle with me for a lil, huh?,,
he says now kissing her neck, so she decided to turn off the pipboy and give her man attention.
she turns around and gets under his arm cuddling in, then looks him in the eyes
“how lucky i am to have you Coop,,
he chuckled and looked at her kissing her nose
“I think it’s the other way around my sweetheart,,
this is a short one!! but i like it!! WE LOVE THE GHOUL RAAAAAH
#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul#fallout show#fallout#fallout x reader#x reader#fallout fanfic#fallout x you#the ghoul fallout#cooper howard#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard fallout
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Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader
Part two
part one, part two, ...
Summary: After fight with anomaly, you're left wounded, remembering past.
Word count: 1,8k
A/N: Omg guys, thank you so much for the support on the first part, I didn't know it would blow up so much, so here is second part. Also, if you want the Spot x reader too or any of the spiderverse characters, I will be for your service. If you have any ideas or anything, ask me on my profile. I will write anything bcs I'm bored and don't have anything to do ^^ enjoy part two.
“What is it this time?”
I asked Jess as I exited the portal, walking into chaos. “You know, normal monday, some anomaly is on rampage and they cant get it to stop.” “Who is the anomaly?”
I said stretching my arms, I just got out of bed, don't judge me, when I can, I will sleep. “I think it's some kind of symbiote? Host's name is Cletus Kasady.” “Okay, then what's taking them all so long?” “Go ask them yourself.” She waved her hands around to emphasize her statement. “Okay.”
I shot my red webs on building above them and swung in the direction of the anomaly. When I was above them I saw it was really Carnage, but this one looked different, he had some kind of swirl tattoo on his forehead and was a lot bigger. “Okay, this one shouldn't be different than the other ones.” I said as I leapt off the wall I was crawling on. Gliding towards my target, it was night so I was in advantage because of my suit colors. When I was right above I shot my web right in front of the symbiote. This Carnage´s head shot up and it screeched at me.
“Can you be a little louder?” I yelled at it as it started to rampage on the buildings around it, I have to stop him before he does something bad. While it was destroying the buildings, I started to make cage-like thing around it with my webs, successfully trapping it inside. When it realized what I did he screeched again, my ears were most likely bleeding at this point. Just as I landed on the ground inside the cage thing it attacked me, creating tentacles with its slimy goo muscles it was made from.
“Hey, you're carnage, right?” I yelled at the beast, its smile got even wider, it was uncomfortable to watch. “Yeaah, and who you might be?” It asked in its deep voice. “Well, I'm spider-woman, but if you would like to know, my name is (Y/N). I'm here to stop you, you're from a different reality and I'm here to get you back. Do you want to go willingly or should I use violence?” It looked like it was actually considering what I said. “Can't miss opportunity, princess.” It chuckled darkly. I just stared at it blankly and shot my web at him, successfully hitting it, then with great speed I started to stick the symbiote with my webs to buildings around us, he was unlike all other symbiotes, he had solid shape, not being just slime. When it realized what I was trying to do, he spun around in his restraints and before I could do something more.
I felt pain in my abdomen, looking down I saw a tentacle made from his goo. "Ah, fuck…" The tentacle leaving my abdomen and retracting back inside him, leaving behind a nasty hole inside me. My suit automatically goes above the wound, making it seem like nothing happened on the outside. I cought up some blood from my mouth, my hand going over my masked mouth. I crouched down on the pavement, hunching over. "ha ha ha…Not so brave spiderman?!"
"spider-woman." I muttered as I started to stand up, ignoring my injury I threw myself off the ground with help of my webs. Striking the last web on this monster, it was trapped and couldn't move. Suddenly an orange shield trapped it for the final time. "Took you long enough." "Well you looked like you had fun." Jess said. I tapped something on my watch and the portal opened before me. "Take care of this thing." "Will do." Was the last thing I heard before stepping into the portal, being sucked in a tube like force field around me, flying towards I stopped and walked out of the portal.
The HQ was lively as always, different spider people from different universes going about their day. When I stepped on the ground and out of the portal, I remembered my injury, falling on the ground with hiss. Some of the spider people noticed my fall and went to help me, helping me stand up. "Hey you okay?" "Do you want to go to infirmary?" Too much noise. "Hey! All of you move!" I heard a familiar voice. Miguel. "(Y/N)! ¿qué pasó?" "I need to go to infim…" Darkness.
~
"What's wrong with her?" Miguel asked the doctor spiderman. "She has a really deep wound on her abdomen, if she came in later she would most likely bleed out." I just looked at her limp body laying on the hospital table. Machine operating her abdomen, she had a breathing mask on her face. Fuck, Muñeco, you better don't die on me.
~
What…what's happening…When I opened my eyes I saw some kind of robotic arms inside my abdomen. My eyes widened as I remembered my past.
~~
Younger (Y/N) was sitting in her cell, staring blankly at the wall in front of me. The doors to my cell opened, bringing some light into the dark room. "Hello experiment - 5076, how are you feeling today?" Asked the sickening voice of one of the doctors. I just continued to stare at the wall. "Not talking today, I see." He said to himself.
"Follow me, 5076." I stood up and followed the doctor outside, walking through white walls, everything looked the same. "Sit down." He ordered. I just sat and stared. "Okay, today we are going to try something new." That's not good. I looked at the object he was holding, it looked like a syringe with some glowing red liquid. I flinched when restrains suddenly clicked over my hands and legs, keeping me in place. He rolled my sleeve and injected the red liquid into my vein. My eyes widened and I screamed because of the intense pain it left after injecting. The doctor left the room.
Miguel watched from behind the mirror Glass, horrified, he didn't know they were testing their experiments on humans. Porque no me di cuenta antes. He pushed his glasses from sliding off his nose. I need to help her escape tonight. The young doctor thought to himself.
The girl's body started thrashing, visibly in pain, all the other doctors were just looking, scribbling down onto their papers. After a few minutes some robotic arms came up from the ceiling and started to grab onto her, grounding her in place, after some more fight, the girl relaxed. Is she dead? Her head shot up and looked right into the mirrored glass and into Miguel's eyes. Can she see me? Her eyes were bright scarlet, she had fangs and was breathing heavily, her eyes were teary.
Miguel's wide eyes stared right back at her, her head co cocked to the side little. It was like unspoken conversation was being said between the two people.
~
"I think the DNA change worked, my fellow coworkers, we made a new Spiderman." Said the head doctor of the department. I didn't say anything and just left the room.
It was late at night, all of my coworkers had gone home already, I was the only one here. I stood up from my chair and started to walk towards the experiment's cells, looking around to see if there isn't anyone there. When I stood in front of 5076 cell I took out my card and swiped it on the tablet by the doors. The doors opened, I walked in, looking around.
"Hey, girl, are you here..?" "what do you want?" Quiet voice said, I saw her sitting silhouette on the ground, motionless. "I came here to rescue you." Her head whipped to my face, her red eyes glowing in the dark. "Why would you do that." "I didn't know they experimented on humans, it's just so inhumane, I don't want you to suffer." I said to her. She slowly stood up from her sitting position, coming up to me. She looked up to my face and tilted her head. "Come on, follow me." I said and walked out of her cell. "You can escape this way." I pointed down the white hallway, her head came from the darkness of her cell and looked the way I was pointing. She looked at me, her eyes having excitement inside them, her face holding hope. "thank you." As she walked out fully, I saw she had talons on her hands, she started to walk when alarms started to ring around us, the white hallway enveloped in red from the warning lights. She flinched and started to run, me doing the same, running off the other way.
~
I was running down the hallway when I heard loud steps, a lot of them. I ran into some kind of lab, there were containers with some slime everywhere, different colors and sizes, I saw people in black uniforms, helmets, shields and weapons. "Experiment 5076, get back into your cell and we won't hurt you." My instincts were ablaze, I was bloodthirst. Without a word I launched myself on them and started swinging my talons at them, successfully hitting some of them, killing them. One was trying to run, when I swung my hand at him I hit some kind of container.
Black goo crawled upon my hand and disappeared into me. What. I tried to ignored it and killed the last guy, blood, blood was everywhere. I went ahead into some doors, staircase. I ran down maybe, like, 20 floors, panting. I exited through doors and found myself at the side of the building, in some kind of alleyway. "fuck…my side." My side burned, one bullet hit me right into my side. I sank down the wall, holding my side when I heard footsteps. "I knew you would do it." The guy who helped me escape ran up to me, smiling. "Will you go with me? I will heal you and take care of you." "Well it's not like I have anywhere to go, right." He chuckled at my sarcasm.
~~
The vision started to fade as I regained my consciousness. Blood, a lot of blood. I was clawing at my body, trying the machine to get off me. "Hey! (Y/N)! Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself-!" Miguel. I looked up to his face, tears streaming down my face. "Im sorry…" was the last thing I heard before feeling a pinch in my arm and being surrounded by darkness.
A/N: this idea fot the plot came up to me last night, I had to write it down. Hope you liked it :>
Taglist: (If you want to be added tell me, or write me on my ask me!)
@deputy-videogamer @callsign-blue @d1lf-loverrr @freckledmuffin @hibeejibees
(Tried to tag everyone I could)
#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman 2099#spiderman across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel o'hara#jessica drew#carnage#sony interactive entertainment
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Moody and Gray - William Afton x Female Reader
Chapter 6
Rating - Explicit
Warnings - sexual content
Also available on AO3
You’re standing in your shower—and God is it difficult to be inside of there and not reminisce about what had happened the previous night when Afton had been in there with you—taking your time washing off the grime of the work day. Pausing mid stroke of bar soap, daydreaming again, thinking this time about being bent over in his office. The gift waiting for you on the kitchen counter. You want to see him again. You need to thank him at the very least. You forget about being tired.
Fuck it. You’re going back to work.
***
It’s really too cold for skimpy clothing, but fuck if you aren’t going to get a little dolled up for your employer for a change. You’ve got time to kill before close anyway.
You put on makeup and style your hair. Decide on a clingy off the shoulder sweater to go with the slitted black leather mini skirt. It’s magenta, not quite purple, but as close as you have to his favorite shade. Your boots aren’t as fancy and new as miss college girl’s either, but they do reach over your knees and you think they look pretty damn hot. You even put earrings on, struggling a bit since you haven’t worn any in a while and the pierced holes are starting to seal. You pose in front of the mirror. Yeah, not half bad, considering you’d been on your feet all day.
You put on a sitcom rerun to keep you occupied while you wait for the time to pass. You hope your car cooperates. It’s been exceptionally cold lately.
It’s finally time to go. The coat look so, so pretty. The perfect size. So cozy. You’re grinning at yourself in the mirror and you don’t care.
You step out of the apartment building. The temperature has definitely dropped since sundown. But your top half is cozy, at least. The lesser clad lower half, well. A sacrifice you’re willing to make. Time to head back to Freddy’s.
***
The parking lot is empty.
Your heart sinks. Damn it. William must have left early tonight. All of this work for nothing. And now you can’t even thank him.
You’re just about to loop back around to the exit when you see a familiar face emerging from the front entrance. He is here.
Afton looks up from locking the doors as you hastily park and step out of the vehicle.
“Moody?”
“Hey. Where’s your car?” You start walking towards him. You can see his eyes track down and back up again. And down yet again. Yeah. He was looking.
“I lost my spot because I had to take my youngest to an appointment. Got stuck parking out back.”
“Oh yeah. The dentist. I saw that on your calendar earlier when I was…bent over it.” You bite your lower lip and grin at him.
“You look amazing.”
“Yeah? You like?” You twirl around for him.
“Yes. I like. Very much.” He takes your hands and pulls you against him.
“I had to come say thank you for the jacket. It’s really great, Will. I appreciate it. Very thoughtful.”
“I was going to stop by. You didn’t have to come back out just for that. Though I’m glad you did.” He kisses you.
“How was the rest of the shift?” You reach up to comb through his hair. You know it’s already a lost cause. The locks will not be tamed.
“Uneventful.” He turns his face and kisses your palm.
“Uneventful is good.”
“I missed you.”
“Missing me is good, too.” His mouth on yours again, rougher this time. “You want to go make out like a couple of horny teenagers in my car?”
“No.” He pauses. “I think my car is better suited for that purpose.”
“I agree.”
“Walk with me or I’ll drive around?”
“I’ll walk with you.” He tucks your arm through his.
“When would you be available for dinner next week?”
“I’m off Wednesday, so…”
“That’s how you want to spend your evening off? With the employer of the establishment you despise working at?”
“It has its ups and downs.”
“Does it now?”
You both round the corner. William’s car is right in front of you. He releases your arm and you back against the passenger door.
“Yeah. You know. Its ups…” You drag your hand up the fly of his trousers, squeezing. “…and its downs…” You tug on the zipper of his fly and shove your hand inside.
“You are impatient, aren’t you?” He smiles beside your cheek. “I quite like it. Maybe I should request they hire more young women to make you jealous.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“I think…” He laps at your ear, “You should…” Tugs the zipper of your jacket down, a little hiss of appreciation escaping, “…Come sit on my big fat—fuck.” His voice instantly shifts from sultry to annoyed. “I forgot about the security cameras. I’m going to have to delete this footage tomorrow.”
You burst out laughing at the abrupt switch from dirty talk.
He winces. “Did I kill the mood?”
“Not at all. I would very much like to come sit on your big, fat cock.”
“That’s my girl,” he purrs.
“So what are we thinking? Front, back?”
“Front seats recline. Steering wheel but you know I think we can make it…” His voice trails off when you reach inside the opening of his pants for another squeeze.
“Front it is.”
He unlocks the passenger door and then loops around to the driver’s side. You slide inside the car. The leather seats are extremely cold but you know you’re going to warm up fast.
William shrugs out of his coat and tosses it in the back, then sits behind the wheel and closes the door. He begins reaching around blindly for the lever on the side. “I know it’s here somewhere. Hang on. For fuck’s sake…There, got it.” The seat reclines back abruptly. “Well. There we are, then. What?”
You shake your head. “Nothing. You’re just. You’re so frustrated. And it’s kind of charming.”
“Is it?”
“You know you are.”
“Sometimes a gentleman likes to be told these things.”
“Noted.”
“Why aren’t you in my lap yet?”
“Also noted.” You struggle out of your coat. You should have taken it off outside like Afton had done with his. He helps you pull your arms through and you finally manage the task, dropping it on top of his in the back.
He gives a wolf whistle. “Look at you, Moody.” You climb over the console and seat yourself on his thighs. “Maybe I should ask corporate if we can change the dress code a little bit. Start allowing skirts…”
“No. Too much temptation. Plus too many pervert customers.”
“Unfortunately yes, there are those. I would have thrown him out sooner if someone had told me…”
You shrug. “It just kind of comes with the job. No matter where you work.”
“That doesn’t make it right. I don’t condone that kind of behavior.”
“Alright, Gray. I’ll spread the word among the waitstaff.” Your wrap your hands around his tie and lean to give him a kiss. “Can we not talk about work anymore now?”
“Absolutely.” He rests a hand on your hip. The skirt has a half zipper on the side that he’s already working on. Little had you known earlier what a good choice a skirt was for this evening. Once loosened he slides it up around your waist.
“Were you really going to stop by on your way home?”
“Yes.”
“To say goodnight?”
“That, and to make sure you received the gift. And to see if you liked it.”
“You had a busy day. Leaving earlier to drop it off and then the appointment and…” His hands stroke your thighs and toy with the waistband of your underwear. You’ve got a very skimpy thong on that is comprised of little more than a couple of threads woven together.
“Well worth it.” He sucks in a deep breath as he reaches around for your bare cheeks. “You most definitely should not wear these to work. I would get absolutely nothing accomplished.”
You unfasten his belt and unbutton his fly. “I’m going to take a wild guess since I can’t really see in this lighting that these briefs are some variant of purple.”
“They are not, actually.”
“Hmmm,” you hum thoughtfully, reaching inside to pull his erection through. He is scalding against your skin. His breath hisses through clenched teeth. “You’d think you hadn’t gotten any good pussy yet today. And we both know that’s not true.” You stroke lazily, teasing him a little.
“Remind me about this good pussy.”
It takes a moment to align your bodies correctly. He shrugs down a bit and you scoot up and there, the crotch of those ridiculous panties are jerked aside and you’ve seated yourself on his cock.
“Fuck.” You’re incredibly wet. You’re beginning to think this is going to be a new permanent condition for you because of this man.
“Oh yes. This pussy. I remember this very well now.” The fingers holding your hip dig into you. The other hand roams beneath your sweater and kneads your breasts. “That tight, wet pussy…”
His hips lift as you grind down. “Fuck, Will…”
“I know what my girl needs.” He rocks against you. The windows are fogging up. As predicted you’ve forgotten all about being half naked in the dead of winter.
“Say it again.”
“Hmmm?”
You capture his lips. “Say I’m you’re girl again.”
“You like that, huh?” He fucks up into you, forcing another exhale of pleasure. “You are my girl. You’re mine,” he growls.
You impale yourself again. “Will…” You’ve forgotten your wearing lipstick. It’s smudged all over his face. It’s on his shirt collar. You’ll have to use some rubbing alcohol or dish soap or something to…oh. He slams back up into you and the thoughts break apart into senseless pieces. You focus on his mouth. On his breathing. The sounds that he’s making, moaning, gasping, sighing, his body slapping against and colliding with yours.
“My moody girl…” he murmurs against your neck. Sheathed again. Back out. Entered to the hilt. Withdrawn. Faster now. A rhythm built. You’ve had a few awkward moments readjusting. Console digging in. Steering wheel bumped by accident. The seat creaks, unused to the combined weight and activity. But it’s good. It’s so, so good. The windows are coated in white, the condensation from your combined body heat cloaking you. You’re in your own private world.
“Will, it’s…I’m…”
“Yeah, love. Me too.”
His hips stutter. You knot your fingers in his hair. You’re looking into his eyes when you both come undone.
***
It’s a little later. You’re dressed again and back in the passenger seat. William pulls up beside your car.
“Don’t worry about the shirt. I always keep a set of spare clothes in the boot. Running a restaurant is a messy business. Let me go duck in and get changed.”
You nod, watching him leave. Your body is still tingling pleasantly. You don’t want to go home without him. It’s only your second night together. You shouldn’t be this far gone. You’ve never been like this before with anyone else.
Anyone else did not include William Afton, of course.
Speaking of which. There he is. Pizzeria doors secured once more. Back inside the car with you now.
“I’ll wash that for you.”
“You don’t have to, but I won’t say no.” He hands you the shirt with a soft smile.
You lean over to kiss him. “No more lipstick, I promise. I think it’s actually been all kissed off at this point.”
“It looks nice on you but either way. Any way I can have you,” he adds quietly. “You make it very hard to leave.”
“So don’t leave.”
“Moody.”
“I know, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it. I’m going. I’ll see you tomorrow, boss. On time, or something like it.” You reach for the door handle and his hand closes over your arm, halting you.
“I do need to say it, though. There is something about you…” He sighs, faltering. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Oh. You hadn’t expected that. “Really?”
He nods. “You?”
“Yeah, same.”
A smirk. “What do we do about that?”
“Play hooky and spend the day together tomorrow instead?”
“Fuck, Moody. Don’t tempt me.”
“This place would survive one day without us.”
“Maybe.”
“Come on. You practically live here. We can go out to eat or get take out and watch shitty television and fuck each other senseless.”
“When you put it like that, how can I refuse?”
“Wait. Are you really going to do it?”
“Yes. But we’re not going to make a habit of this. This is an exception. Extenuating circumstances and all that.”
“Mmm-hmm. What time are you coming over?”
“Early. I’ll stop off to delete that security footage first. Make sure you set your alarm.”
“Okay, okay,” you grumble.
“And get some rest tonight. You’re going to need your strength for tomorrow.”
“You cheeky—” He leans over and captures your lips and you surrender the rest of your insult.
“Goodnight, my moody girl.”
“Goodnight, Will.”
You don’t even remember driving home. The car thankfully knows the way. You’re back inside your apartment, William’s stained shirt still clutched in your fingers.
You still can’t believe it. He was actually going to do it; take a day off from his beloved restaurant, just to spend it with you.
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Hi Idk what possessed me to write this (probably that Sailor Moon gif earlier) but uh here goes I guess??? It's kinda. Uh. L o r e - type of content. Based on WTTW.
---
MEDITERRANEAN SEA, SOUTH OF ITALY
Out of everything Robertas "Bob" Lė expected to find in the hatch, it certainly wasn't this. But to be fair, he wasn’t sure what he should’ve expected - it just didn’t seem feasible for the lid to be knocked open by complete chance. The force required to turn the wheel was very deliberate.
And on his way there, after volunteering to investigate, he’d begun to second guess why.
Until now.
The interior was already drained before he approached the door at its landing. From a strange onset of paranoia, he held his pistol from behind his back. What for? Pirates?! The idea was laughable.
It was probably nothing. A false alarm. Or…
A merchild. They were real.
The creature in question was quite small, no larger than a tuna. Whether they were male or female was unknown. Pale blue skin, with fins on their singular arm, their back, and a pair residing where their ears would. Their hair and eyes were much more vibrant in hue, but their tail was the showstopper: cyan with a raspberry-pink tip.
As they struggled to climb the ladder, and failed several times, it became clear that they were also malnourished, judging by how visible their ribcage was. Poor thing probably hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks.
Bob put the gun away.
He didn’t have much to offer, aside from a tin of canned sardines (which, funnily enough, he was the only one aboard who cared for the things). Though, maybe this starving merchild won’t mind.
Tin in hand, he slowly bent down to their level, opening it. “Hey,” He asked softly, “Do you want some?”
The new sounds got the blue creature’s attention, staring at Bob, then the tin.
“I’ll just set them here for you, alright?” He did as he said, then backed away to give some space. The merchild watched him leave. Then, bravely crawled over to the tin, smelling it curiously.
And stuffed their face into the hole, devouring every last sardine.
The next look Bob was given was pleading. “Sorry, I do not have more. I would have to go all the way to the food storage, and… Well.” He was sure the crew, and especially the captain, wouldn’t be too keen on him supplying their backup rations to what could potentially be a wild animal. No matter how begrudging they were about those little fish.
After all, it was Bob who carefully calculated it for the long journey ahead. An additional mouth to feed would be catastrophic.
“Anyway,” He continued, donning one of the few diving suits near the hatch, “Let’s get you back out where you belong.” Their family surely must be worried. … If familial bonds were part of their culture, that is.
Once out in the open water, the merchild had sped off, not daring to look back. And soon after, for whatever reason, Bob missed them.
Just as he finished up and went to leave the hatch’s landing, someone stood in the doorway.
Captain Gonzalo. A traveler from Spain, who came to Lithuania specifically to seek him out for this… Admittedly crazy scheme, to begin with. A submarine capable of sailing all the way to Australia.
“Why don’t you just fly there?” Bob had asked.
“What? You joking? I’ve done that everywhere else! It's so boring!” He’d laughed at the idea. ”But the sea… It calls my name. And if you do this for me, I am prepared to pay you handsomely!” It was enough to put Billy through college, to afford all the materials necessary to upgrade him through every stage of life until adulthood, where he could then take such matters into his own hands.
The plan was inane. But the price he was willing to pay tipped the scales.
But at this moment, Gonzalo looked upon him with a smirk. “So, what was that, Shipwright?”
“Oh, just a lost fish, Captain. Nothing to worry about.” Half true, but if Bob had been completely honest, he wouldn’t have been believed.
“I see!” The captain’s expression didn’t change, as if seeing through the bluff. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t happen again!”
“Indeed.” But Bob didn’t waver either, hoping his commitment helped to conceal things.
A few days later, however, it did happen again. This time, it wasn’t an accident.
#baldis basics#BBAU#WTTW#fanfic#l o r e#bob II#denied#gonzalo#billy mentioned#(though to clarify: bob didn't just build a son. it was to keep him alive)
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A Small Predicament [Baby Genshin x Reader]
Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo
Synopsis: Cursed for a week, the boys either have to live with it or find a cure as soon as possible. You on the otherhand hoped otherwise.
(A/n): It only takes ONE glance for me to start having ideas. It was twelve in the morning yall, enjoy~
Oh here's part 2
--------
Scaramouche
• "Oh you shrank? I couldn't tell-"
• Threatens that he will murder you to pieces and burn your remains but his voice was so squeaky and high pitched (voice crack) that you couldn't help but burst into a tearful laughter.
• Its payback time Bully him, take his hat and hover it above his head. Truthfully, without his hat Scaramouche looks like a little schoolboy. Overall less intimidating.
• Tries glaring. Cute. He's really bratty as a kid, sitting on a high chair (which you had to help him get on) and demanding his servants to do his bidding. In reality, his personality never changed. You realized that even as a grown up he still acts like this (bratty kid in a grown man body).
• The curse made his week a living hell. Signora had the audacity to pull his ear when he misbehaves. Childe constantly messes with his hair while giving head pats and the WORST of all, pinching his cheeks. Scaramouche never wanted to commit arson so bad in his life.
• Eventually finds a cure so he doesn't have to deal with it anymore and orders everyone to never speak of it again. Though, he's plotting how he'll get revenge on everyone who made fun of him using the very same curse (You better run).
~~x~~
Diluc
• "Oh…Oh my! Diluc you're just so cute!"
• Diluc grimaces as you glomp him in this state. How can you help it? With his head so small it makes his hair all the more fluffier! His coat no longer fits him to the point the sleeves had made past his fingertips. He tried wielding his claymore again, only to lose balance and fall flat onto his bum
• (insert kid voice "Retribution!") Did I mention the babyface?
• Diluc tries to act as if everything was normal, acting like the Darknight hero and Mondstadt's Tycoon but fun-sized. He couldn't. There was no way people would take him seriously in business meetings. Same with fighting abyss mages, his smaller form was too much of a disadvantage. Thus you ended up doing most of his paperwork.
• One time you caught him sitting on the floor couldn't reach his office desk while reading away the various books for a cure. It was three in the morning. You told him it was way past his bedtime and he argues saying when did he ever have a curfew schedule. In the end you managed to convince him and he begrudgingly obliges.
• The type to NOT ask for help even when it's obvious that he really needs it. Before he was the one who helped you reach things from the top shelves, oh how the tables have turned. He avoids Kaeya like a plague unless he was in it for another round of funny remarks. When he wanted to go out and get some fresh air, you insisted on accompanying him. Worst mistake in his life. A travelling merchant bumps into you and commented that you had a very cute son. Diluc was mortified.
• The day ended up with him sulking in his room. Although it was tempting, you resisted from cooing over his adorable form after days of treating him like a child. It wasn't because you were teasing him, Diluc just works so hard that you wanted to spoil him a bit. At least he could still play a game of chess with you.
• When things went back to normal, Diluc ensures that you will NOT see him as your son.
~~x~~
Kaeya
• "Well look who it is, my little Prince Kaeya~"
• Tries really hard not be bothered by it at all. Kaeya still maintains his suave facade, throwing in a couple of flirting lines here and there (and forcing his voice to go a few octaves too low in which puberty has yet to occur HA). Though no matter what approach, he couldn't ignore the sparkling mischievious glint in your eye. You were obviously not taking him seriously.
• Things couldn't get any worse. He lost his masculine physique and boob window, he wasn't able to go to certain places without supervision. But the worst thing of all was that he was underaged. Kaeya hated the fact he couldn't drink anymore, he even insisted you to sneak him a few bottles (which you refused) and had to settle with plain beverages such as fruit juice (what an insult). He was never really grounded since his childhood days but he certainly felt like he was grounded now.
• Kaeya still kisses you on the lips whether you like it or not. If you ask him to sit on your lap, he will find a way to turn the position into his favour such as resting his face between your breasts. You're not gonna treat him like a kid, nuh-uh, he actively avoids it.
• Since his personality still remains, Kaeya is a naughty child. He will use his innocent appearance to sway people (even you) to get what he wants. That was how he was able to take a sip of the wine he stole somewhere (he wouldn't tell you). Diluc scolded him heavily and threatened to ban him from drinking from his Tavern for a week (they ended up arguing, Kaeya being the passive aggressive little shit he is).
• He was extremely relieved to return back to his normal form again. He has so much to catch up (specifically his bedtime activities with you *wink wonk*)
~~x~~
Child(e)
• "Hmmm to be honest, this actually suits you very much."
• Unlike the other boys, Childe was completely okay with it. Turns out that YOU were the one who was not going to be okay. If you thought taking care of Teucer was energy-draining then expect Childe to take that tenfold and beyond.
• You've officially became his full-time babysitter who is in desperate need of a raise (and rest). You can't take your eyes off of him and archons forbid that he will ever meet Klee. One point he'll be running ahead by your side and the next you'll find him getting himself in a 1vs7 situation with some shady looking treasure hoarders. Childe genuinely thinks he could take them on but the curse downgraded his abilities. You carried him and barely made out of it alive. (This made you ponder whether the best solution would be to strap him against a chair for the time being…)
• Childe being a child will eat all the candies and ice cream he pleases. You wonder if the curse also turned him a few years back or was it that he acts like this simply because he wanted to (it was the latter). He loves being spoiled, spoiled by you! Childe demands your full attention, spoon-feeding his meals, back rubs and head pats. Yep, he's definitely doing this on purpose.
• Did he just call you 'mommy'? (Childe has mommy kink confirmed). He has so much energy that it was exhausting, you literally had to drag him away from what ever he was doing in order to get him to bed. "No Childe, your sleeping time is 9p.m stop whining." He bargained that he'll sleep if you sleep beside him (you didn't get any sleep. You knew what he was planning. In the end, you tried to make sure he didn't sneak out behind your back.)
• Finally you were able to get out of that hell-hole. Childe promised to make it up to you, you deserve it after all~
~~x~~
Small (aka Xiao)
• "Did you know in the Liyuean language, Xiao translates to small?" You didn't say that out loud. Not when he's this angry (this angy)
• He just stands there, crossing his arms and grumbling. You were hesitant to touch him in case he might hiss at you. Xiao has always been short, maybe an inch taller than you, but seeing him like this made you think 'my almighty yaksha can't be this cute♡'
• He gets mad when you no longer call his name for help. How could you? He's just so precious~ Xiao makes it clear that no matter what form he takes, it doesn't make him weak ("Adepti and you mortals are nothing alike." Or so he says but you could tell he wasn't running as fast as he used to because…small legs). You may not comment on it aloud but he can tell just by the look on your face and it irritates him.
• Also the type to not ask for help but worse. Xiao is an agressive little kid, he seems as if he'll be willing to bite someone's finger off if they try to pet him (He gives strong cat vibes, so thats understandable). His spear was too big for him to wield so he often has to put it away or else he might knock someone over with it. Xiao hates being short so you'll be hearing him complain alot.
• Since he was an adepti, he didn't need to sleep however, the curse must have brought down his power by a significant amount to the point you DID catch him napping. You almost swooned out loud just by taking a glance upon his face. For once he didn't wear his signature grumpy look. Xiao appears like a normal child, one full of innocence. His snoring was soft and breathly but that just meant he was deep asleep. (You wished to take a picture).
• Of course, everything had to come to an end (much to your disappointment), he still complains about the incident to this day.
~~x~~
Zhongli
• How is it possible for a baby to still look so handsome? (Must be his godly abilities)
• Zhongli is unfazed by this 'curse' since his past lives have already taken many forms. Though for some reason whenever he walks down the streets of Liyue, young girls, mothers, ladies all come him was and start complimenting him and gushing over him (he was suffocating). They'd squeeze him tight or squish his cheeks, it only takes once glance before the little girls start blushing and hiding behind their moms.
• Needless to say, despite what form he is in, Zhongli is still able to get free stuff. He got some free candies and some free kites to play with. You had to help him carry his items. Zhongli ends up tripping too much because his tailcoat reached his feet (he decided to just take it off. You had to hold that too). Seems like he can have anyone do things for him in the end HA.
• He still got that drippy voice and you're just like ???? "What on Teyvat Zhongli, you're a kid." This is why you can't see him as one, its nearly impossible.
• Actively avoids Hu Tao and Childe. Once Hu Tao caught sight of him and chased him for hours, he couldn't stay in one spot knowing that she might just pop out of no where. Childe still spoils him, however Zhongli feels irritated by the fact the only things Childe buys him toys (its different when other people do it.)
• Everytime you guys go back strolling through Liyue, you had to hold his hand in case more women come swarming hin again. You swear that at this rate he might get kidnapped because hes just such a beautiful baby.
• Zhongli learned an important lesson after his curse was lifted: no matter how many years he lives throughout never take a form of a child.
~~x~~
Albedo
• You find him buried beneath a pile of books and had to dig him out before he suffocates.
• Albedo has the cutest eyes, they're big and round full of curiosity and they sparkle too (he has the prettiest eyes out of everyone tbh). He is the only person who is fascinated by this outcome and immediately goes in the wild to test out his new physique.
• He was always curious why Klee T-poses when she runs so he decided to try it out himself. She was thrilled to find out that she now has a little brother to play with. In the end, Albedo indulges in the games she always wanted to play but couldn't because he was too old: princess dress up tea parties.
• You felt many things when you saw Albedo wearing a frilly gown and a plastic tiara tucked on his head. Deep down you knew regardless of what gender Albedo was still pretty. Klee even had the guts to redo his hair and hardly anyone was able to recognize it was him at all. He has pigtails, PIGTAILS! You made sure to burn that image into the very depths of your mind forever.
• The only advantage was the he was ablw to fit through small spaces, other than that, being small was way too inconvenient. He knocked down a few of his potion bottles which damaged the floor (thankfully not him) because they were lethal (he wonders how Klee was able to not injure herself when using bombs). You carried him and lifted him to alot of places such as trudging through the snow because Albedo would surely fall on his face due to his small form.
• Enough was enough, he only lasted a day with this and decided to just make a potion and put an end to the curse once and for all.
#genshin impact#diluc x reader#kaeya x reader#albedo x reader#zhongli x reader#xiao x reader#childe x reader#genshin impact scaramouche#genshin impact headcanons#diluc#diluc ragnvindr#Kaeya#kaeya alberich#tartagalia x reader#genshin impact scenarios#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#nya writes#scaramouche x reader
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PARINGS: Shouta Aizawa x Reader
CW: yandere, stalking, rape/noncon, pain kink, pain play, mild scent kink, home invasion, gags, restraints, virginity kink, scumbag aizawa, pet play, humiliation, cum stuffing, fingerings, snowballing, voice kink
SYNOPSIS: You have been calling the same phone sex operator for months, creating stalker and CNC fantasies. What happens when he rings true to his words?
AN: this is very dark, be warned! just had to make a fic out of the little idea I had <3
It’s always you who requests him. He can tell you're a virgin, the way your voice wavers when you feel like responding to him. Sometimes you don’t, letting your breathy moans do the talking for you.
“Good little girl.”
“Getting off to a phone call from your stalker? What a whore.”
“Cum for me, pretty girl.”
”Do you like that, pretty little kitty?”
He never had a knack for giving nicknames, but he had to make it known that he remembers you. Remembers that voice. Hopefully, he’ll be able to remember your body one day.
Tracking you down was easy enough; you didn't bother to block your number and public records was just calling his name. God did he love untouched girls like yourself. So wet and pliant, so easily manipulated, so naive to believe everyone had good intentions.
Cameras were placed around your house so he could watch you when he couldn't hear you. If it was a stalker you wanted, he was going to give it to you.
You called often and asked for him always—such an obedient girl. The live feed from your bedroom streamed in front of him whenever you rang, but he was tired of playing games this week.
“Just look at the way you’re kneading yourself; you like to tease yourself. Don't you, kitty?”
Your breath hitched, but he knew it wasn't from pleasure. Looking around, he chuckled at your confused expression.
“You got a real cute face, you know that kitty? I can't wait to fuck it one day.”
Be rational, you told yourself. Its all part of the fantasy, right? He can’t actually see you.
“That’s a cute bed spread you got there, I didn’t take you for the type who liked lilies. You always keep roses in your kitchen vase.”
Okay, he was definitely listening to you now.
“Say, you live on 14th Street, don't you? Why don't I come down and give you an in person session?”
“What do you say, kitty? Or should I just break in like I always tell you I would?”
The phone hung up after that comment. Sure, you were up to the fantasy of being stalked and raped; that’s why you called him. It was too embarrassing to tell a partner your fantasies, not like you had one. Or roommates for that matter.
His voice is what soothed you after a hard day, but now it kept ringing in your ears. Listening to his breathy chuckles sent shivers down your spine, but you never expected to feel them there.
Three raps came from your bedroom door before it opened. You were buried in your sheets, hopelessly, desperately attempting to be asleep. Like that would stop him.
“I know you're awake.”
An “ah” of realization came from him.
“Unless you sleeping peacefully is part of the fantasy. This is new, but I can indulge you in that kitty.”
The bed dipped and creaked with his weight, fear sinking into your heart further as a hand smoothed itself over your shoulders.
“So tense.” He tutted. “I’ve got something that can help you relax.”
His tongue lapped at the outer shell of your ear; arm slung over your blanketed body.
“Such a naughty girl. Tell me, how many times did you get off to the sound of my voice telling you I was going to take your virginity by force.”
A hand snaked its way up to your throat, squeezing gently enough not to cause pain but enough to cut off part of your air.
“Tell me you want me to rape you, here and now. Or I’ll take you out to the alley and make a display of it.”
His voice barely reached above of a whisper the entire time, the same soft sound he used over the phone. Hot breaths tickled your ear and neck as you squirmed, gasping at straws for air.
“I promise to be gentle; I know you like a tender man who takes what he wants.”
Your throat restricted even more under the hand to the point where you felt light-headed.
“Please!” You gasped, using your nails to scratch at his wrapped fingers. The pressure withdrew.
“Please what, kitty? C’mon, you can do it.”
“P-Please rape me.”
A sharp laugh came from behind you.
“Is that any way to address me? I thought we were using special nicknames here.”
He let you have your moment, apparently amused to see you choke for air as he stroked your back.
“Please rape me...sir.”
“Atta girl.”
The hand made its way back to your throat, only resting there as the thumb stroked over your tender flesh. The other one snuck under the blanket and groped at your chest.
“You're a virgin, aren't you, kitty? Don't worry; your owner is going to talk you through it. Nice and slow so you feel everything I'm giving you.”
Fingers wiggled their way under your bra and began pinching at your nipples, tugging and pulling at the hardening nubs.
“Stop squirming, or I’ll have to tie you up. You'll get your treat soon enough, kitty.”
You yelped after a particularly rough tug, tears springing in your eyes. His one hand managed to rip your bra apart, giving better access to his perverted fingers.
“I know you like it, the way I knead your pretty little breasts. Come, take your clothes off. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
Everything came off before he instructed you to stand at the edge of the bed for him. He circled you like a predator, making inspections.
“I have to make sure my kitty is well-groomed and taking care of herself.”
The weight of his hot breath on your skin weighed down on you, pulling you further under his spell. He lifted your arms and smelled your scent.
“Lavender deodorant? What a shame; I wished I could have smelled your natural musk.”
Humiliation flushed your face hot. Disgusting pervert, it seemed he was into everything as long as it wasn't consensual.
“Sit down on the bed, legs spread.”
The baritone of his voice shook you to your core, but not in the pleasurable way you're used to.
“Don't make me ask twice, pet.”
His command was hard to ignore after following them for such a long time; it was practically instinctual to do as you were told. Shaking legs spread as you turned your head to the side. Another tut rolled off his tongue as he gripped your cheeks with one hand.
“Don't turn away from me. I want to see the look in yours when I take you and make you mine.”
You hadn't even realized before that he had brought a bag with him. From it, he took a bar spreader, rope, and a spider gag, all of which he put on you. The gag made your mouth uncomfortably wide, leaving nothing to his imagination.
Rough fingers pull you tongue from your mouth, his own coming down to lick at before spitting down the back of your throat.
“Swallow.”
You did.
“Good kitty.”
The name didn't comfort you anymore. Nothing about him comforted you anymore. Not his voice, not his nickname, and certainly not his breath, which you felt like was burning all over your body.
“I’m going to be nice and leave your throat alone today. However, if I give you a treat, you will swallow it. Do I make myself clear?”
You nodded, terrified at the notion that he intended to come back after tonight. Crouching down in front of you, he inspected your wet pussy before spitting on it as well. Gingerly moving your lips, he circled your tight hole and stood up.
“That should do.”
Watching him undress himself seemed to make time move slower, knowing that he was about to take your virginity within minutes. His hard cock sprung out from his boxers and hit his happy trail, bobbing slightly against his abs. Not only was this man toned, but he was also huge.
“In we go, kitty.”
Not even taking the courtesy to gather some slick from you, he pushed in, taking his sweet time as he locked eyes with you. He went agonizing slow, grinning as you wailed in pain.
“Hurts, doesn't it? Let's see how painful we can make this.”
You were hardly prepped, only having wetness left behind from your previous phone call. It stung, and it stung bad. Your eyes wept as you looked up at him with a pleading gaze, hoping he would take mercy on you. He did no such thing, pinching your clit between his fingers and rolling it with intense pressure. Moaning, he watched as you convulsed and twitched in pain beneath him.
“Being such a good girl for me, kitty.”
Another glob of spit landed in the back of your throat, making you gasp and choke on your sobs. He loved that you were an ugly, messy crier. It only served to make his dick harder.
Once he bottomed out, he stayed there for a while, letting you feel the fullness of his thick cock.
“The name’s Shouta, by the way. I'm sure you must have been curious.”
He spoke so casually, so calmly. It made you furious how collected he was while you were a whimpering, sniffling mess.
“Don't worry; we’ll have all the time in the world once we’re done to get to know me.”
Goddamn, that voice. That hypnotizing, nauseating voice. It's the reason you're stuck here underneath a fucking phone sex operator that turned out to be your stalker. What a mess.
A tap to the temple pulled you back to the present.
“Keep your focus here, kitty.”
Hips drew back and snapped into you, not letting you take a moment to adjust as he set a brutal speed.
Oh, how you wished you could leave your body, but if anything, your senses were all the more enhanced, taking in every last drop of your surroundings. The sounds of the bed creaking under his pounding, his grunts and breaths, the skin slapping against skin, your own cries of misery. The feeling of his breath, how your once silk sheets now felt like sandpaper across your skin, the metal of your binds, and the burn of your rope. Everything and nothing all at once.
The minutes seemed to draw themselves out into hours as he continued his assault. He, or Shouta, you supposed, wasn't lasting very long. It didn't suit him; he seemed like a man of stamina. Maybe it was because he played out a sick fantasy of his that made him cum in minutes.
Unprotected, he came deep inside you before sliding out, giving your pussy a slap as he made his exit.
“Such a tight little kitty you've got there.”
Fingers at the ready, he stuffed his cum back inside you, toying with your clit all the while. He was quick to make you cum, making you see stars at the intensity of your orgasm.
“Don’t worry; I'll make you cum on my cock next time. I have plenty of games planned for us when I take you home.”
Pulling his fingers out, he pushed them down your throat to clean them before getting up and dressed again. He left you there, tied up and gone without a word.
In reality, he was just getting his car ready for you, but who was he to deny himself the pleasure of seeing your panicked face when he came back?
You were going to make a fine pet for him.
#yandere shouta aizawa#yandere shouta aizawa x reader#yandere aizawa#yandere aizawa x reader#shouta aizawa x reader#aizawa x reader#yandere my hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere mha#yandere bnha#tw: noncon#tw stalking#yandere x reader#yandere
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Space Bounty Hunter AS au
Warnings: gore mention, creature death (its mean anyway, Sabo being freaky as usual
———
It had been a relatively mild Sunday when Ace stumbled into Sabo’s workshop, drenched head to toe in blood.
“Could you not track all of that over my carpet? Drago only just recovered from the Mantis offal you left there last time.” Sabo doesn’t look up from his plating work when he addresses the freeloader.
Ace chuckles, sends lightning through Sabo’s veins, walks over concrete and not the saliva stained carpet to stand directly behind the blonde.
“Not my fault he never grew out of his suckling habit.” Ace murmurs, mouth close to Sabo’s scarred ear, the warmth of his blood soaked body even closer.
“It’s not my fault either, I’m just a human and he’s a giant reptile that got abandoned by his Mum as a pup.” Sabo replies mildly, nose crinkling up at the thick rusty scent of too much blood.
“Listen, I—“ Ace prepares to make his case when Sabo cuts him off, spinning about sharply on his chair to address the bounty hunter.
“You fucked your ship up didn’t you?” Sabo finally gets to see the state Ace has returned to him in. Rips and tears leave Ace’s normally hardy space suit in tatters around his body.
“Also, what the hell did you fight this time?“ Sabo hopes with the way Ace is moving that he’s not injured and not surviving off of blood packs and liquid shots of adrenaline.
“Freakwreaker.” Ace replies shortly, leaning in and bracing his palms against Sabo’s chair arms.
Well, that makes sense.
Sabo clicks his tongue sharply, he can see the intrigued glitter of six milky eyes in the gloom across the shop and their golden pupils dilate at the curdling scent of blood. Sabo clicks his tongue again and Drago blinks his scaly lids, chitters back and obeys Sabo’s command. Slinking further into the dim depths of the workspace, heavy clawed paws scraping across the stone floor.
“You stink.” Sabo comments, refocusing on Ace who had been so patiently waiting for his attention. The stench of gore is truly invasive at this point, Sabo sincerely hopes Ace didn’t bring a piece of the monster back as a trophy.
“Wow. I love you too,” Ace drawls, heavy brows raised in mock offense.
“No, I fucking mean it. You need to take a shower before we talk business.”
“You gonna join me?“ Ace leers, silver eyes glaring holes through the blonde’s welding gear, through the thin protection of his clothes even.
“Stop that.” Sabo snarls, knowing Ace’s inhuman eyes could see everything he had to offer in that particular moment. He knows, he operated on Ace’s eyes to begin with.
Fucking x-ray visioned bastard.
“Can’t help it, Bo.” Ace chuckles, shaking his head and when he opens his eyes again, the strange glow from within is gone.
“So, that a yes?“ Ace circles back to the shower invitiation.
“As tempting as it sounds, I’m going to have to pass.”
“I swear I don’t have anything stuck to me like last time.” Ace half pleads, voice on the verge of whiny and Sabo thinks he can resist the awful stench a little longer, if only to mess with Ace more.
“You know if you wanted to fuck me you’re gonna have to find a better way of asking.” Sabo nudges Ace away with his good knee, his daily quota of unmentionable smells was up.
“Alright, ask me how I killed it.” Ace grins, smile white and deadly.
“How did you kill the Freakwreaker, Ace?” Sabo pushes Ace back a little further, happy to play the game a little longer despite his burning nostrils.
A Freakwreaker wasn’t a nice creature to dispose of, classified as an Alpha species and as violent as they were invasive.
“I choked it out.” Ace whispers, hand blindly searching for Sabo’s naked ankle.
“Yeah?“ Sabo challenges, allowing Ace to yank him close, work chair wheels squealing across the floor. His pulse picks up when Ace’s grip around his ankle tightens ever so slightly.
“I lost my gun, I think it discharged it honestly,”
“You fought it barehanded?” Sabo asks, breathlessly. Surely Ace wouldn’t be so stupid.
“Mm. Dagger.” Ace confirms and Sabo sinks a little deeper into the plush leather of his chair. Fuck.
“But it disarmed you.” Sabo observes, he can see the sickly pattern of tightly packed suckers imprinted into Ace’s right arm, blood oozes sluggishly from the wound.
“So did I, literally.” Ace redirects Sabo’s awe back onto himself, cocky as always. His expression charming and unmarred by blood splashed across his freckled cheeks. Sabo bites on his lower lip in growing anticipation.
“I pinned that asshole down and killed him with its own limb.” Ace’s smile hinges on something cruel.
Sabo gasps softly, blushing full bodied at the mental imagery of Ace mounting the creature from behind, tugging coils of dismembered tentacle around its sinewy muscular predator neck and pulling tighter and tighter until their twin hearts gave out and exhaled no breath.
“Oh fuck.” Sabo says softly, tremulously. He’s lost the game.
He always loses when they do this but Ace likes to win and Sabo can live with that.
#saboace#acesabo#ace x sabo#boboace#xam writes#xam screams about bonkers stuff#xam scream#space bounty hunter au#i speeded through this i can write better i swear!!#but yeah Sabos a fucking NASTY BITCH!!! he gets of on how Ace kills things#hes gets off on danger and Ace is all of that in one sexy crazy package
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good boy
nsfw!!! sub!xiao x f!reader
edging, breeding, (very) mild possessive behavior, public sex, praise kink, blowjob, handjob, voyeurism (sort of??), kitty is used as a nickname i think, he’s wearing the collar from this fic
Xiao is a good boy.
Always listens and behaves himself, letting you play with him however you wish. Especially after the collar incident, he’s very pliant, allowing you to do more because you both know he loves it.
Speaking of the collar incident, he hasn’t taken it off since. Every time you see him now, that thick leather band is wrapped snuggly around his neck, with the four golden letters attached glinting whenever the light touches it. Purple splotches adorn the space all around the collar from time spent with you sucking on his skin while riding him until he cries.
His neck, you think, looks like a piece of art. You quite like it that way, and continue to darken the marks anytime they seem to fade.
Today is no different than any day. You go up to the top balcony at Wangshu Inn where he resides and expect to see him gazing out at the sky, looking as pretty as ever, and you’ll get to spend the day together.
Except that’s not where he is at all.
Walking out on him slumped back in a chair with that black collar around his neck and a hand pumping furiously at his cock was far from anything you thought you’d come across him doing, but there he is.
He notices you quick, eyes that are as wide as saucers staring up at you from his spot. You give him a small, teasing look and go to sit in the chair beside him.
It’s quiet for a few moments - his body completely rigid while you relax into your seat - until you break the silence.
“Aren’t you going to show me how to do it?” Of course, you already know, but you’d never miss an opportunity to see Xiao take himself apart.
He does, his hand wrapping back around himself to give a few shaky tugs. Seeing the way his hand shook, he must be nervous - he’s never had anyone watch him get off before.
Once he starts feeling it, though - lips parting for small whimpers to fit out, grip around himself tightening while he moves it faster up and down his length - he seems to calm back down.
You watch him quietly, letting him enjoy himself a little, bask in the feeling of his hand jacking himself off.
He’ll look up once in a while, as if wondering whether you’re still there and looking, but immediately whips his head back down to stare at his hard cock when you meet his eyes.
What a good boy. So sweet and shy despite being taken apart by you nearly every time you visit.
Once his hips start canting upwards and his breaths begin to speed up you stop him, gripping his wrist in order to cease his movements. He’s flushed and his chest rises and falls, hand falling down to his side.
You pat his thigh, “good kitty.”
It’s your turn now, both of your eyes glued to your own hand that turns into a fist and gives one single pull.
“A little dry, don’t you think?” You question, and he makes a noise of confusion when your hand releases his cock. “Need to get it wet.”
A look of realization flashes in his lidded eyes as he watches you lean down to spit onto the head of his length. It runs down the sides, all the way down to drip onto his balls. He shivers and whines at the sensation.
You take your job of getting him nice and slick a step further and lean the rest of the way down to take him into your mouth. Slowly, your head slides down, all the way until your lips touch the base.
“Oh god,” he practically sobs, moving lightning fast to grip at the back of your head. “Oh god oh god oh god oh god-“
You hold your head there as long as you can, his dick pushing against the back of your throat. It’s a lot for him, his hips would be kicking into your mouth if you hadn’t taken him all the way in already. A constant stream of moans leave him while you have your mouth around him.
After a quick decision to have a little fun, your head begins to bob up and down, tongue gliding wet along the side of his shaft. The hands that gripped at the back of your head pushed now, and his hips jumped to get himself further inside your warm mouth.
Again, you let him enjoy it for a while, his noises like music to your ears.
He must have been close from his first edge, and began to climb in volume, alerting you that he was getting close once more.
You indulge him, giving him sucks that had him crying out your name. He got really close this time, thighs and abdominals tensing with the oncoming orgasm.
The sensation of wet lips leave him right in that minute and he almost sobs. Your thumb and pointer go to squeeze the base of his cock, successfully cutting off his orgasm right before it came.
He falls back against his chair, eyes closed shut tight while he catches his breath and tries to go away from the edge. You rub comfortingly at the top of his thigh.
“You got really close there, huh?” He gulps in another big breath and nods in response.
A praise leaves you before you even though about it. “You held on so well. Good boy.”
His cock twitches at that and you grin, giving his thigh a pat.
Really, he is such a good boy. All for you, too - you love it.
When his heavy breathing finally devolves into lighter pants is when you choose to continue pleasuring him. With your hand in a circle shape, you hover right above his length.
“Ready?” You didn’t wait for a response, basking in the sound that rips from his throat when your fist slides down onto him.
This must feel much better than when he first jacked his cock, because the slide is smoother and allows you to create a fast rhythm that has his head falling backwards.
“‘S good, ‘s so good.” He moans so prettily with your hand around him, crying out pleas for more whilst his hands find purchase on the arms of the chair.
“Yeah?” You ask, closing your hold on him a little tighter. “It’s good? I bet you’re already close, huh?”
You didn’t need to ask that, already knew he could probably come any minute - but the way he reacts to your words, the way he answers your questions makes you speak often.
“Mnh-“ Any response he had dies quickly. Glancing up to him, you see his mouth open, moans and words getting caught in his heavy breaths and pants.
“Oh, look at you,” you coo, quickening your pace until his hips were fucking up into your fist and he was tensing with another oncoming orgasm.
Such a good boy, you think while your hand slips up the shaft of his wet cock.
“I can come this time? Please?”
He’s so sweet that you feel a bit bad making him hold back longer. Your hand slows and desperately he shakes his head at you.
“Not yet, kitty.” When he attempts to make your hand speed back up by covering it with his and pulling it up, you let go of him completely.
“So greedy today,” you tut, finger going to tap teasingly at his tip. “We haven’t even gotten to the main event.”
His head perks up a little at that.
Normally, you would straddle and ride him until the two of you were coming, but today you wanted to do things a little different.
Luckily you had brought a blanket along with you the last time you visited him. It had been night, a little chilly and so you had taken a soft fleece-y material blanket in your bag so you could relax on the balcony with Xiao without being cold.
It was folded atop the little table near where you sat, so you snatched it up and laid it out on the wooden balcony floor. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable but it would suffice - you’re sure your level of comfort won’t matter once the two of you finally start what you had planned.
You shed your clothes, fighting a smile when you catch him staring from the corner of your eye. Your head tilts slightly when you turn to face him. “Are you going to join me?”
His eyes were wide and he looked a little distant, but he followed suit, fumbling out of his clothes and joining you onto the blanket you had laid out.
“Kiss me,” you advise, pulling his head away from its spot against your neck, where he’d been sucking and biting at.
“I don’t want to kiss.”
The way his eyes follow your lips tell a different story than his words. He always does that - claims that he doesn’t want to kiss you, as if he’s playing hard to get. As if he doesn’t melt against you right when you place your lips on his.
Unconsciously, his lips chased yours after you pulled away. You laughed into another kiss, murmuring “you’re so needy,” against him.
He whines, not even denying what you told him.
“Kitty,” you call him to attention. “You’re going to do something for me, okay?”
He nods, enthusiastic to do whatever you needed. When you lean down onto your back and spread your legs, though, his brain malfunctions.
“You want to fuck me?”
Xiao hasn’t ever fucked you before. You were always atop him, grinding and riding his cock while he sat brainless and on the edge beneath you. It was somewhat of a reward to him for being such a good boy all the time - you were curious to see how he’d react.
A small shuffle forward, unsure of the new position that put him in some position of control. You widened the space between your legs more to accommodate him, having him slide forward all the way until his cock was resting on top of your cunt.
“Go ahead,” you encourage lightly.
You hear him take a small, steadying breath, before you feel the press of his head against your hole. You’re wet and ready for him so he slips in without a hitch.
As soon as he’s inside, he can’t seem to stop the noises he makes. “Wet, n’ tight, it’s so good- I-“
His hips slid back and bumped forward and he let out a long moan.
“I won’t last. I’ll come, I’ll come.”
A small coo, reaching out to wrap your hand lightly around his neck. “Not yet, kitty. Can you fuck me?”
You don’t need to ask him twice. The feel of your hot cunt around his cock is always so much for him, so once he starts thrusting you know he won’t last long.
“You know,” you murmur into his ear, “i was thinking. You should come inside me.”
Even though he always come inside, the thought still has him whimpering out a plea.
“You can breed me,” you add, “and make me all yours.”
That was new. He must like the idea of that, because he pistons in harder, faster, in a way that has your head falling back in pleasure.
“All mine,” he repeats, “all mine.”
“Mhm, all yours.” You regain your composure as best you can so you can continue speaking. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Breed and fill me up so much it’s leaking out. Do you want that?”
You wish there was a way you could record his reaction. He had paused half-thrust, whole body shuddering at the thought of doing what you suggested. It was so sweet, the minute he had to take so he didn’t come right on the spot.
Already, he was close, voice high and loud while he keeps fucking you. You assume he isn’t used to the work it takes to fuck into you repeatedly like this, but he’s doing so well that you give him some sweet praises that mix with your breathy moans.
He’s such a good boy.
“Can I come, c’n I come, please- oh fuck.”
“Aw, you want to fill me up?” He whines high at that, collapsing into you while his hips work hard against yours.
You don’t give him permission, letting him get desperate while you get closer to the edge yourself. For not being experienced in doing the fucking, he was hitting so good inside you, so good that you were clamping down onto his cock.
He was so loud you were surprised no one came up here worried and wondering what was going on - truthfully this has been going on long enough for them to have figured it out.
More please spew from him, and, a little out of it, you nod.
With a few harsh final pushes inside, he releases, and the feeling of his load inside you has you tipping over as well. The rhythmic pulses of your cunt around him, milking him of every last drop makes his hips kick and a pathetic little overstimulated sob leave him.
“Mine,” he says breathlessly to nobody in particular - just voicing it.
What a good boy.
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Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??
Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party.
Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation
You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.
For this event, you needed a solid six.
One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.
But Hannibal had different plans for you.
Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.
"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.
"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."
He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."
The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse.
“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily.
“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.”
“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure.
“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...”
“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.
You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.”
Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.”
“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.”
“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.”
Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.
You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.
Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.
"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.
"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"
Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.
“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”
"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"
The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.
"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."
"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."
Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."
The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."
You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."
"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."
This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.
“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.”
The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.
Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”
“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.”
Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.”
“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”
Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence.
"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.
"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."
"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.
Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."
"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."
You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home.
"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"
Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.
"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.
"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."
The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."
David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"
"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."
David shrugged. "Fine."
Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.
"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying.
“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?”
She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”
Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset.
“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.”
Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.”
You nodded. “Thank you.”
Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.
“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually.
“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.”
Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.
“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.”
You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.”
“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?”
You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody.
“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist.
“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”
You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved.
“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.”
The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.
Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you.
“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?”
You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.”
A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.”
“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.”
“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly.
“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.”
Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.”
Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.”
“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.”
He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees.
“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.”
“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.”
Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.”
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LAYING CLAIM
» pairing: dabi x fem!reader
» cw: dubcon, revoked consent, noncon (we’re going on a journey, okay?), rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, crying, gratuitously fanon characterization. 18+, minors DNI.
» a/n: Started this months and months ago, and since I’m finally getting around to wrapping some WIPs, I guess you can have it now. Thanks @thebiggergroove for beta-reading!
» wc: 5.3k
» ao3 mirror
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The thing about Dabi is he's not usually a possessive guy. Fucking is fucking, as far as he's concerned—it doesn't really matter who is doing it with whom as long as everyone is getting off on it. But goddamn if there isn't something about you that makes him want to make you his.
And he's gotten that, more or less. It took some sweet talking and cajoling, and a few late nights where he made you come until you couldn't see straight, but you agreed not to go sleeping with anyone else. Sure, you've made him promise the same, but that's fine. Not that he's going to actually stop, of course, but he goes out on recruiting missions alone and he figures what you don't know won't hurt you.
That's all enough to satisfy him, at least for a little while. But then a few weeks pass and there it is again: that stupid jealousy and all those unbidden thoughts about the people you were with before him. People he knows. You never talk in too much detail about your past hookups, but he's not stupid, is all too aware that he's not the first one in this ragged band of miscreants that you've crawled into bed with. You've fucked Jin, and Shigaraki, and probably even Magne, god rest her soul—Dabi hadn't missed the way the two of you had huddled up giggling in the corner of the old bar one night, disappearing together unusually early, making those bedroom eyes at each other. And in theory that's fine. Nothing wrong with two girls having fun together, after all. Hell, bi chicks are hot and Dabi wouldn't mind taking advantage of that someday.
But first he needs to find a way to get the image of you with your legs spread for half the League out of his goddamn head.
If he's being honest, it's Shigaraki who bothers him the most. Magne is dead. Jin is a decent dude and, Dabi has to imagine, tame as a kitten in the sack. But Shigaraki, well...Dabi can tell just by looking at the guy that he's a freak, and the idea of you riding Shigaraki's dry, crusty dick, of letting him do who-knows-what filthy shit to you? It just gets to him.
And then Toga has to suggest that stupid game and go putting ideas in his head.
You're all sitting around the crumbling office space that passes for a hideout, drinking to celebrate the League's first successful double-amputation (because fuck that germophobic, transphobic prick), and blondie is just begging to play a drinking game. Normally Dabi doesn't go for that shit—why anyone needs an excuse to get wasted is beyond him—but he's in a good mood, and you make that adorable pouty face as you tell him that you played in college, that it's really fun, and somehow he finds himself sitting in a circle on the dusty floor with the rest of you losers playing 'I haven't' or whatever the fuck it's called.
It's all bland shit to start. Toga's never driven a car, Shigaraki's never gone to school. But, after you've made your way around the circle once, everyone seems to be loosening up and Spinner takes one for the team by getting to the interesting shit and admitting he's never slept with a girl. It spurs a moment of awkward silence made all the worse by his red face and obvious self-consciousness about being a virgin, but then Compress stage-whispers "Neither have I," before winking salaciously at the blushing lizard and taking a dramatic pull from his beer bottle. It's enough to lighten the mood.
After that, Dabi's forced to admit it's a decent game. There's not much he hasn't done sexually or criminally, and since those are the two topics everyone focuses on, he finds himself getting hammered faster than usual. It's a good thing too—his buzz makes it easier to ignore the look you and Shigaraki exchange when Jin announces that he's never tried watersports, easier to pretend his gut isn't twisting at the knowing smirk on your leader's face as he raises his beer bottle to drink and you follow suit.
That particular moment makes it all the more surprising when, on your next turn, you hide an embarrassed face behind your hand and announce that you've never taken it in the ass.
Dabi can't stop thinking about it the rest of the night. Obsessing over it, and the idea of being your first, your only, even if only in some less than conventional way. The thing is, it's downright tame in comparison to a lot of what you two get up to, so barely even kinky that it's almost impossible to believe you've never tried it. Sure, you've never done it together, but he'd just figured neither of you were all that into it, since it hadn't come up when you were doing lewd shit to each other.
That kind of sex is fine from his perspective, but only fine. He doesn't actively seek it out because in his mind nothing beats the feel of being balls-deep in a warm pussy, but that doesn't mean he hasn't done it. He's hooked up with plenty of girls that were into it and has always been happy to oblige; hell, he's even taken it more than once, on account of the fact that when it comes to the bedroom he's willing to try anything twice.
But doing it with you? Well, that thought sticks. The two of you finally go to bed and Dabi's so turned on by the idea of your virgin ass that he can't help testing the waters, prodding teasingly at that tight hole with one spit-slicked finger until you're squirming away and whining. He doesn't manage to convince you right then, but he makes those puppy dog eyes that are far more effective than they have any right to be, and you agree to give it a go in the future.
"Not here," you specify, the words fuzzy on your drunken tongue. "Someplace nicer, with a real bed." You already have your reservations, and you certainly don't relish the idea of undertaking that particular venture now, on a worn mattress in this falling apart building, with its paper-thin walls and complete lack of hot water. Between your booze-fueled haze and the seeming interminability of the League's poverty, you mostly forget about that casual promise by the following morning.
But Dabi doesn't. He picks up a small bottle of lube the next day and carries it around in his pocket shamelessly, a little reminder that he has something to look forward to besides roasting that prick Endeavor, and he strokes himself off to the idea more than he's proud to admit as he waits for the League to move on to better things. He can be patient, when he needs to be.
That patience takes a toll though, and the minute the League settles into their new digs in Re-Destro's sprawling villa, where there's actually privacy and clean, comfortable beds, Dabi shows up at your door with a cheshire grin and every intention of finally getting something from you that's just for him.
You grimace when you remember that promise, try briefly to talk him out of it even, but he isn't so easily dissuaded. It's made all the harder by the fact that you can't give him a specific reason why you've never tried it, beyond that it seems uncomfortable and you hadn't particularly enjoyed the couple instances when you'd allowed someone to slip a finger or two in there.
"C'mon, baby girl," Dabi coos, his breath hot in your ear as he pins you to the wall, working two unnaturally warm fingers into your cunt. "I'll make sure it's good for you. Be gentle, get you nice and warmed up first, all that sweet shit."
It really is unfair how persuasive he can be when he fixes those pleading turquoise eyes on you. The way the pads of his fingers are curling just right deep inside isn't helping either, and he teases you like that until you give in to his cajoling, though you still insist on waiting a couple nights so that you can do your research and make sure you're entirely prepared. Dabi demonstrates his appreciation by burying his face in your cunt and not surfacing for air until you've come three times and are begging for a break.
When the night finally arrives, Dabi's feeling positively giddy. He slips into your bedroom with a bottle of wine and a couple glasses he's brought, a little something to help you relax because he's a gentleman when he wants to be. It should be good booze too—he lifted it from Re-Destro's private stash, and he's certain baldy doesn't drink anything that costs less than ¥30,000. Of course, Re-Destro doesn't love sharing either, but the uptight prick is too scared of Shigaraki to complain about anything the League does. They all take advantage of that, because they can and because it's fun to watch him bite his tongue when they piss him off.
You don't make it easy for Dabi to focus on pouring the drinks though, not when you're reclining in that armchair by the window, freshly showered and fidgeting nervously. He was half-erect before he got here from just thinking about what he was going to do to you, and the sight of you acting like you're some blushing virgin spurs him all the way to rock-hard. By the time your glasses are close to empty, he's straining uncomfortably in his pants, and can't fight back his impatience any longer.
"What do you think, doll?" he murmurs, setting his glass to the side and standing up, shrugging his jacket off before leaning down to ghost his lips over your neck. "You ready to move this to the bed?"
The way you chew at your lower lip anxiously before nodding makes his dick throb.
You empty your glass with one final, large swallow, your heart racing as you rise. You know it's stupid—you and Dabi have fucked countless times and a lot of it hasn't exactly been vanilla—but it's been a long time since you've actually tried anything new. His obvious excitement doesn't help either, paradoxically; it leaves you fretting about what will happen if you're somehow bad at this, or if you can't take it and have to stop. You've never really worried about disappointing him before, but now the thought weighs acutely on your mind.
It's with halting steps that you approach the bed and then, when you can't realistically drag your feet any longer, you finally tug the nightgown you're wearing off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor to reveal what's underneath.
"Damn, baby girl," Dabi breathes, looking you up and down. You'd figured that since it was a special occasion you might as well dress up, donning a strappy bra and panties. They're little more than elaborate, crisscrossing pieces of lace, all white since he'd seemed so fixated on this pseudo-innocent, first-time act. His reaction doesn't disappoint, eyes lighting up as he stares at you hungrily.
You let yourself fall back on the bed, nestling against the many pillows. The look on his face has your stomach fluttering, and the wine has helped you to relax a bit despite your nerves, a pleasant warmth spreading throughout your body. It's joined by a different kind of heat when you feel the mattress dip beneath Dabi's weight as he positions himself over you, one knee resting between your thighs, just barely brushing against your center, a hint of what's to come.
"You look so good I could just eat you up," Dabi whispers hotly against your ear before tracing his lips over your jaw. Even though he wants to take his time, let himself savor this, it's taking every ounce of patience he has to keep the promise he made to get you worked up and ready for him, to not to tear those pretty bits of satin and lace off and have his way with you right then.
You whine eagerly when his mouth slants hungrily over yours, savoring the feel of those mismatched lips, the way the rough skin of the bottom one contrasts so deliciously with the top. Hot hands run over your sides as the kiss deepens, your tongues tangling together, and you moan against him.
When you finally break for air, Dabi moves his lips to your throat, his tongue lapping at your pulse before he sinks his teeth into you. He loves to mark you up, loves making sure everyone can see that you're indisputably his, and it's even hotter now that he knows he's going to fuck you in a way no one else has. You're shivering beneath him as he works, your hand tugging insistently at his hair, and Dabi lets out a low, throaty growl.
"Guess I'm not the only one who's eager, huh?"
Your hips tilt in response, pressing needily into his firm thigh, and Dabi can feel the skin on his cheeks straining against his staples as he grins. He traces one hand up over your ribs, cupping at your supple breasts, teasing your hardening nipple through the flimsy fabric of your bra. Those deft fingers work under the seam of your lingerie as he shifts his weight, increasing the pressure against your center while he pinches and tugs at the peaks of your breasts until you're whimpering, spreading slick along his leg even through your thin panties.
Dabi pulls away abruptly, rolling onto his back and tugging at you to change positions, shaking his head when you move to mount his hips.
"Come here, baby girl," he says, his tongue tracing over his bottom lip. "Like I said, I wanna eat you up."
The promise in those words sends a bolt of heat straight through your core as he guides you to straddle his face, hot breath tickling your inner thighs. One calloused thumb brushes your clit lightly through your underwear, blue eyes sparkling when your breath hitches at that soft touch. When he pulls that useless fabric to the side and runs his tongue over your already-damp slit, you shudder.
Dabi lets out a pleased groan at your reaction and gets to work more earnestly, lapping at your sensitive nub, licking and sucking until you're moaning and only then shifting a little so that he can lap at your insides, that same rough thumb replacing the pressure of his tongue on your clit. It strokes firm circles as he buries that hot, wet muscle inside you, the metal barbell there teasing your inner walls as you grind involuntarily against it. You can't help but whine when he withdraws it, but that disappointment is quickly replaced by you startling as that same wet muscle extends further back to tease at your puckered entrance.
"A-ah, Dabi, wait," you protest, your face heating up self-consciously almost at once.
Dabi pauses, shifting just enough to keep his reply from being muffled as one warm hand runs reassuringly up your thigh. "I don't think I can help myself, doll," he says, his slick-coated lips splitting into a wide grin, "you just taste too good."
That heat in your face worsens as he dives back in, not even waiting for you to respond before he's flexing his tongue to poke at that tight ring of muscle. You still try to squirm away, feeling unprepared for this. You hadn't even considered it among the possible activities were volunteering to participate in, but Dabi is holding you firmly in place with the hand not working at your clit, and when another whine of protest escapes you, it's weaker than the first. The foreign sensation of his tongue against your neglected hole has you hyperaware of the press of his thumb at your apex, and you can feel tension building in your core even as you writhe in embarrassment.
It's as though he knows, too, and you suppose maybe he does; after all, he's the one who's done this before. He thrusts his tongue a little deeper, rolling your clit between two hot fingers with enough pressure to cut off any further protests. A long moan is the only sound you can muster as you spill over the edge, your thighs clenching around his head and your hips jerking shakily as you ride out your climax with his tongue still buried obscenely in your rear.
Dabi's face is covered in your juices by the time he slides from between your thighs, and he wipes it away carelessly with one arm as he repositions you again, pinning you on your back and wasting no time peeling away your now-soaked panties. He grins at the sight of your glistening folds and swollen clit before stripping off most of his own clothes, kicking them unceremoniously to the side and relaxing between your legs, kissing at your still-trembling thighs.
He teases at your sensitive cunt with his fingers, coating them in your juices as you whimper. "Ready for a little more?" he asks, and you nod despite the fact that your cheeks are still burning from before and your stomach is knotting with nerves.
"Just...go slow, okay?"
"Of course, baby girl," he promises, "I told you I'd take good care of you." With that, he starts to work you open, dipping one finger into your tight hole just until he reaches the first knuckle, working it in and out slowly. His other hand toys at your clit, stroking and rolling that puffy nub again, making you mewl.
Dabi waits until you're relaxed before trying any more, pulling away from you just long enough to dig the lube from the pocket of his discarded pants, coating his fingers with it. He works that lone finger deeper this time, in and out until it's buried to the last knuckle.
The sensation is strange, but not entirely unpleasant; even if you think you'd rather have that finger curling in your cunt, the slight stretch is still adding to the faint throb already growing inside you, the one that worsens when his thumb returns to your apex.
"Fuck, you're so tight," Dabi growls when one well-placed stroke of his thumb has you clenching lightly around his finger. He ruts his hips against the sheets, trying vainly to find some relief for his aching member, but it's not enough—he needs to feel you, needs the vice-like grip clutching his fingers to be wrapped around his cock, and he needs it soon.
You feel him withdraw to add more lube, and then he's fingering you again, adding another digit to stretch you wider. It comes with a stab of discomfort when he forces his way past the second knuckle, and you reflexively try to pull back. "Dabi, that's too much."
He abandons his soothing attentions to your clit, one warm palm pressing you tight against the mattress to keep you in place, stroking soothingly at your hip. His breath tickles over your inner thigh as he chuckles softly. "If you can't take this, how are you ever gonna take me, hmm?" he says teasingly. "You're doing great, baby, just relax."
You will yourself to unclench, trying to picture Dabi's satisfied face once you're taking him, that adoring look he sometimes gives you, the one that you relish. Your efforts are only marginally effective, but Dabi keeps pushing deeper, fucking you slowly but insistently with those fingers, and when you don't complain again, his thumb returns to caressing your sex.
"That's a good girl." Dabi picks up the pace, cursing under his breath. "You're doing so good."
You're wriggling against his hand now, trying to increase the friction at your center, not quite minding the foreign sensation of his fingers and the uncanny fullness they bring so much now that there's heat thrumming in your core. "Y-yeah, like that," you pant encouragingly, and Dabi grins.
"That doing it for you?" he purrs. "Think you can take more?"
You start to shake your head—the stretch now feels like all you can handle—but Dabi's already adding a third slick finger, shoving it in with less restraint than before. You feel more than discomfort this time when three knuckles breach your asshole, and it quickly dampens the arousal that had been steadily building. "Dabi, slow down," you gasp.
"Aw, are you sure you can't handle it?" His blue eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide with arousal as he looks you over with the hungry gaze. "'Cause if I'm being honest, it feels like you're trying to suck me in. Like this greedy little hole wants to get fucked."
The huskiness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, even as another whine of discomfort escapes you. For just a second his expression darkens slightly, but then he's slowing his movements, twisting his fingers instead of thrusting them in and out.
"Better?" he asks, and you think you catch an edge of impatience in his voice.
It is better though, a little at least, enough that you can focus on the way your cunt flutters every time his thumb strokes over your clit. So you just nod; it's not like this wasn't bound to be a little unpleasant at points, right?
Dabi's smile stretches wider, his thumb working faster. A mewl slips from between your lips and Dabi takes that as encouragement, his fingers resuming their persistent thrusts. It's still uncomfortable, though not quite as bad as when he started, and your teeth sink into your lower lip to bite back your complaints. You let your eyes fall closed instead, trying to focus on his attentions to your hooded nub, on the heat that's pooling in your lower belly. You're inching towards another release, and you let a hand lift to your breast, tweaking at the pebbled flesh of one nipple to help yourself along.
"D-dabi, I'm close," you stammer, your hips bucking against his hand.
"Yeah?" His movements speed up, his voice breathy and excited. "Do it, baby girl. Come for me and then I'm gonna fuck this tight little ass of yours."
You swallow hard, trying not to dwell on those words for now—you can tell you've loosened up more, tolerating the jab of his fingers, but his cock is substantially larger than those, all too intimidating. Thankfully, it's not hard to remain distracted, to focus only on your approaching peak.
Dabi can feel that orgasm rip through you when it hits, your asshole clenching around his fingers as you keen, and it's then that he reaches the limits of his patience. He needs you now, needs the thrill of burying himself in your tight ass and claiming you for his own, of reaching his own release deep inside and then watching his seed spill out afterwards. What a satisfying sight that will be.
He scrambles up from between your legs to catch your lips with his, fumbling his boxers off as his tongue invades your mouth. When he pulls away, his eyes are bright, needy. "Ready for me?" he asks.
You're not, not really, but you can see the fervor in his eyes, hear the urgency in his voice, and you convince yourself that he won't be able to work you open much more with his fingers no matter what. Your agreement doesn't matter anyway—he's already rolling you onto your side and slotting his chest against your back, his straining erection poking at the cleft between your thighs.
"Like this?" you ask, surprised by the choice of position.
"Just like this," he pants in your ear. His teeth nibble at your lobe as he slicks his cock generously with lube. "Want you spooned against me so I can see those cute faces you make, feel you squirming when you take me."
And fuck, when he slips one hand back down to finger your asshole one last time, it doesn't disappoint—your body ripples against him when that invasion catches you off guard, and he can see the way your lips part obscenely as you gasp at his touch. His fingers abandon your tight hole almost as quickly as they'd entered, and then Dabi is aligning himself with your entrance, using the last of his restraint not to slam his hips forward and bury himself inside with a single thrust.
You can feel the spongy head of his glans, and the slick coolness of the ring that adorns his tip, prodding at your rear. One of his arms worms its way under your side, his hand groping distractedly at your breasts as you tense in anticipation.
"Relax, baby girl," he murmurs, but he doesn't wait for you to even try. He's already slipping in, moving slowly until he encounters resistance an inch or so inside, and then pausing.
He has to struggle to keep his composure. Even like this, with not even the full head of his cock in your ass, his balls are tightening, just the thought of what he's doing nearly enough to send him over the brink. He waits until he's sure that won't happen and then starts moving, pushing insistently to work you open around his length with shallow thrusts.
"A-ah, Dabi, g-go easy," you stutter, already squirming. You can feel your body resisting the intrusion, so much larger than his fingers, and it aches slightly every time he tries to breach that inner ring.
"I am, baby, don't worry. I'll take care of you." His cheek is nuzzling against yours, his lips kissing and sucking wherever he can reach, but his motions don't change at all even as he murmurs so sweetly. He only slings one arm over your hips, toying lazily at your clit. That attention helps you relax, helps distract you a little, but it's not enough to prepare you for when he drives himself in further, finally surging past that taut band of muscle.
The invasion brings a sharp pain, one that has you crying out. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your body reflexively contorting to try and escape the cause of that hurt, but his arms tighten around you, holding you in place as he continues to work himself deeper with every thrust.
"Dabi, that hurts." Your words are sharper this time as each stroke sends another unpleasant throb through your overstretched hole, but his only response is to plunge the fingers rubbing at your clit into your dripping cunt.
"Shh, you're doing great." He curls his fingers, stroking against that spongy spot deep inside. It makes you writhe, but that does nothing to address the pain between your legs as he fucks you.
"Dabi, don't, that's not helping, I—"
"It's okay, baby girl, you're taking me so well," Dabi coos. You'll adjust, he knows you will—you're usually up for anything, of course you can take this. And fuck, there's no way he can stop now, not when it's even better than he'd imagined—hotter and softer, your pillowy walls enveloping his length every time he plunges into you, the exquisite tightness of your entrance massaging his shaft with each thrust.
"I'm not— I don't— I don't want to do this anymore." You can hear the desperate edge in your voice now. Your heart is racing and there's a cold sweat forming on your skin as tears of pain and confusion start to leak down your cheeks. "Dabi, stop."
"Shh, shh, you're fine. You—fuck—you feel so amazing. 'S never been this good with anyone else, fuck."
"I don't care, I don't want this." You can't understand what's happening, why he's not listening. You twist your head to look at him, pleading with your eyes, but he's barely even focusing on you. His blue eyes are glazed and half-lidded as his lips wander over your shoulders and your neck, all the while murmuring those useless reassurances against your skin. You're thrashing now, your feet scrambling for purchase on the sheets as you try frantically to pull away, but he keeps his tight grip on you, one of his legs hooking around your own to hold you in place. "Dabi, I said stop!"
He shushes you again, rutting into you harshly, and a choked sob escapes you when he bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your backside as you struggle against him. You feel sick to your stomach, and it only worsens when he pulls out until nothing but his tip remains, then drives himself back in with one agonizingly rough thrust.
You keep begging, pleading, wracking your brain and trying every past safe word you can recall, but he only continues to pound into you, his breathing erratic as he pants in your ear. "It's okay, baby. You're taking my cock like such a good girl. You're—ngh—making me feel so good."
The ache between your legs is diminishing slightly as you adjust to his girth, your body entirely unconcerned with whether you want that or not. He's still fingering your sopping cunt too, his palm grinding against your oversensitive clit with each plunge of his long digits, the lewd squelching sound of those attentions mingling with the sharp slap of his hips against your ass as he fucks you.
"You like this?" he asks, but you know he's not really asking. "You like knowing I'm the only one? That I'm making you mine, just mine, just like how it should be?"
"Dabi, stop. Please stop." Your appeals are feeble now, far more for yourself than for him as you continue to utter them between quiet sobs. Dabi's somewhere far away, awash in the tight heat of your ass and the satisfaction of finally staking his claim on you, aware of your supplications but not hearing them, not really.
You slump, still sobbing, and let him take what he wants. His attentions to your cunt have a coil tightening in your gut, but when your climax hits it's perfunctory and mechanical, no real pleasure to be found even as your hips jerk and your holes spasm, a joyless whine passing from your lips.
No real pleasure for you, at least. But fuck, the feel of you squeezing around his cock as you come is what Dabi has been waiting for, your insides massaging his length as though desperate for him to decorate your walls with his cum. It's a gift he's glad to grant—he rocks his hips more urgently, keeping his thrusts shallow now so that he's sure to get it all deep inside.
"Fuck," he groans against your neck. "Gonna make me come, baby girl. That what you want? Want me to fill you up?" You shake your head, but his movements are already growing spurtive and erratic, his grunts louder and throatier, and then you can feel his cock jerking inside you, a hot rush of cum flooding your guts.
Dabi doesn't stop then, either, keeps fucking his seed into you until he's softening, not quite able to work himself in and out of your tight, abused hole any longer, and only then does he finally pull out, a dribble of cum leaking obscenely down your thigh.
You're sniffling, drawing shaky breaths, and you try to pull away the moment his arms relax around you. They only tighten again, his lips planting soft kisses along your temple.
"Shh," he murmurs. The sound of his shushing makes you want to scream. One hand lifts to wipe at the tears on your cheeks. "You were so good, baby girl, there's no need to cry. You were fucking incredible." He means it too, doesn't think he's ever come so hard in his life as he did now, making you his.
Dabi can't wait to do it again.
#dabi x reader#dabi x you#dabi x y/n#mha dabi#bnha dabi#dabi#dabi smut#dabi fanfic#fanon dabi#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bnha smut#bnha fanfic#bnha reader insert#reader insert#tw: noncon#tw: dubcon#tw: crying
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Psychic Wedding Time!
Art by @/cowboyologist
After months of holding back, we finally tied the ole knot! Me and the conman are officially hitched today September 10, 2021!
This silly little blonde anime man means an awful lot to me and its really more than I can say. These months with him have been a great help.
When I went through some of the roughest things I've ever gone through, I had him to think about for comfort. He is a little part in what keeps me going and I wish I could thank him for everything. He sparks a lot of joy so I think I'm gonna keep him!
I've never been happier and I'm so lucky to call him husband! He's had such a positive impact and I love him so, so much.
Special thank you to my friends and of course our son Mob who carried the rings!
Under the cut is a little fic about getting ready for the wedding. Thanks everyone for your support!
Reigen squinted at his reflection, dark eyes hauntingly focused on a strand of hair that didn't take to the product he put in it. A grunt of dismay rumbled low in his throat.
"Um…Reigen?"
"Just a second, Serizawa. Almost got it."
The taller man's voice wavered but he managed to hold fast and keep his confidence. Reigen could almost hear his hands wringing.
"Er...Well. Its just...you've been staring at yourself for a little over 20 minutes now and you haven't moved and…"
Reigen sucked his teeth and pressed his palm firmly to the side of his head. Damned strand of hair! Slick like the rest of it! Don't you know know day it is?!
"What I mean is..! Are you alright?" Serizawa finally asked, his voice heavy with concern. "Since it's your wedding and all I figured you'd be nervous but you seem really on edge. Is something bothering you?"
The blonde twitched.
"W...what are you talking about? Of course not! I'm calm and-" He stopped abruptly and slammed his hands flat on either side of the mirror, his eyes wide and bloodshot upon inspection of his suit. A fleck of black thread pervaded his white vest and he looked around frantically for the lint roller. "You thought you could hide but you can't best Reigen Arataka." He muttered as he furiously went over his all but pristine wedding attire.
His best man scratched his own cheek nervously and looked on with clear uncertainty. "If you're sure."
Once he was satisfied after a thorough inspection and having Serizawa scrutinize the back, he dropped into a chair. Nearby was a table decorated in what was probably a thousand congratulatory flowers from clients. He exhaled and stared a hole into the arrangement of colors. His heart was pounding. His brow, coupled with his hands, were visibly slick with chilled sweat. His stomach was full of stones.
He met his own gaze in the mirror again. He looked well kept and yet...disheveled at the same time. Come to think of it, his face was flushed the shade of his usual pink tie. The last 3 days without sleep also hollowed out dark circles under his eyes. His shirt collar began to feel more and more constricting as time went on no matter how much he tugged on it.
Maybe he really was scared.
He didn't doubt that he loved Mitty. In fact, he wanted to be with him more than anyone. A case of cold feet wouldn't change that. It was himself he was wrestling with here.
Spirits, monsters, and deadly espers. He'd faced them all and came out on top. But they were nothing compared to these looming expectations to be a person to rely on. This wasn't something he could bullshit his way through. This was marriage. Mitty was going to see the warted underbelly of when he was Reigen the man instead of Reigen the psychic. His fiancé was going to experience sides of him he only revealed when he was alone. Would he still like him even then?
Reigen was good at a lot of things but this had to be the one that counted most. Could he really be a good partner forever?
Was he really going to cut it as a husband?
"Hey, Serizawa?" Reigen asked, not looking at him.
The man's shoulders lurched at his name suddenly being called. He straightened his back. "Oh! Yes sir?"
"Do you think we'll be good together?"
Silence sat heavily for a moment. Every second felt longer than the last.
His friend seemed taken aback by the question but nonetheless looked at the ceiling as though collecting the right words to answer. "Well…"
Another moment passed and Reigen waited with his hands clasped and breath baited.
"I've never been with anyone so I can't say for certain what a good relationship is but," A compassionate smile spread across the esper's face before he continued, visibly more sure of his words. "I think you and Mr. Mitty understand each other. You always seem to know what the other is thinking. You motivate each other to be better and you seem happy when you're together. And...and you trust each other too. And I think that's whats important."
Reigen looked at the velveted floor. "Then…"
"You've become more honest by being with him and he talks like you're really important to him. So please...get married if it makes you both happy! I think you can really be something!" His friend was beaming with
what Reigen could only say was genuine assurance.
"I really believe you'll take care of each other."
His co-worker actually really was resourceful. Maybe someday he ought to pay him more. The uncomfortable feelings waned slightly and his shoulders slowly slacked. Mitty was waiting for him so now wasn't the time to lose it.
After a few seconds of letting his feelings iron themselves out, he stood and smoothed his hands over his suit jacket. "Well alright then. If thats what you think then I guess there's no backing out of this one."
Serizawa pressed his hands together in delight. "YES! I've got your back, Reigen!"
The door into the hallway opened and a set of black eyes peered into the room. "Master, It's starting. Are you coming?"
The jarring announcement had him scrambling to fix the piece of hair he'd been fussing with.
"OF COURSE." He jabbed his thumb into his own chest to feign total confidence. "Right behind you, Mob!"
He held his breath. Alright, let's do this.
Mitty POV
Teal eyes darted around the room carefully.
"Hey...Dimple? You there?"
The whizzing of the spirit materializing buzzed next to his ear.
"Yeah whaddya want? You're on soon, aren't you?"
Mitty jabbed his right hook into the air where the voice was coming from. "AGH WHAT THE HELL?"
A swift flash of green dodged his reach.
"HEY, why are you hitting me?! You asked for ME, remember?" The ghost clucked his tongue in disapproval and floated a few inches away for safety.
"WELL MATERIALIZE WHERE I CAN SEE YOU, YOU BIG BOOGER! I'm on edge!"
"On edge? What for? You're the one who wanted this, right?"
"W..well….yeah, sorry." He looked at his clenched fist and opened it. "...sorry." He said again more thoughtfully this time.
Dimple raised a spectral eyebrow. "Whats wrong? Having second thoughts? I mean it's Reigen so who can blame ya."
Mitty scowled while straightening his tie in the mirror. "Hey! REIGEN'S…." His voice softened closer to a whisper. "A pretty good guy. Get off my case. Aren't you supposed to be my support? You're being kinda harsh!"
"Well kid, something is obviously on your mind so let's hear it. Wedding starts soon right? Yeesh. Once you do all this he's your problem forever."
"I'm not worried about him!! I'm more worried about...me."
"About you? What're you talkin' about?! You're too good for him!"
"Thanks for the flattery. You still can't have my body though."
"Well I didn't want it anyways, ya bastard. You're weak compared to Shigeo. I'm just being honest here!"
Silence.
"So? Out with it, What did you want anyways? You're talking nonsense here!"
Mitty wrinkled his nose in discomfort. "I just needed to ask something. But you can't run your mouth off like you always do, you old gossip. You're like a knitting circle."
"TCH. like I'd blabber your business to someone. It's all so boring."
"Yeah, yeah just listen, alright?!"
Another few seconds passed. "So? Say it. We don't have all day, you know."
He was looking at his hands again like he was somewhere far off. "Well. D...D'you think I'll be good at this?"
"Good at what, exactly?"
"Being married."
Dimple's form rippled with thought. "You're seriously worried about that?"
Mitty was going to make a sharp remark but his head dropped and his face buried into his knuckles. "Yeah."
Dimple deflated slightly in exasperated defeat. Humans could be so ignorant.
"Listen. That fraud never shuts up about you. You think you're not good enough? You should hear him talk. It's annoying how you both don't realize things."
"Realize things?"
He sighed and shrugged his tiny arms. "I hear everything whether you like it or not. You two idiots never stop talking and moaning about the other is too good for the other. It's getting old, really."
"HUH? He says that? No way! But he's always beaten me at everything! I always thought he was way out of my league."
"Kinda the opposite actually but...sure. What I'm saying is…! You're both seeing the best parts of each other. Keep doing that and it'll be smooth sailing."
"Yeah but...what if he stops seeing the best in me?'
"You planning on making things hard?"
"Not really. I just know I can be difficult to deal with."
"So is he. You really think you got this far because Reigen's all roses and sunshine? 'Course not. You've seen all the stuff he does and you still like him, right?"
He certainly was flawed, that was for sure. Mitty spent most of Reigen's antics with his eyes rolled up in his head but that didn't mean he wasn't enjoying the moment either.
"Right."
"Then it's the same for him. Sure it won't always be fun but that phoney won't give up on you just because you're annoying. He's way too persistent. It kind of ticks me off."
I'm annoying??? That stung but he shook it off.
Reigen was going to have to deal with him for the rest of his life once they said the right words. But if Dimple was right...would it be so bad to annoy each other for the rest of their lives if the other was willing to put up with it?
Reigen seemed okay with it so far. Mitty would just have to listen to him make a fuss about his coffee table clutter until he died. But really, he wouldn't have that any other way. His voice was kind of cute when he hit that inhuman octave he had when he was in disbelief.
The door from the hall swung open and a blond clad in what was perhaps the most blinding and loud suit he had ever seen poked his head in.
"Oh, You're still in here? It's bad luck to be late on your wedding day! Master Reigen is waiting. " He cocked his head to the side. "Or did you need some help with your suit? Its looking a little plain."
Hanazawa. This kid would try to accessorize his suit in the worst way possible. He put up his hands to wave him off.
"N-nah, kiddo that's alright. I'll be right there."
Hanazawa, after a few more attempts to get Mitty to let him help retreated back into the hallway. When it was quiet again he eyed Dimple. He was abrasive and unpleasant. He always had a motive for everything and rarely had something nice to say.
But he came through when it mattered.
"Hey Dimple?"
"Yeah? What is it?"
"Thanks."
Dimple wouldn't meet his eyes and levitated towards the hall. He didn't want to acknowledge he was helping, he supposed. It was in character for that tsundere blob.
"You ought to get out of here now if you wanna make it on time."
He stood and dusted himself off.
"Welp. Here goes everything."
#i only have access to mobile so the format for everything is so ugly but HIIII ITS MARRIAGE TIME#i wanna write a fic of the actual wedding or what it entails later.#thanks for letting me be cringe#to any non selfship blogs that might be seeing this i am so sorry#I'll show the rings i had made later!!!#wedding mentions
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( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )
Money’s something that makes the world go around. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag. You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.
That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash. You simply can’t let it go on.
pairing. jjk x f!reader.
genre + rating. idiots to lovers. fluff, angst, smut. the holy trifecta, babies! explicit, obviously.
tags / warnings. mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).
wc. 12.2k of nonsense. pure nonsense, i tells ya.
beta reader(s). @hobi-gif did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her. i love you both sm!!! ✨💜
author note. the long-awaited fic is here!! i really hope you enjoy it. if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something? i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot. anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you! stay safe and happy and healthy!
He’s a sucker. That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him. It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard.
His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove. Sometimes, she’s by herself; often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste. They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique. Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be. You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit.
“He has no idea.” It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts. “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”
How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder. How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair? It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie.
(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”. Her words, not yours.)
You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else. Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention. Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him. Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.
You’d never expected him to be like this.
Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face.
Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.
“He’s cute,” she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does. She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough. Zero tact, though. Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble. You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.
You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested. “Who?”
There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags. (God, what awful taste.) There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best. (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)
“Him.”
Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction. You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place. Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on. When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.
You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes. He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW. Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress is.
But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect. It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.
“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?” He upspeaks. It’s stupidly adorable.
Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first. A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect. “What’s the item and the name it’s under?” You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.
“Oh, it’s under mine. Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”
You’re floored. This is Jeon Jungkook? This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger? You’ve got to be kidding.
You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face. It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers. “I’ll grab it! The Box bag in cloud, right?”
Jungkook can only nod dumbly. He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends. He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance. It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears. There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.
It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.
“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend? I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.” Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off. “She said she was leaving on Friday.” Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made. “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”
It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall. You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.
You do feel bad. Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this. For hurting this stranger. (At least he knew?)
“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality. He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip. He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet.
If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off. Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in. (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.) As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth. “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend. Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”
Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid. Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours. Poor guy.
“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”
Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say. Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation. “Oh, maybe. I’m sorry.” The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t. That’s a thing, right? Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?
God, you’re an altruist.
“It’s fine.” When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not. You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word. (You won’t.)
“Here it is!” Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands. If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing. You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand. He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.
Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying. You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.
He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.
By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found. Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start. Well then.
“I guess we’ll have to call him,” you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands. It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card. The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.
Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently. You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.
Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder. It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum. (You either, but still.)
“So… what was that about?”
You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers. “What?”
“You know— that!” She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago. “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”
“Scared of the truth,” you correct.
You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response. There it is.
“What?” There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable.
“What?” It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery. You can read every emotion that runs through her expression: shock, displeasure, confusion.
She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth. (She really does remind you of your little sister.) “So, you told him?”
You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder. You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now. There was no way he didn’t.
“I pointed out a few conflicting facts. That’s all.” You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done. You’d want to know if you were him. Consider it an act of goodwill.
The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind. What’s done is done. Now he knows, or something close to it. The chips would simply fall where they were meant to.
You have to admit - you’re rooting for him.
Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift. She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway. Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding. It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship.
It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening.
She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter. “You have to call him.”
You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression. “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.” You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person. Sensible.
As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.
You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front. You suppose it’s your responsibility now. You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell.
The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker. “Hello?”
“Jungkook?”
There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?” Upspeaking again. How cute.
“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.” You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter. “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”
“O-oh, uh—“ It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable. “Thanks. I didn’t even notice. Um, I can come pick it up today?” There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back. “Is that okay?”
Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out. He truly was a sucker.
“That’s fine. We’re open until six tonight.”
“I’ll be there before dinner.” As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough. “Before six, I mean. Um, is around five-thirty okay?”
You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation. Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation. “Of course. We’ll see you then.”
He hangs up immediately.
The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last. It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest. You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.
As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon. You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.
Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.
How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday. Somehow, you like it more. The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair. It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person. (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)
At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him. Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.
“O-oh. It’s you.” The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified. “I m-mean, just—” He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again. “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.” Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.
“That’s right,” you say evenly, expression neutral. It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.
The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary. Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room. You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.
He’s so awkward.
(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)
“So, um, my wallet?” He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store. You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.
“Right here.”
Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again. He makes the same trip twice more. “Can I have it?” To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed. He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress. Good job, you think.
“Of course.” You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter. Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip. You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything. (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment. Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)
This time, he closes the distance with three long strides. It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended. Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact. “May I have it, please?”
You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand. You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable. Is he going to say thank you? Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?
Neither, it seems. “Why did you do it?” There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.
“Do it?” You know what he means. You ask anyway.
“Why did you tell me?” Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you. You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him; it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side. For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.
Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies. It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his. “I thought you deserved to know.”
“But why?”
“What do you mean?”
It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror. He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.
You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head. It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.
“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.
You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.
He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin. (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes. Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)
“Excuse me.” For once, he doesn’t sutter. The lisp doesn’t present itself, either. Was this the same Jungkook? You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.
There he is.
“Yes, Jungkook?” He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name. How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit? It makes no sense to you.
“Can we talk?” The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no. You’ll still mess with him a bit though.
“We are talking.”
He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly. It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.
“I mean like— talk talk.” The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else. His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.
“Sure, we can talk talk.”
“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”
You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way. “Are you asking me on a date?”
“W-what? No!” Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears. “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”
“I’m kidding. Let’s go.”
You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance. He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow. Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.
“So, what do you want to talk about?” It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down. His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving. You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie. It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall. “Jungkook?”
He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly. “Huh?”
“What did you want to talk about?”
“Um—” He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence. There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking. “—m-me?”
Brows furrow then amusement spills out. “You want to talk about… you?”
“That sounds bad.” The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.
“It’s fine. We’ll talk at dinner.”
He nods. You think it means thank you.
Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy. Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.
It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.
“What did you want to eat?” He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden. Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure. (You have a feeling it’s the former.)
“Whatever.” Everything here is incredible. You really don’t mind.
Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place. His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel. You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish.
When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections. Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.
“So?” You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.
He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute. “So?”
“What did you want to talk about?” If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often. As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper.
“Oh.” Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth. He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle. You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting. He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.
You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.
“I wanted to say thank you.”
It’s not the answer you’d expected. It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline. “What?”
He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot. You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip. Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.
“Thank you.” It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.
You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you. You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel. Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you. You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.
You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.
The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable. A little different, sure, but altogether nice. Like dining with an old friend.
You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake. You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water. “You’re welcome, I guess.”
Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not. His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does. (Seriously, how big are his eyes?) You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth. Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.
“What?” He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.
“What?” You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.
“Y-you’re staring at me.”
“You’re sitting in front of me.”
The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out. It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent. Oh?
“You don’t have to stare.” Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.
You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare. “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?” The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.
“That’s not my name.” The bite disappears past his teeth. You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.
“Sorry— Jungkook. Does my staring bother you?”
It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do. Juvenile in a way but enticing in another. You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.
“It’s rude,” he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.
“Maybe I’m just rude.”
He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down. (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.) “You’re not.”
You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation. He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations. He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.
It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea. Anything to busy his hands, you think.
“You don’t know that,” you finally return, after what seems like too long.
“I do.” He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact. “You care about people. You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone. You want to do what’s right. Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”
For once, you’re at a loss for words. Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.
How the tables have turned.
He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey. He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts. He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up. He decorates his apartment with the most random things: limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates. He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.
He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years. All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on. (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.) He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his). He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.
“I just… don’t like wasting my time,” he insists from behind his coffee cup.
“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”
Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable.
“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.” It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap. It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now. He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had. Youngin is good for him, though. You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.
“You say that a lot.”
“I mean it when I say it.”
He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips. When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone. “Girls are scary.”
You laugh. Cackle, really. You can’t help it. He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon. He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak. He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says. (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)
“Heights are scary. Death is scary. Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”
“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”
“Don’t interrupt.” He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest. From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture; from him, it’s patient. “Girls aren’t scary. Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.”
“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”
You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good. Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags. Like he’s living life in greyscale.
“Well, that’s what you have me for.”
The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze. Instead, he laughs. “I’m not hopeless.”
“Oh, but you are.” You���re adamant, insistent. He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft. An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.
You want to protect him, teach him to fly. Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.
You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes. He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it. He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.
“Fine,” he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long. It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused. It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.
“You won’t regret it.”
Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days. You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.
It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.
He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse. If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton. He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew). He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.
The girls would probably still love it. (It’s easy to love him.)
“What do you think?” It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso. It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm.
It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him. He wants great.
You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for. To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings. “Not bad…”
You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.
Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is.
How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence? (You wish you were joking.) It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.
“This one?” He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face. Medium-weight cashmere. Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist. It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.
“Look at you go,” you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels. “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”
Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law. You suppose it is.
“Thanks, ____,.” He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.
Your response is a shrug. “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.” You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates. You know there’ll be something good on the menu.
He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist. You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him. Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink. Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.
Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch. That was a viable plan, right?
You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other. “Hey! You’re leaving already?” It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone. It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.
There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes. For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes. “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.” A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.
Flowers, huh? Well, that’s certainly something new. Good for him, you think.
“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.” It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words. “She’s special.”
Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her. Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes). Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date. It’s a big deal.
“Yeah—“ Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky. “I guess she is.”
You smile fondly, like a proud mother. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
“I will,” he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.
You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place. It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look. “What?”
“Where are you going?”
“Leaving?”
“Why?”
Wasn’t that the million dollar question?
You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever). It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you. He’s going on a second date, after all. Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant. You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.
But it’s fine. Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine. The two of you are friends. You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come. Baby boy was growing up.
“Y’know.” You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment. It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.
“I know?” He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.
You wiggle your hand dismissively. “Second date and all that.”
Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on. It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots. “Just stick around. I’ll drive you home when I get back.”
It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him. “Fine. I’ll stay.”
He beams, caught halfway out the door. “Tell me to break a leg.”
“Go break her back,” you retort to the sound of his laughter.
You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake. It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.
It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook. This can only mean one thing.
from jeon jungkook: Hey.
from jeon jungkook: I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight.
from jeon jungkook: If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning.
from jeon jungkook: Please don’t be mad.
Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date. It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing. (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)
to jeon jungkook: i officially hate you
The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops. Of course. He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions. (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)
to jeon jungkook: it’s fine! have fun!
to jeon jungkook: turn her world upside down 😏
He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up. Good, you think. About time he finds someone nice. You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.
Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.
He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact. He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic.
“I want you to meet her,” he mumbles, like that makes it better. As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.
“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?” He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over. (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.) You repeat yourself.
“It’s not… weird.” But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is. Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately. “She wants to meet you too.”
(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)
You somehow highly doubt that. No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman. It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set. Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise. It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch. (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)
“What does she even know about me?”
“That we’re friends.” His vague response speaks volumes. The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery. When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway. “That I really value your opinion.”
You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.
“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!” Of course. It’s obvious. She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that. (He is.) “I’m not coming to dinner.”
“You’re already in the car,” he reasons.
You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve. Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.
“I just won’t go in.”
“____,.” When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him. Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal. Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.
“No.”
“____,,” he repeats, almost pleading. You can’t look at him. You won’t. The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.
You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause.
“Fine.” You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off. You’re not actually mad. Just worried. You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand. It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person. You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.
Jungkook knows that. Should, anyway. You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.
When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it. He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line. (Truthfully, it’s your fault. All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)
You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by. You’ve got a reputation to uphold.
“You’re paying for my dinner.”
“Of course.”
How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat? How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?
Answer: you’ve lost count.
Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.
“What’re you doing here?” At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness. Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.
Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really). “C-can I come in?”
You don’t budge. It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired. So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance. He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin. You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.
(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)
You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day. “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”
“Please let me in,” the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well. Everywhere but your eyes.
“Fine,” you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold. You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else. If you had to guess, it’s her perfume. It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses. You don’t know if you like it.
Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.
You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter. You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.
You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare. “So?”
“W-what?”
It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning. Something’s happened. Must have. There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.
“What’s going on?” You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him. He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.
(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)
“What do you mean?”
The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression. He’s stalling, you can tell. You hate when he does this. You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small. “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced. What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”
He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.
It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges. You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual. Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned. (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)
With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.
He nods once - a small up and down of his head.
“So.” You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves. You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest. He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs. Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.
“I couldn’t do it.” The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said. Couldn’t do… it?
You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.
When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look. It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.
“You didn’t ask her?” It explodes out, a question that demands an answer.
He’s staring past your head, unblinking. You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp. “I c-couldn’t. It was just…” The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.
“Just what?”
“Just—” There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot. He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise. He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket. “It didn’t feel right.”
What did that even mean? Feel right?
Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete. It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down. Didn’t he understand that? Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?
You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.
“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’” You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window. “You like her, don’t you?”
You expect him to nod immediately. He doesn’t.
“Jungkook.”
“Yeah?”
“You like her, right?”
“I think so.”
You want to tear your own hair out. Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there. “So, you like her.” It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way; you don’t mean it in any way but supportive. You just want him to be happy. “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”
“She’s not you.”
He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer. But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise. Hope, maybe? Fear?
“What?” You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.
The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight. He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer. (It won’t.)
“Don’t say things like that.”
It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest. His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair. He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer. Bambi, through and through.
“You asked why I didn’t do it,” he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.
“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.” It’s cruel. “You’re making a bad choice. You’re into this girl. Don’t be dumb.”
His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements. “I’m not dumb.” There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask. It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.
He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.
When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.
“Okay. Spill.”
Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question. You can’t blame her. You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.
All because of a doe-eyed idiot.
“What?” It’s less snark, more sigh. You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.
“What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter. “You’ve been in a bad mood all week. I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.” She’s right, of course. You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what. “Did something happen?”
You grit your teeth. An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.
“____,” she tries again, concerned.
“Nothing happened.”
“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!” She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly. “You look like hell—”
“Thanks.”
“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough. So just tell me?”
You hate that she’s right. It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload. (Maybe it’d be helpful. Probably. But you’ve never found comfort in other people. At least, not like this.)
“Yejin.” Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on. “It’s fine. Really.” You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile. “I just need to get some sleep.” And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.
Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.
The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action. It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.
(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)
“You’re here.” You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater. He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.
“Y-you asked,” he mutters, refusing to meet your stare. At least, you think he’s refusing. It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes. It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away. It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.
“Will you come in?” You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated. He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding. “I won’t bite.”
You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.
“So.” This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him. He hums a noise but offers nothing further.
This is how it’ll be then. Fine. If he wants to be this way.
“You like me.”
He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go. He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth. “I— I don’t— I didn’t say that.”
If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.
“Tell me why.”
The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now. Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.
“W-what?”
“Tell me.” You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round. “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters. What have I got that she doesn’t?”
“You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”
The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. You think he might say no, outright refuse. You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.
“You’re funny. You’re honest. You speak your mind.” You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people. He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him. “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t. You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”
For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen. As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.
“I don’t—”
“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.” He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again. “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”
There’s something thick in your throat.
“You make me want to try.” He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it. “Y-you make things not so scary.”
It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you. He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.
“You know what I need, even before I know myself. You make me laugh.” He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.” You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit. Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.
You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs. Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.
When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words. They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism. “I can’t.”
As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention. “Can’t or won’t?”
“I—”
“I’m not asking for the world here. Just a chance.” He’s got a peculiar look on his face. “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”
“Excuse me?”
All of a sudden, he’s close. Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be. There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down. The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.
“You kind of ruined my life. I think this makes us fair.”
You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense. You’d ruined his life? (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.) You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.
Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.
“I’m kidding.”
It feels like whiplash. You’ve created a monster.
“But you do owe me, I think. So why not?”
You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.
Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing. He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams.
He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out. He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed. He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money. He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.
You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him). If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either. Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.
(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge. He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)
“Open it,” he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.
You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you. You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom. “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”
Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff. It’s adorable.
“Just open it.”
You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends. You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head. You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.
Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.
You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups. Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.
Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together. Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects. Surely there’s more to this. Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?
“Do you like it?” You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.
“What is it?”
“It’s a playsuit.”
“A playsuit?” You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in. Would it even fit? Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.
He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns. “Will you wear it?”
It fits you better than you’d expected. Or at least, you think it does. If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim.
The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal. He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.
“S-so wet,” he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds. The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs. He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick. “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.
“Use your words, gorgeous.” As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.
The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck. He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.
“What did I say?”
Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob. Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh. He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.
When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be. The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.
“You like this, don’t you?” His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy. “You like what I’m doing?”
“Y-yes,” you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts. The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin. Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.
“Good girl.” Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips. You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall. Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips. “Such a good girl for me. My perfect girl.”
Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.
“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she? Wants me to fill her up?”
He’s teasing you, the bastard. Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate. It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest. Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.
“Say it. Say you want me.”
You do, without hesitation, without fear. You know he’ll catch you. “I want you.”
He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same. Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.
Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm. The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.
“B-be mine,” he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer. Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.
“I am. I am. I am,” you chant, tears welling along your lash line. They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.
They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you. It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you.
It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much. Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.
You’re his and he’s always been yours.
tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings @veronawrites @notmontae97 @papillonsgf i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e
#goldenclosetnet#magicshopnet#ficswithluv#thebtswritersclub#networkbangtan#heartsforbts#bts#bts au#bts imagine#bts fic#bts oneshot#bts angst#bts smut#bts jungkook#jeon jeongguk#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook au#jungkook imagine#jungkook fic#jungkook oneshot#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#jungkook x oc#jungkook x reader#work.zip#oneshot.zip#devil.doc#jungkook.doc
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Heart of Steel - Part I
DBH Connor x Male Reader
Word Count: 2.5K+
Content warning: Minor injury detail, PTSD, language
Original game dialogue I got from this video:
https://youtu.be/32Np9LKI1Vg
We were attacked in the night.
After returning from a mission back to an outpost several miles from the red zone, we removed our gear save for a few pouches on our belts we could bother with later. Our team leader set up a fire while the SQ800s, CyberLife commissioned combat androids, began loading up the trucks with extra artillery and resources. A job that could have waited until morning, but Alpha always gave the androids something to do. He said that they creeped him out when they would just stand there in a dormant state, waiting for their next mission to be given to them.
"You know what I'm going to do when I get home?"
"Here we go again."
"I'm going to get me a WR400," Foxtrot; not everyone's favourite but he certainly kept us entertained when there was nothing to do.
"Uh-huh and with what money are you going to be using to pay for this WR400? A military salary definitely ain't gonna cut it." Echo always called out Foxtrot's bullshit, he was the only one that had the patience to deal with him.
"Fine, my birthday is comin' up, if you put towards two-thirds of what it costs we can share. How does that sound?"
"I am not sharing anything with you, I don't know what diseases you carry." Their constant back forth sent chuckles through the group.
"Alright, that's enough you two. It's getting late and past everyone's bedtime, I want you all awake by O-five-hundred at the latest," Alpha would often stop them before Foxtrot would take it too far, but he could never hide the twitching smile on his face.
"Yes sir," Foxtrot mock saluted as he stood from his seat around the campfire. "Hey Echo, that offer is still-"
One moment Foxtrot had a wide grin on his face, the next there was a hole in his head between his eyes, the sound of gunshot ringing in everyone's ears.
"SHOTS FIRED! GET TO COVER NOW!"
"FOXTROT IS DOWN! I REPEAT, FOXTROT IS DOWN!"
It was dark, we couldn't see where they were firing from. The android was the only one still standing, firing off in random directions as they were gunned down. The next was Delta, shot in the left shoulder, then the throat. My gun was back in my tent and there was no chance of me getting it. Stupid.
"MEDIC! GET TO DELTA! NOW!"
"GRENADE!"
I heard the thump by my feet before I saw it. You would think it would be terrifying, to know you're staring death in the face, but for a second it was peaceful. My body was cold and I already felt like a corpse, the Rigour Mortis freezing me in place, just softly gazing at what would kill me.
Something grabbed me before the grenade exploded, saving my life but destroying the android.
The bedsheets were crumpled and soaked in sweat again when my eyes shot open. It was hard to breathe, the panic was still running through me and closing up my throat at the memory.
In; one, two, three, four. Hold; one, two, three, four. Out; one, two, three, four. Hold; one, two, three, four.
It took a few minutes for me to remember where I was. That I was home and that I was safe. Out of nervous habit, I gripped my dog tags, they were wet from the sweat that had soaked through my shirt in the night.
"Shit." It was four in the morning, there was no chance of getting any more sleep and the station wouldn't be open for another two more hours at the least. Saying that; Fowler wanted to speak to me first thing, which never meant anything good for anyone.
It was aching again at the joint. The biomechanical component always felt itchy where it joined at the elbow. Anytime I would have that dream I would scratch at it in my sleep, it was like my subconscious knew it didn't belong. It knew my rotting left arm was still in the desert somewhere being picked apart by vultures.
It's almost ironic; to be saved by an android and then to have part of one attached to me. I hated it.
*****
"Morning Cyborg, you look like shit." Gavin was forever pleasant to talk to.
"Fuck off, Reed." He constantly hovered around the coffee machine, hogging it like it was his newborn baby. "Is Fowler in yet?"
"Not yet, you in trouble?" He took his time making his coffee, exceeding in being the department's resident asshat. "Did he catch you looking at porn on your work terminal again?"
"I'm pretty sure that's only ever happened to you." Not wanting to be reminded of his previous escapades I got no response. Gavin let out a small huff before moving to the side with his fresh cup of coffee, freeing up the machine.
"Officer (L/N)." Oh for fuck's sake.
"Sir?" Captain Fowler stood outside his office, his coat half soaked from the rain.
"My office, I need to speak to you." He didn't give a second glance to me before turning and letting the glass door shut behind him.
"Ha, good luck cyborg." Shooting Gavin the middle finger, I followed Captian Fowler into his office.
"What was it you wished to talk about, sir?" Feet shoulder-width apart, back straight and hands behind my back; habits from the army were destined to die hard. Often I would find myself moving my hand up to salute before leaving the presence of a superior, something else for Gavin to make fun of.
"You're aware of the deviant cases I've assigned to Lieutenant Anderson, correct?" Fowler sat at his desk, wet coat now hung on its rack, but there was slight dampness to his suit blazer where his coat had been left open.
"Yes sir. I believe he's being accompanied by a prototype RK800 from Cyberlife."
"That's correct. I'm sure you're aware that these deviancy cases are on the more..."
"Dangerous?"
"...Unpredictable side. Now, I can't exactly issue a gun to a prototype android if it's going to be in the field and, while I value Hank as a police officer, his record is on the rougher side."
"Captain Fowler, with all due respect, I don't believe-"
"Office (L/N), with all due respect, you don't have an opinion in this matter. I want you to accompany Lieutenant Anderson in these assignments just in case a deviant becomes too much for him or this android to handle. You've certainly got the skillset for it and you're not unfamiliar with working alongside androids, unlike quite a few officers in this department."
"I understand that, but-"
"Whatever you're gonna say I don't want to hear it." Captain Fowler didn't give me a chance to argue as he stood and walked to his office door, the annoyed look on his face worsening. "Hank, in my office!"
I let out a sigh before Captain Fowler turned back to his desk. Through the office wall made of glass Hank reluctantly made his way towards us grumbling something under his breath at the request, the RK800 model obediently following behind him like a little, lost puppy. Hank sat in the chair opposite Fowler while the android stood next to me, giving a small smile as a greeting.
Captain Fowler was the first to talk, "I've got ten new cases involving androids on my desk every day. We've always had isolated incidents, old ladies losing their android maids and that kind of crap... But now, we're getting reports of assaults and even homicides, like that guy last night. This isn't just cyberlife's problem anymore, it's now a criminal investigation and we've gotta deal with it before the shit hits the fan. I want you to investigate these cases, alongside officer (L/N) and see if there's any link."
"Why me? And why do I need a god damned partner? A stupid android is already too much. Why do I gotta be the one to deal with this shit?" Props to Hank for trying, but arguing with Fowler was like talking to a brick wall. "I am the least qualified cop in the country to handle this case! I know jack shit about androids, Jeffery. I can barely change the settings on my own phone."
"Everybody's overloaded. I think you're perfectly qualified for this type of investigation," They were already starting to blow up at each other.
"Bullshit! The truth is nobody wants to investigate these fuckin' androids and you left me holdin' the bag!"
"CyberLife sent over this android to help with this investigation and I've given you (L/N) as well. You've got a state of the art prototype and a leading police officer to act as your partners."
"No fuckin' way! I don't need partners, and certainly not this plastic prick and some action hero fucker."
"Nice working with you too, Lieutenant Anderson," I said under my breath, not intending for the others to hear. Connor turned his head slightly in my direction, I could see his LED blink yellow for a moment before going back to its bright blue.
"Hank, you are seriously starting to piss me off! You are a police lieutenant, you are supposed to do what I say and shut your goddamn mouth!"
"You know what my goddamn mouth has to say to you, huh?"
"I'll pretend like I didn't hear that, so I don't have to add any more pages to your disciplinary folder 'cause it already looks like a fuckin' novel! This conversation is over."
"Jeffrey, Jesus Christ! Why are you doin' this to me? You know how much I hate these fuckin' things. Why are you doin' this to me?" Most of the department knew why he had such a distaste towards androids, no one could necessarily blame him. Ever since losing his son Hank had become completely different as both a person and an officer. Admittedly, Fowler was harsh on him, but if he wasn't then Hank would drift.
"I've had just enough of your bitching. Either you do your job or you hand in your badge. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." Hank left in a strop, letting out his frustration on Fowler's office door.
"Well then..." Connor was quick to break the tense silence. His voice caught me off guard, it was smoother, more human than any android's I had heard before. The SQ800's voices had always been more robotic than other models so it had been a shock when the androids back home had sounded so normal, it felt like that all over again. It was jarring. "I won't keep you any longer. Have a nice day captain."
Connor left and I followed behind, giving a small nod of dismissal to Fowler despite him still looking at his terminal screen.
The android went straight to Hank either oblivious or ignoring the lieutenant's current bad mood, granted there was never a time the bastard was in a good mood. Heaven itself could rain down on Detroit and he'd huff at it like a hair in his food.
"I got the impression my presence causes you some inconvenience, Lieutenant. I'd like you to know I'm very sorry about that. In any case, I'd like you to know I'm very to be working with you." Ever the enthusiast.
"I'd give in now. You're talking to a toddler in a fifty-year old's body and the toddler is having a hissy fit." I half sat and half leant against Hank's desk, using my arms to support my weight.
"Apologies, I don't believe I've introduced myself. My name is Connor, I am the android sent by CyberLife." He turned to me, a gentle and manufactured smile on his face. "It's a pleasure to be working with you too, officer (L/N). I'm sure we'll make a great team."
"Er... (Y/N) is just fine."
"Is there a desk anywhere I could use?"
"No one's using that one." Hank points to the desk opposite him, while still sulking like a child.
"Gasp, it speaks," I said in a sarcastic tone while turning to Hank.
"Fuck off. I've already got an android on my ass, I don't need you on it too."
I grabbed a terminal pad before perching myself back at the edge of Hank's desk while Connor got comfortable at the empty one. The light at the side of his head flashing yellow for a moment like he was hesitant to speak."You have a dog, right?"
"How do you know that?"
"The dog hairs on your chair. I like dogs. What's your dog's name?"
"What's it to you?" Hank shifted in his seat, "...Sumo... I call him Sumo."
"Under all those shitty shirts and questionable stains there's a warm, beating heart," I say more to myself than the other two, skimming over the recent case files sent in by Fowler.
"Officer (L/N)... (Y/N), knowing that we'd be working together I read your academy and field records. You have quite an interesting background."
"Oh yeah, then you understand that I may be a little driven to get these cases over with. I can't say I'm a fan of you terminators."
"I understand you have a... warped view of androids due to what you've experienced, but I hope you understand that I am your partner and not your enemy."
"Connor, you're not my partner, you're cyberlife's latest gizmo for us kick around." I sigh, turning to sit at my desk adjacent to hanks, taking the terminal pad with me. "Just look through the deviant case files. Terminals on your desk, knock yourself out."
They're nothing but machines. They are not your friends.
"Two-hundred and forty-three files, the first date back nine months. It all started in Detroit... And quickly spread across the country." Connor had only connected the terminal moments before.
"Don't work your CPU too hard," I mutter under my breath, catching a quick huff of amusement from Hank.
"An AX400 is reported to have murdered a man last night. That could be a good starting point for our investigation." Hank was doing his best to pretend Connor didn't exist, but the android was persistent. Connor stood from his chair and made his way into Hank's personal space.
"Uh, Jesus..." Hank turned his chair away.
"I understand you're facing personal issues, Lieutenant, but you need to move past them and-" For an android, Connor has some balls on him.
"Hey! Don't talk to me like you know me. I'm not your friend and I don't need your advice, okay?" Hank's mood had soured like milk, it wouldn't be long until Fowler was adding another page to Hank's disciplinary folder.
"I've been assigned this mission Lieutenant, I didn't come here to wait until you feel like working."
"Connor, you're just gonna-" I had wasted my breath, Hank had already stood and was grabbing onto Connor by the collar of his Cyberlife jacket and slamming against the screen next to his desk. "Hank!"
"Listen asshole. If it were up to me, I'd rather throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So, stop pissing me off... or things are gonna get nasty."
"Hank," I placed a hand on his shoulder to try and lightly pull him away from Connor but only earned a nasty side-eye. "Leave off him, you don't get paid enough to replace him."
"Lieutenant... Officer (L/N), uh... sorry to disturb you," Looks like the tin can was saved before Hank could knock the light out of him, "I have some information on the AX400 that killed that guy last night. It's been sighted in the Ravendale district."
"I'm on it." Hank didn't glance back when he dropped Connor's collar. The puppy dog look on his face almost made me feel bad for him... almost.
"Come on, WALL-E. Don't want to keep the old man waiting."
#detroit become human#dbh#dbh connor#dbh rk800#dbh fanfic#dbh x reader#dbh x male reader#connor x male reader#connor rk800#male reader#m! reader#connor x m!reader
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love.
a/n: happy valentines day! have this spicy content for now but if you’re looking for high-cocky bastard-suna, this ain’t it. sorry.
word count: 2.3k
genre: smut, nsfw, fluff
warnings: soft dom, orgasm denial
pairing: pro!suna x f!reader
summary: suna got you a gift for your anniversary. wonder why he likes it so much..
“hm? a bracelet?” you take out the shiny jewelry out from the crimson box, inspecting it in your hands. there’s a letter ‘R’ that gleams with its rhinestones and a bell that chimes as you jiggle it.
“close,” your boyfriend smiles when he catches the fascinated look on your face. “it’s an anklet.”
suna takes the ornament from you and drops down to his knees to fasten it around your ankle. he takes a good look at it, pondering briefly over how he made a good choice to get it for you as an anniversary gift.
you look over your ankle intriguingly, shaking it slightly to hear the bell ring in response.
“it’s so pretty!” you beam excitedly and kiss him in thanks as he raises back up on his feet. “then you have to put on the perfume i gave you too.”
suna raises an eyebrow, “perfume?”
“shit–” your hand flies over to cover your mouth instantly by reflex and you shake your head. “i didn’t say that.”
your boyfriend laughs as he takes the nicely wrapped present and shakes it in a feigned attempt to figure the not-so-mysterious content, “gee, i wonder what it could be.”
“oh, i don’t know. guess you have to find out.” you reply in the same sardonic tone, suppressing giggles as you watch him rip off the paper unceremoniously.
suna blinks once, twice at the box and glances at you before looking back at the box that is engraved with a name that he’s aware to be high end. he’s not very materialistic but he knows for sure that it costs more than you can afford for yourself and the thought of you forking out so much money on it makes his heart swell.
“well?” you grin sheepishly as you wait for him to say something.
“babe, this is..” he sighs, brushing a hand through his brown locks. “how did you even–”
“don’t mind that! put it on!” you chide.
suna shakes his head and chuckles as he opens the packaging to pull out the expensive bottle. he takes off the lid and takes a whiff of the manly scent, yet has no idea what the contents are. he guess he should wear it often if you like the scent so much, especially since you’re the one who chose it for him. he sprays the cologne on his wrist and rubs it with the other before applying it on the back of his ears.
you don’t remember how many bottles it took to find the one that you absolutely would like on him but you know you’ve made the right choice when the aroma has proven to suit his character very well; sexy and alluring.
“you smell so fucking good.” you sigh in content as the scent begins to fill your senses.
“is this your way of saying that i always stink?” he forces an offended frown but the slight upturn at the corner of his lips tells you it's only superficial.
“yeah, you reek. especially after your practice.” you tease before suna envelops you into a warm hug.
“but i won’t wear it to practice.” he mutters as he caresses your hair gently. “it’s a waste if the guys are the only ones who are going to smell it.”
“that’s fine. you can always wear it around me.”
suna pulls away to look at you, blankly staring at you with his dark and narrow eyes. “and, you shouldn’t be giving me expensive stuff. i won’t even mind if you didn’t get me anything. you’re more than enough for me.”
“but–”
“no buts.” he places a small kiss on your lips. “still, thank you for this.”
you smile and counter back with a kiss, “happy anniversary, rin. i love you.”
“i love you, too.” he taps your nose with his finger before picking you up off your feet and cradling you in his arms, making you squeal in surprise. “now that we’re done with that, time to put that to the test.”
“put what to the test?” you look up at him with curiosity as he carries you towards your shared room, leaving the empty plates of your homemade dinner behind.
“why do you think i got you something with a bell on it?” he grins slyly before throwing you on the bed and causing the bell around your ankle to chime from the result of the impact.
warmth creeps up to your cheeks as you put one and one together, “you wouldn’t..”
“oh, yes i will.” suna climbs on top of you, pale yellow irises swirling like flames as he gazes deeply into your eyes before leaning down to slip his tongue past the barrier of your lips in an amorous kiss. your hands find their way to his nape, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.
suna swallows down your moans as he hastily works on taking off all his lower garments and grinds his erection against your sex, soothing the throb that he has been keeping inside his pants the moment he put on the ornament around your ankle since his mind just kept on wandering at the thought of how he has been wanting to put it on to good use.
he breaks the kiss to plant wet, soft kisses down your throat, suckling and nibbling on the sensitive skin that he knows will have you whining underneath him while his large, calloused hands massages your mounds through the flimsy dress.
“you’re so pretty,” he whispers against the crook of your neck as tugs down the straps off your shoulders and lets it fall on your arms. “i love you so much.”
with a little maneuvering of your arms, you manage to slip out from the band and allow suna to pull down the dress completely. your nipples harden from the cold air yet they find heat once he wraps his lips around one, tongue dancing and circling around the erected tit while he tweaks the other between his thumb and index finger that sends jolt of sensations down to your bundle of nerves.
your lips part in soft, heavy pants while your fingers seek refuge in his dark hair by tugging it lightly before he pulls away with an audible pop to suck on the other. his hand trails down on your inner thigh, drawing circles with his fingertips on the erogenous zone and purposely avoiding from tracing closer to your heated core.
“rin.” you whine while the bell resounds from underneath as you part your legs wider and buck your hips reflexively.
“hmm?” narrow, hooded eyes look up at you mischievously from below. suna unlatches his mouth, watching as the nipple perks up harder and becomes more swollen from his ministrations. “you’re ready for me, aren’t you?”
you feel your cheeks warm up, “i don’t know, why don’t you get down and see for yourself?”
“whatever you say, princess.” he chuckles and shifts downwards until his head is settled in the space between your thighs.
“shit, you’re really a mess down here.” he muses, thumb grazing against the dark patch that has formed on the thin fabric. “all from me just sucking your tits?”
suna tugs the sodden garment down, tongue darting out to sweep his bottom lip as his eyes dissolve into red of passion and lust. it’s more intense than you imagined, but an impassioned loop twists in your stomach as you study his next, calculated step.
shivers of pleasure rushes throughout your body the moment you feel his warm tongue flattening against your wet slits. with skills and practiced strokes, his tongue laps off your slick greedily before teasing and sucking on the throbbing clit. your toes curl and the bell rings as you attempt to close your legs together, but suna spreads them apart from crushing his head.
his lustful gaze fixes up at you, observing every twitch of pleasure and the way your lips part in soft, needy whimpers. you gasp at the abrupt intrusion of his long and slender fingers, yet you gladly welcome him as the muscles clench to keep him within.
“does it feel good?” he whispers, kissing the soft skin of your fleshy thigh when he notices your legs tremble.
“s-so good, rin.” you mewl, nails digging into the sheets while the fabric crumples in your fists as you find purchase. his fingers curl and drag against the spongy walls, making you keen in excitement that your hips begin to pump desperately to match his rhythm.
“you’re so needy.” a sense of pride soars in his chest, conscious of how much your pleasure lies in him and only him. he continues rubbing and digging, somewhat in search of something; certainly the spot that he’s aware that’ll make you beg for him hopelessly. and when he finds it, he doesn’t miss the way you tense up and giving him the drive to stroke the same spot mercilessly.
“shit– right there!” you look like you’d almost cry. the way your hips are jerking uncontrollably is telling him that you’re going to break soon and before that happens, suna draws away his fingers and you immediately throw a scowl his way.
“what?” his voice is taunting and he wears a smirk of a victor which makes you all the more frustrated.
you huff, “so mean. on our anniversary night, too.”
suna lifts himself off you to get out of his shirt. no matter how much you’ve seen him bare and naked, your eyes always marvel over his toned chest and chiseled abs; those he gained along by being a professional athlete since a couple of years ago. you lick your lips to return moisture on dry skin as you watch him pump his throbbing cock in front of you while he puts on an expression of bold seduction.
“you don’t have to look so scared. you wanted to cum so bad, didn’t you?” he sneers, obviously confident over how thick his cock is and how it can stretch your tiny little hole so good.
you roll your eyes playfully, retorting in a snarky tone, “oh, i’m so scared. please don’t put that thing inside me!”
his lips curl into an amusing smile, finding it endearing how you played along with his pretense. “don’t worry, i’ll treat my princess very gently.”
suna leans down to lick a fat strip of your essence and mixes with his saliva before propping up on his knees and dragging your body closer to him by the waist. he carefully throws the leg adorned with his gift on his shoulder and kisses on the side of your knee before fixing his dark gaze downwards, where he slowly guides and observes the way his cockhead slowly disappears into your dripping entrance.
a low grunt rumbles in his chest as the walls suck him in deeper, clamping around him like a vice and refusing to let go as he continues to bury his cock deeper inside your pussy. your eyes flutter close, lips part slightly as you revel the way he stretches you while the veins and ridges brush against your muscles deliciously.
“so good for me, princess.” he praises with a sharp breath, having you completely filled to the brim before he finally snaps his hips and making your body jolt in return. his pace is unforgiving and with the angle he has set you in, his tip keeps on pounding against your cervix.
the slapping of your skins fills the cold air, mingling with the sounds of your moans and the erratic chimes from your bell that he was so eager about. an unknowing grin etches on your lover’s lips as every jingle that fills his ear fuels up his ego and he finds himself to pound into you faster while the sounds behind him follow in accordance.
“hah– rin– so deep!” your orgasm is quick to build up from the prior interruption, the muscles in your stomach begins to tighten and your legs quiver.
“you hear that, baby? the bell telling you how hard i’m fucking you right now.“ he rams his cock senselessly to make the bell jingle wilder in a way to prove his point.
“rin– i–”
“baby wanna cum?” he coos, smirking down at you as the image of your writhing body ingrains in his mind.
you nod your head affirmatively, face contorting in one that expresses bliss as your mind swirls with excessive gratification. yet your eyes snap open as soon as you feel a sharp sting on your thigh.
he releases the pliant skin from between his teeth, “use your words, princess.”
“please–” you let out a broken cry. “wanna cum–” your toes curl with anticipation as you will yourself from coming undone before you are granted to do so.
“that’s– fuck– better.” he grunts, thrusts turning sporadic as you begin to squeeze and clamp down on him. “then cum, baby. you deserve it.”
suna brings up his thumb to your aching bud, generously pressing tight circles in order to push you over the edge and a wave of pleasure washes throughout your body as you moan his name in a chant. your pussy gushes around his cock, which makes it all more stimulating for the male and he pounces harder through your high in pursuit of his own orgasm while the noisy rings from the bell soon becomes white noise.
“that’s it– you feel so fucking good.” he feels his balls tightening before his cock twitches and he bites roughly on your leg as he shoots warm load inside your tight cunt. you squeal from the pain, wiggling your leg away and he completely lets go.
he chuckles lightly and gently rubs the dents on your skin, “sorry.”
once he’s sure he has emptied, he pulls out his softening cock and finds his place next to your warm body. you turn to face your lover and he gladly welcomes you into his warm embrace.
“i love you.” he whispers, pushing aside the damp and matted hair from your face to place a soft kiss on your forehead.
you hum in content, vision darkening as he continues to play with your hair soothingly while the sound of his heartbeat sings you a lullaby. “i love you, too.”
duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.
#suna#suna rintaro#rintaro suna#suna rintarou#rintarou suna#haikyuu suna#suna smut#suna fluff#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu smut#haikyuu fanfic#suna fanfic#r; writes
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Career oriented
Escort! Bakugou x Reader
Your entire life you've been focused solely on your career, you've sacrificed a lot of things, people and time to get where you are and it’s paid off, now you're a millionaire who is also a virgin and never had a boyfriend in their life. Your friend recommends you a male escort service. At first you hire him to go on dates and do other things couples do but the relationship develops far beyond what you could've imagined, now you're laying under him begging him to be your first.
cw: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, reader is a capitalist lmao, I mean reader is a virgin but its not rlly virginity loss bc its not focused around that but reader does lose her virginity, unedited (but what's new)
a/n: I mean we always hear abt sugar daddies, I need rich reader pls also- monoma is a rich bitch y'all can't fight me on this he got that rich bitch mentality.
The words ‘hard worker’ were understatements when it came to describing you. Pretty much all of your life was spent working, growing your small business with your own two hands. Now money was never an issue. A huge house with several bathrooms, fancy bags and cars, all the things you've ever wanted were now in your possession except maybe one thing. Seeing happy couples holding hands as they walked around in the park, kissing and calling each other pet names, seeing them stirred a feeling of longing inside of you.
While it’s true that now you'd never want for anything else in your life, you still wanted something money couldn't buy you, love.
A small tap to your shoulder brought you out of your daze.
“Your eggs are going to get cold..” Todoroki mentioned and you gave him a small smile before prodding your fork in the perfectly scrambled egg.
“Hey, don't tell me you're thinking about that shareholders meeting this week” Monoma groans and you shake your head.
“Then what is it?” Momo wondered as she wiped her mouth with her napkin.
“It’s just- you guys all have someone you know romantically” you say as you rest your fork on the plate, deciding that you weren't really in the mood to eat anymore.
Monoma scoffs, “Yeah barely...I almost broke up with shinso after that last stunt he pulled in the club”
Momo giggles, “You're still with him?”
His face dusts pink in embarrassment as he looks away, “A-anyway, why don't you try getting an escort” Monoma recommends and it was your turn for your face to warm.
“An e-escort?! You do realize who we are right? If someone in here were to hear us talk about such a thing..” Momo whisper-yells and Todoroki’s eyebrow quirks up
“We all know I met Izuku through a sugar daddy website though-”
You clear your throat, “I’m not necessarily looking for you know..sex...just maybe someone to spend time with Monoma” You clarify and he's rummaging through his pockets to find his phone, he fiddles with it before showing you what the site looks like.
“Duh, escorts just get paid for their time not necessarily sex, I’ll send you the link to the website” He tells you and you sigh thoughtfully, if that was really the case then it wouldn't be so wrong to hire some cute eye candy right?
Momo waves over the waiter, “We’ll have the check please”
“Certainly ma'am”
+
You sat at your office’s desk with the website pulled up. You'd triple checked to make sure your door was locked, you still had a reputation to uphold as the CEO of your company, you'd be traumatized if one of your employees saw you hiring an escort.
You scrolled through the many many options of guys. Each profile consisted of a headshot of the escort along with a bio that consisted of maybe a paragraph and . You really couldn't find anyone that suited your tastes personally, until your mouse hovered over a blonde guy.
His bio was notably shorter than everyone else’s and in his picture he looked mean, eyebrows furrowed and red eyes staring menacingly at you and yet you found yourself clicking the ‘hire!’ button next to his name. Even though he looked like his favorite hobby was stealing candy from a baby, but his looks (as shallow as that may seem) were really speaking to you and the you between your legs if you were honest.
Bakugou Katsuki huh..well he seemed worth a try.
+
You had been through countless scenarios were you were rightfully terrified.
Being on a date had to be the scariest out of all of them.
Bakugou was sitting in front of you, he stirred his straw around in his coffee and looked at you while you struggled to contain the rabid beating of your heart in your chest.
“S-So..What- um..-”
“Just relax” He interrupts, his voice sounded so nice, deep and smooth like a rich dark chocolate. It only manages to make you more nervous.
“I’m sorry- I haven't actually done this before” you confess with a nervous chuckle, hands gripping your tea cup brutally.
He gives you this half smile and you're unsure of wether he's actually human or a demi-god at this point. “I can tell, but don't worry there's no reason to be”
You feel slightly comforted by his words and feel yourself let loose a little, “Okay, Bakugou, what do you like to do?” you ask.
“I like going to the gym” he shrugs, “I’m not really Interesting, I’m more curious about you” he says, he places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand and leans in to you. His skin is so clear- not a blemish in sight and his eyes are practically burning a hole into your soul.
“M-me? I do nothing too important..I like to sew” you respond, taking a sip of your jasmine tea. You didn't necessarily want to tell him about who you were or what you did just yet, money and status only complicate things. For now, you just wanted to be a normal young woman going out on a date.
“Come on, don't be shy, I know there's more to you than sewing” He says, removing the straw from his coffee and placing it on a neighboring napkin.
You bite into your bottom lip, “Well, I honestly don't do much besides work, it’s taken up so much time in my life I can't say I do much else” you admit and Bakugou hums thoughtfully. He doesn't respond for a bit, the sounds of the coffee shop fill the silence instead.
“Okay, I have an idea”
You cock your head to the side curiously.
“Let’s ditch the formalities and go have some real fun, I think its about time you lived your life” he proposes and your mouth hands open. Was he serious? He looked it. You couldn't help the giddy feeling that bubbled up within you, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time, excitement. It made you feel young again.
“What do you say?”
“Alright!”
+
The two of you spent all day together, visiting various hidden places around the city, you did shopping and even some sightseeing. For the first time in a while you felt alive, like you were actually a person and not just a unfeeling robot who simply lived to work.
Your last stop was a park. With a large lake in the center Bakugou suggested you guys feed the birds before heading home. With a handful of birdseed you gently sprinkled some into the water and watched the geese gobble it up.
“When I was five, I had a huge fear of geese..” Bakugou admits and you're chuckling.
“No way, really?” you turned to face him and when you do he’s already looking at you, smiling fondly, eyes filled with an emotion that you really couldn't seem to put your finger on.
“What? Do I have something on my face that you're not telling me about?” You pout and he shakes his head before turning his attention back to the birds as he sprinkles more of the food into the lake.
“No, just realized somethin’”
The sun’s beginning to set now, the sky is illuminated by hues of orange and pink. You nudge him with your arm, “Realized what?”
He turns back to face you, there's an adoring look on his face.
“You look pretty when you're having fun”
A look of surprise crosses your features before your ears burn in embarrassment at the sudden compliment, the butterflies in your stomach flutter around more and more the longer you two stare at each other.
“Thanks” You mumble before looking down at your palm full of birdseed.
+
Dates with Bakugou become more and more frequent after that. The two of you often meeting up more than you meet up with your regular friends. Bakugou doesn't even charge you anymore, even though you've tried to tell him it was fine he still insisted otherwise. The two of you even exchanged numbers and spoke quite often on the phone. Texts like,
‘this song reminded me of you’ and ‘don't work too hard, idiot’ were often exchanged.
After maybe a month of this happening you realized that the warm feeling you got in your chest whenever Bakugou brushed your hair into place or stopped to tie your shoe for you or even when he texted you good morning wasn't because you appreciated him being a good friend, you liked him. It took a month to finally decipher your feelings for him but once you did..what the heck were you supposed to do now?
Never once in your life had you confessed to someone let alone dated them, what would happen to your friendship with Bakugou if things didn't work out? You didn't want to stop being friends with him, you loved being with him, he was the reason you finally started taking breaks and learned to relax.
You had a ton of questions to answer for yourself but you couldn't do it right now, you had a date with Bakugou. He told you to dress up and you weren't sure where you were going but you trusted him to take you somewhere you'd enjoy. Around 8pm like promised, he was there to pick you up. His car was fairly nice, you assumed his high pay rates were being used for something but now you know what. He was wearing a black three piece suit, it was crisp and you could clearly tell it was expensive, his hair was slicked back and he had a single diamond stud in his left ear. He looked damn good. It was making you a little nervous about how fancy this place actually was.
The drive to dinner was unusually quiet. Bakugou typically did most of the conversations with you seeing as you were mostly an awkward sausage but tonight was different, he had a stern look on his face and you felt a little worried. Bakugou noticed your nervous look in the rearview mirror and without skipping a beat placed his hand gently upon your thigh and gave it a small squeeze, this thumb moved back and forth in a soothing manner. All without taking his eyes off the road.
You felt a shiver run up your spine and you bit your lip from potentially making any noise, you turned your head to face the window to prevent him from seeing the look on your face.
+
Bakugou was right about the restaurant being fancy. The place was full of people you could recognize, everyone from business moguls to celebrities, it was almost a little intimidating but you knew probably how tough it was for Bakugou to even get a table reserved at this place so you decided to instead choke down any kindlings of anxiety and replace it with a gratefulness for his hard work.
You swirled the champagne around in your glass while Bakugou took a bite out of his steak, the atmosphere between you two was a little awkward and it hadn't been like this since the two of you met it was a little alarming.
“Is something wrong..?” you ask after gently resting the glass back on the table, he wipes his mouth with his napkin and sighs.
“I’m sorry that- I seem so weird tonight” he apologizes and you shake your head.
“No no don't worry about it, I’m just worried something bad happened” you tell him, you lean forward and place your hand on his. His fingers lace themselves with yours and for a moment it feels like its just the two of you in the restaurant together.
“Nothing bad, actually something good” he explains and you're giving him a small smile
“Something good?” you question and he leans in even closer to you.
“I mean, ever since I started hanging out with you I feel like my life's changed, I’m not one to be super cheesy but I just- fuck..I like you” his face is turning a light pink and in a moment of courage you close the small distance between the two of you and press your lips against his. He immediately reciprocates the kiss, his hand sneaks up your forearm and settles on your elbow using it to pull you in closer.
When the kiss finally breaks the two of you are a panting mess, then you hear the waiter clear his throat and Bakugou uses his thumb to wipe the lipstick from the corner of his lips.
“Check, please”
+
Upon entering your home, there wasn't much speaking. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as his hands fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress. The two of you blindly walked backwards until you tripped backwards onto the couch. Bakugou completely stripped you of your dress and laid it across the back of the couch, your hands made quick work of his pants unbuttoning and unzipping them, he kicked them off eagerly uncaring of where the fabric was strewn. He cupped your cheek and continued to kiss you as he helped you wiggle out of your underwear. He sucked in a breath at feeling how wet you already were. He ran a finger up and down your slit before gently nudging a finger inside.
The sensation was foreign, it felt odd at first but the more he kept twisting and thrusting the finger inside of you the better it began to feel. He slid in another one and began making a scissor motion inside of you. Your hips raised off the cushions of the couch, you moaned into the kiss and eventually he pulled away from it, instead opting to kiss the skin of your neck. Your moans along with the wet sounds of his fingers fingering you open filled the space. It felt good, you could feel the knots in your stomach threaten to untangle the harder his fingers fucked themselves into you.
His movements slowly came to a halt and he slid his fingers out. Your eyes clouded with tears and your legs were shaking, disappointed that he stopped when you were so close. He pulled his cock from his underwear and began stroking it over you.
“Ready?” He asks as he grinds his cock against your twitching entrance and you're gripping his shoulder before he makes another move.
“A-actually..please just be gentle its-i’ve never done this before” you confess and his eyes widen for once, taken aback by your sudden profession. He gives you a small nod, “Promise.”
With one smooth stroke he bottoms out within you. Your back is arching off the couch as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. The feeling is an addicting mix of pain and pleasure that has the tears you were holding in begin to roll down your cheeks, Bakugou gently kisses them away and uses his fingers to wipe away the stray tears. For a while, you're simply holding each other, bakugou whispers words of comfort in your ears while you slowly familiarize yourself with having him inside of you.
When Bakugou feels your hips begin to move against his, he takes that as his sign to begin moving. His thrusts start shallow, hips just barely touching yours as he doesn't want to hurt you and you quickly become frustrated with his kindness. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you, forcing him to bottom out inside you again. You whine his name and he shakes his head.
“And here I was trying to be considerate” he huffs out, you grip his tie and pull him down and press a gentle kiss against his lips.
“I didn't ask you to take it easy on me” you remind him and he scoffs
“You asked for this”
You're suddenly flipped onto your stomach and he raises your hips in the air, he pulls himself all the way out of you until the head of his cock is the only thing you can still feel inside of you, he rams his cock back into you and you're gripping the couch for dear life. His hips are ruthless, lewd slapping noises fill the room as the head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. His heavy balls greet your clit with an unceremonious slap. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't think of anything else except Bakugou. You'd been completely fucked dumb on your first time.
You feel Bakugou’s fingers lace into your hair and grip the roots before pulling at them and forcing your head back. A jolt of pleasure flows through your body as his cock pushes up against your g-spot, your legs and kicking around behind you.
“No! cum-cumming kats I-” you can hardly finish your own sentence due to how hard your orgasm hits you, your body his shaking as bakugou releases your hair and uses his free hand to grip your waist as he desperately humps you, chasing his own release. Your cunt spasms around him in overstimulation, Katsuki only curses under his breath as you squeeze down on him, your cunt clamps down on his cock as you're brought to your second orgasm and his movements finally begin to slow and an unfamiliar warm fills your tummy.
He doesn't pull out right away. Instead he gently lays you backwards onto his chest and you snuggle into his chest.
He whistles, “Nice place”
“Pfft- don't try to make small talk with me after you just finished banging me” you giggle sleepily.
“Fair enough, still, I’m curious about how you can even afford this place” he wonders, hand rubbing up and down your back, only easing you closer to falling asleep.
“Hard work” you reply he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it.
“That’s my hard working girl”
you feel the butterflies swarm around your stomach all over again at his small comment.
“Does this mean we're dating now?” you ask and he gives you a little chuckle.
“Yes, if you want”
“Good then you're my boyfriend” your eyes are fluttering closed at this point, you merely nuzzle into his chest and he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.
“Goodnight love”
“Night Kats..”
#bakugou#bakugou x fem!reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou x reader smut#mha bakugo katsuki#mha bakugo x reader#bnha bakugo smut#bnha bakugo x reader#bakugou smut#mha#bnha#mha smut#bnha smut#mha bakugou#bnha bakugou#mha bakugou smut#bnha bakugo fluff#bakugou fluff#fluffy smut#bakugou fluffy smut
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