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1kook · 4 years

Text

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!!

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that.

—

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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favoniuscodex · 2 years

Note

Fingers crossed for tags to be back up soon!

If this isn’t too much trouble, what soulmate au fits Diluc best? If you don’t feel like it, have a nice day 🙃

prompt: give me a character and i'll tell you what soulmate trope suits them with diluc!

soulmate au: you can recognize your soulmate based off of laughter

a/n: read this soulmate au in another fandom long ago,,, some marvel fanfic i think ??? cannot remember the fic for the life of me but the concept has stayed and its been a few years,,, living in fear of the person who wrote this au for marvel on tumblr like 5 years ago i dont remember u im sorry im not trying to copy LMFAOOOOo

you only show up to angel's share to cry and whine. the cat's tail is usually better suited for people like you (people who much prefer the company of cats at bars than drunk knights), but the cat's tail doesn't have the person tortured to hear all of your wails: kaeya. perhaps its a bit awful that you dump it on him, but he set you up with your prior boyfriend.

it's only right that he gets to hear the fallout.

so, you sit down at the bar counter and, with teary eyes, ask the bartender for grape juice. the redheaded man is well-seasoned at the art of ignoring highly emotional customers, so he slides you a drink after you set the required mora on the table. kaeya sits down next to you as you begin to slump over with sadness. you're completely sober, weighed down only by the fact that 1. you were pathetic enough to date huffman 2. you got dumped by huffman rather than dumping him and 3. you're actually heartbroken that you are sad about huffman.

"didn't work out, huh?" kaeya says, taking a sip from his glass of wine.

you resist the urge to throttle him and instead smile sarcastically at him.

"what makes you think that?" you say.

"you really got dumped by huffman?" kaeya asks.

how humiliating, you think. "i didn't get dumped by huffman. i dumped him."

"that's a lie."

"no it's not."

you bicker back and forth with kaeya until he pauses midway to flag down the bartender, who walks over with a grimace at the sight of kaeya.

"another drink, o' lovely bartender?" kaeya asks, extending his glass to diluc, who reluctantly takes him. "diluc, i know how much you love gossip, and y/n here has some lovely news to share with you."

the bartender, whom you realize is none other than diluc ragnvindr, glances between you and kaeya. he doesn't seem like he cares about what you have to say, but kaeya looks at you with a shiteating grin on his face.

"if you tell him," kaeya interjects before you can refuse. "i'll buy you the rest of your drinks for the night."

shame flies out of the window as you turn your attention from kaeya to stare directly out of diluc. free drinks are free drinks. you'd get dumped by huffman a million times over if it meant a night of unlimited grape juice at kaeya's expense.

"hi," you quickly introduce yourself to diluc. "i got dumped by huffman."

your voice is deadpan. the news is pathetic. kaeya is looking expectantly at diluc. diluc is not responding, instead looking over at kaeya with an expression of boredom. kaeya shrugs.

"i tried," kaeya says, unbothered.

"alright! now that that's done," you say. at least you'd never have to show your face at this bar again and you'd never encounter this bartender again after revealing the most shameful thing that has ever happened to you. "i will have your most expensive drink. then you can dump it out, but charge kaeya for them anyways."

kaeya looks at you, unamused and you stick your tongue out at him teasingly. however, your oncoming bickering with kaeya is interrupted before it can even begin. from behind the counter, diluc ragnvindr does the one thing that patrons haven't heard him do in years: laugh.

you realize two things in this moment.

1. diluc ragnvindr is your soulmate.

2. you introduced yourself to your soulmate as the sorry loser who got dumped by huffman.

in your embarrassment, you laugh nervously, not realizing that it causes diluc to come to the same exact conclusion you just did.

#//mail #axia.ask game

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lovecinnatwist · 3 years

Note

Hope u stay safe and healthy! Abo with omega dick and alpha Jay, fluff if possible? Thanks :)

Hi Anon! I am in fact safe and healthy! Have a nice little ficlet of Alpha!Jason and Omega!Dick being very glad that their little pup is also safe, healthy and coming home.

Where the heart is - JayDick Omegaverse

Tags: Kid Fic, Omegaverse, Alpha Jason, Omega Dick, surrogate parent/adoption, lactating/milking Helena Wayne is Helena Mary Grayson Todd

Sometimes Dick Grayson forgets that his mate is an alpha.

It’s easy to do when Jason’s so sweet in a way that’s distinctively omegan. Perhaps it’s the influence of the mother who left him or remnants from the tender affection B only had for his second pup. It’s something soft and tender and so uniquely him that makes Dick love him more and more everyday.

Jason curls around him effortlessly. Warm muscles squeeze tight enough to be pleasant, but not chafing.

Dick has always been a runner. Jason understands that and leaves a clear exit open at all times. A difficult obstacle for traditional courting rituals. Not that the alpha had any challenge clearing hurdle after hurdle. Jason is anything but traditional as well.

So is their current situation.

A large warm hand rests on his shoulder. The heat bleeding out is more than soothing to his already twitching instincts. There’s no reason to be nervous. After all this is a natural occurrence. The pup with latch, Dick knows it will but still his heart flutters with nervousness.

Jason’s rumble soothes the eagerness away. It quells the barrage of emotions ready to burst.

“ Mr and Ms Grayson - Todd? “

The agent from CPS is wonderfully nice, light brown eyes glittering with excitement. The delightful purr of her tone of voice betrays her enthusiasm. Just as Jason’s rise in happy-hopeful-ready betrays his. Dick’s been dreaming of this day for a long time. Long before the aspiration had been stolen from him by a knife. Then again by age and a barely functioning body strung out by high stress.

It’s Jason’s strength that helps him stand.

The sleepy scent of milk and pup adorn the air like perfume. Even before Dick spots his- no their- daughter, every part of his instincts sing. His breast began to ache immediately. The grueling weeks of hormone treatments and supplements are finally worth it.

Worth it as Doctor Leslie gives him tiny, little Helena.

Dick thinks he’s been in love with her since the moment he saw her behind glass. From the moment his breast began to ache when they gave him a few of her blankets to add to his nest. From the very moment Jason told him he could have her.

She’s heavy in a way Dick doesn’t expect. The weight is foreign yet so comfortable to bear. The alpha does not press to see her, or to touch her. Dick gets a few precious moments to marvel at the prettiest pup he’s ever seen.

Gorgeous green eyes open up in seemingly joyful curiosity. Though potentially, it might just be his hopeful outlook that makes it appear that way. Dick wants so badly for her to love him. To love them- to belong to their little broken family. To an omega who is half of what they should be and an alpha who is dysphoric instead of dominating.

The scent of milk is strong enough to draw the pup to root amongst the fabric covering his breast. It’s a gentle motion, one made precious by the very soft sounds of pup calling for pack. Dick’s throat is tight from emotion. Luckily his partner wastes no time in letting out a soothing rumble. The vibrations of the action shakes against his back.

Hot tears sting two different sets of blue eyes.

“She should be quite hungry. It’s time for her lunch time feeding. I’m sure she would greatly appreciate milk from her mommy. “

The word mommy devastates him. It washes his soul out to sea, and wraps him in a whirlpool of bliss. It’s too much and not enough at the same. This child- this pup is going to see him as her dame. She will spend the rest of her life in a warm safe nest never knowing anything but love and affection. Dick hopes that she will love him despite not being apart of her DNA. For not being able to give birth to her himself.

Jason’s touch breaks the track of that train of thought.

It’s a dance to bring a beading nipple to her hungry little mouth. Jason, who is leagues more natural, helps Dick undress and get both him and the pup comfortable. If Dick is lost to the tides, the alpha is a wreckage on the bluff. The chair is big enough for both soon to be parents.

Jason’s warmth is ever present and grounding.

The massive fingers that trail down Helena’s face makes her look so tiny. Like a delicate little thing that could be broken by too fast a movement. Not that Jason has the capacity to be anything but gentle. His heart bleeds for people. It bleeds out until the entirety of Gotham is red with his protection.

It takes both of them together to get Helena to Dick’s leaking breast. The pup whines as she struggles to get the nipple in her mouth. She’s more familiar with the bottle they had told him. That it would take time but eventually she would suckle. There’s no inhale or exhale as the pup attempts to nurse.

Then like magic she latches.

The tears refuse to be held back. Dick’s heart alarmingly full as Helena feeds forcefully but eagerly. The moment she gets a mouth full she’s quick to take more. Her hungry little mouth makes loud sounds and she feeds. Jason purrs in encouragement. His hand lightly tickles her wispy black curls.

She’s perfect. She’s perfect wonderful and Dick won’t know what to do if they can’t take her home today.

Luckily they don’t have to find out. Both breast get equal attention as the infant switches from one to another. It’s so natural and easy Dick doesn’t know why he had let himself worry to begin with. They pass with flying colors. After the feeding and burping both he and Jason get a neat stack of forms that require their signatures.

Then she’s free to leave with them.

Jason holds Helena as Dick takes his turn to sign. The alpha looks so at ease with their baby girl in his arms. His muscular frame dwarfing her’s. Dick hopes that the pup knows there is no place safer than in her father’s arms. Even if she seems grumpy as he harrasses her in her drowsy state.

Dick has to steal her back when the alpha kisses her nose, drawing a very upset puppy whine from her still developing vocal chords. Jason is absolutely heartbroken to let her go. At some point when Leslie goes to process the paperwork they get to be alone with their daughter.

Helena Mary Grayson-Todd.

Jason takes to sating his instincts by smothering Dick instead of their very sleepy pup.

“She’s so beautiful. “He murmurs, voice low enough not to set her off again. The thickness of the words would be impossible not to recognize. Though he’s doing a good job holding it together, Dick can tell the alpha is close to tears. The gravity of the situation finally sinks in.

“ You were perfect Dickie. “

The nickname melts down his spine, deep and warm like something butter. Typically that tone would make his eyes flutter shut. His body going loose and lax against his mate. Not now however. Now while his eyes are so busy trying to memorize everything about their pup.

The process had been grueling. They had to get Jason legal, find a reputable company, pick a donor, try on each of her ovulations, suffer when it didn’t take, then try again, then the paper work, the fees, the complications, the waiting- Oh God the waiting.

It had been the worst, most agonizing part. Right after the premature birth, and watching their little one breathe in a little shallow tank, kept warm by heat lamps.

How Dick wishes he could have just taken her home that very first day.

Not that it matters anymore. Not when she’s theirs now. Not when she get’s to come home today and be put in their nest where she belongs. Right in-between her two parents.

God Dick doesn’t know how he’ll manage to share her. The perfect pup in his arms is just so wonderful. It’s been such a long agonizing journey, he barely wants to hand her over to her sire.

He laughs, wetly, trying not to wake Helena from her nap.

“ If I can’t share you with Daddy how will I give you to your aunties and uncles huh? “

Jason’s laugh is close to his ear, sweet and silent to the point where it barely breathes. The soft sound makes his toes curl in his shoes. The searing comfort of love and happiness runs through his body as happy chills.

It’s something to get familiar with. The quiet laugh of a father trying not to wake their pup.

He looks at those watery blue-green eyes and Dick is falling in love all over again.

God who knew they could end up here? The two of them- finally starting a family together. That they could walk away from a life of pain and agony, to gift themselves something so beautiful.

For the first time in months, giving up the moniker doesn’t feel so suffocating.

When Jason laces their fingers together over their pup he knows his husband, his mate, the half of his heart agrees.

All while the new half lays in their arms, peaceful, healthy and forever loved.

#jaydick #omegaverse #alpha!jason #omega!dick #ficlet #request #kid fic #fluffy fluff #mommy Dick #Daddy Jason #ficlets

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parvulous-writings · 3 years

Text

SFW alphabet// Obi-Wan Kenobi x reader

Request: There isn’t one- this is pure self indulgence.

Submitted by: MEEEE

Genre/fandom: Fluff/Star Wars

Warnings: None.

Summary: SFW alphabet for Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Not my gif

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Obi-Wan is pretty damn affectionate- when you both are alone. In public, it is often a different story. That’s not to say he doesn’t sweet talk you quietly when you’re out and about, but he rarely holds your hand when in places that the Jedi Order could see you. When you are alone though, either in his quarters, your Coruscant apartment or elsewhere out of sight, he is one of the most affectionate people you’ve ever met, giving you so many hugs and kisses it’s hard to count. One of his favourite things to do, during slower days, he’ll sit in his favourite chair whilst he reads, letting you sit in a nearby chair, your hands linking you both together. B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)

Quite simply, Obi-Wan is one of the nicest and fairest beings in the galaxy, and the very best friend should you put the effort in to get to know him- though, even if you don’t, he’s still extraordinarily kind hearted, and ever the gentleman. The friendship would probably start when he’s assigned to protect you- and of course he politely introduces himself, and you’re drawn to his friendly and calming presence.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He ADORES cuddles. All of them. In bed, in comfy chairs, standing up- anywhere, anyhow, so long as you aren’t discovered. Given half the chance, he would cuddle you to the end of time. He’s a big one for physical affection. A lot of his favourite moments with you are spent curled up together, talking about both everything and nothing, basking in each others company. D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?) Obi-Wan would love to settle down- and he was incredibly ready to leave the Jedi Order for you, but you told him to stay, at least for Anakin’s sake. He is a marvelous cook- and you can’t convince me otherwise. You don’t go out for secret date nights, oh no, Obi-Wan cooks you a delicious home-made meal. He’s also quite clean, doing all the chores around his quarters almost every day or when he gets the chance between training sessions, meetings and the missions. E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) If he had to, he would try and let you down slowly. He would try not to make a show of it and explain calmly to you why he think it would be best for you to go your separate ways. It would break him inside, but he’d keep his composure until he was alone. F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?) He would like very much to get married to you 😊 you are his one and only living love, after all. He’d leave the Order for you, if you let him. Enough said, really. G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?) Very gentle physically, very very gentle indeed. His touches are always so soft, as if he’s nervous that you’re only a dream, and if he’s too rough with you, you’ll suddenly poof out of existence. It’s quite sweet, actually. H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?) Like with cuddles, Obi is a pretty big hugger. His hugs are warm, and full of all the love he holds for you. You almost always catch his scent- the faint smell of spices, and it always calms you down, it’s soothing. His hands often find the small of your back and the back of your head, supporting you as well as keeping you close to him. I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?) Not particularly quickly- he tries to suppress his feelings at first, and it takes many weeks of being around you for him to even admit to himself that he liked you, not to mention how long it took for him to muster up the courage to admit his feelings for you. Even after he admits his love for you, he usually only says the L word when he thinks it’s a special occasion- though he makes sure that you know he loves you in other ways.

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?)

Obi-Wan doesn’t often get jealous- he understands the need for close friendships outside of your relationship. But there have been one or two instances where his emotions have gotten the better of him. When he’s jealous, he can get rather possessive. He doesn’t mean to- he truly doesn’t- but he’ll put his arm around your waist, pull you close to his side, whilst giving a very dark glare to send them a message. (He’ll try not to do this in front of Jedi, and has so far succeeded in that regard.) K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) Obi-Wan’s kisses are often quite light and brief- as most of them are given in public. Kisses in private are much deeper, much more passionate, much longer. His favourite place to kiss you is the very tip of your nose, he doesn’t know why really, he just thinks it’s a very endearing place to kiss you. His favourite place to be kissed is just under his jaw, your lips just seem to press against his skin so nicely there. L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?) Oh, Obi-Wan is a dream around children! He is a wonderful mentor to the younglings in the temple- a brilliant father figure for those who see him as such. Absolute father/husband material, I tell you. M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?) They are sometimes few and far between, but... Imagine the most idyllic scene you can think of. Sunlight streaming through the window and lightly hitting your face, as the wonderful smell of breakfast hits your nose, rousing you from your slumber. There he stands, in his nightclothes with his back to you, as he cooks you a glorious breakfast. He turns to smile at you as you get up, moving over to quickly give you a morning kiss on the cheek. That is a morning with Obi-Wan. N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?) Just as heavenly as the mornings. They’re quiet, more often than not, but they’re still wonderful. Though just as rare as the mornings, if not rarer, you both spend the first part of the evening watching the sun set, before dining together, and finally ending up in each others arms, talking nonsense till you both find slumber. O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?) Usually late at night, a month or so into your relationship. It’s not about what most people would consider ‘secrets’, but to Obi-Wan these things are incredibly personal. He talks to you about the bond he had with his master, and how he felt when he lost him, he talks about how proud he is of Anakin, all of it. It takes a few weeks and countless late nights, but you’re both all the closer to one another for it. P - Patience (How easily angered are they?) Man’s a Jedi. The King of patience. He doesn’t often get angry. When he does, though... Yikes. He loses it. Thankfully his rage is almost never directed towards you.

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?) He remembers everything you tell him, down to the last detail. You mention something as a throwaway comment? I guarantee you he’ll be doing or purchasing something to do with that little throwaway line. Every detail goes into his head and never leaves. R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?) A time he found you entertaining the younglings whilst waiting for you. You seemed so happy, your eyes sparkling and full of life, glinting as you laughed. He leant against the wall, just watching you as you played with them, letting them embrace their childhood for a little bit longer. It is something he’ll often play it over and over again in his head when he’s watching you sleep.

S - Security (How protective are they?) Obi-Wan knows you have to fight your own battles, and he does try his best to let you do that, offering guidance if you need it. However, when he knows you’re out of your depth- whatever that may be- he will step in and defend you in whatever way he needs to. T - Try (How much effort do they put in?) He puts in so much effort for you, trying to prove himself to you even though you constantly remind him he doesn’t need to. He also finds it his constant quest to make it up to you for not spending more time with you when in the Order. You tell him not to do that too, but he never seems to listen. U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?) Apologising too much. For not spending enough time with you, for being late when he isn’t.. Little things. Little, pesky things. It started off sweet at first, but quickly you found it to be a little bit of a problem. V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Not really that concerned. He keeps himself clean of course, he has more than enough decency for that, but he’s not really that fussed. He’ll pay more attention to small things- like the style of his hair or how he wears his robe- if he wants to impress you, but he’s not exactly vain. W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) Oh he would definitely feel incomplete without you. He misses you deeply when on missions- and even goes as far to use his holocom to contact you when far off and he can’t bear not hearing your voice anymore. X - Xtra (Random HC) Obi-Wan is an absolutely divine cook. You want a meal that the canteens or cafeteria don’t do a good job on? Say no more, he shall provide for you. He’d cook practically anything for you, just to see you smile. Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?) Obi-Wan isn’t particularly fussy when it comes to partners, however there is one thing that almost always has to be there. Manners. Otherwise, you may just have a few ettiquete lessons from Master Kenobi. Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)

Obi-Wan is usually a sound sleeper, and has a regular sleeping pattern. This pattern is only slightly taken off track when you sleep in the same bed as him, and he’ll spend at least half an hour running his hands through your hair as you sleep, admiring the blissful smile that crosses your lips.

#obi wan fluff #obi wan x reader #obi wan headcanon #sfw alphabet #sfw x reader #star wars #star wars fluff #star wars x reader #no y/n #kenobi #kenobi fluff #kenobi x reader #obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi #star wars imagines #star wars headcanons #please request #x reader requests #requests open

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

In My Dreams

Characters: Albedo, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,082

Warnings: Waking dreams, amnesia, visions/hallucinations

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: Translation notes and historical references will come after the fic. Tried to be detailed with warnings, tell me if you want me to tag anything else.

Albedo

When you’d first met Albedo you were in awe of his intellect, his passion for alchemy which he honed to a fine point. He had a way of talking about the world around him and himself in a way that was utterly self-assured. This captivated you, made you wish to develop the same thing in turn; the ability to know oneself was an enviable one.

The old Mondstadt ruins were a perfect sketching place. Filled with an old sense of magic, even centuries after its fall, there was an atmosphere to it absolutely perfect for painting. Or so Albedo said – though you found some joy in intermittent sketching you were no master of the art.

While Albedo set up his easel you went around the edge of your little spot, making sure that the monsters that usually dominated the place were at least far away enough as to not cause any interference. The world around you was one of almost perfect peace, the lazy breeze acting as a buffer for the slight heat, the puffy clouds in the sky shading you from the worst of the sunlight.

“It’s such a beautiful day!” You called out. “It almost makes you forget all your worries.”

“That’s certainly true.” Albedo voice called out in reply. “Truly a wonderful time to paint.”

Turning around to join your partner you suddenly felt heard a familiar cackle. Whirling around you found yourself face to face with a hydro Abyss Mage. Annoyance flashed through your mind as your summoned your catalyst. Though the Abyss was certainly a syndicate to be worried about, you couldn’t help but think of the Mage in front of you as little more than a pest, for surely there couldn’t be anything more annoying than the sudden interruption of your outing.

Calling out Albedo’s name you held out your arms, cursing the fact that your bursts of electro weren’t as effective against the Mage’s shield as you’d like it to be. Thankfully a familiar cry of “be careful!” could be heard, as your partner quickly approached, sword in hand, eyes full of the cold determination which was so familiar to you in battle. The combination of your this with his swings soon had the shield dripping, before it burst apart, falling onto the ground in a puddle of water. Standing over the mage Albedo narrowed his eyes.

“Now this is new.”

Following his gaze you could see what he meant. Emblazoned on the side of the Abyss Mage’s robe was a star, made up of a myriad of silver threads jutting out from a red circle in which sat a crown ringed by indecipherable writing. The symbol made you pause, made you take a shaky step back as your throat began to constrict painfully. That symbol, you knew that symbol, you knew that crown. What was it? What was this Abyss Mage wearing?

Albedo appeared somewhat oblivious of your violent reaction, slashing through the Abyss Mage until they disappeared in a puff of ash. Turning around you could see the same mild mannered smile on his face as always, his expression almost one of soft embarrassment. Taking a deep breath you attempted to relax your features, hoping your partner wouldn’t see the panic that laced through you.

“That was an unpleasant surprise. Let’s go back to the clearing, we deserve a little bit of rest.”

“You’re right; that really was a nasty surprise.” You let out a soft laugh, not looking behind at the spot where the Mage had fallen as you allowed Albedo to guide you back towards his easel and away from that too familiar star.

-----

The symbol wouldn’t leave you alone however. Though the rest of the day was perfectly pleasant, the art Albedo had managed to begin showing the immense promise it always did, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Over and over the star danced behind your eyelids, taunting you with hidden information. You knew that the writing was nothing familiar to Teyvat, Albedo himself admitting he’d never seen such a script before. And yet you had; though the memory eluded you the knowledge remained.

You didn’t like to be reminded of your past, of the world that had disappeared before your fingers. It was a world you could barely remember, though surely that was a blessing. Your family had been murdered after all, though you didn’t know why you were sure that they were long dead. Who wants to be the last of anything? Certainly you didn’t want to be. Life was a lonely enough road already; better to focus on the bright future ahead of you than always turning to look back.

And yet the star remained.

You told Albedo that you were simply going out to look for supplies, having noticed no few veins of crystal ore near where the two of you had spent an afternoon. Batting away his questions and his worries you set out with purpose. It wouldn’t take that long, waypointing did most of the job. And you could hardly say that you feared a Ruin Guard or some such thing. You could take care of yourself, and you’d done worse things than take a midnight expedition to an abandoned ruin.

Old Mondstadt looked different in the dark, though perhaps that shouldn’t have surprised you. Old secrets always came out in the night, and the now crumbling city was certainly filled with old secrets. Now they beckoned at you, calling out their siren song, promising an answer to all your questions.

Standing in the middle of one of the stone circles you closed your eyes. Something seemed to be buzzing around you, an energy, a promise. Letting your mind drift you saw the star once more. Reaching out your arm you could almost touch its surface, studded with precious gems, smooth and fragile and a symbol of an old power.

You barely noticed the music at first, so soft was it. And yet somehow you began to move, to dance, following a long forgotten rhythm. Opening your eyes you saw a scene begin to unfold around you, shaping itself out of the dark. You were in a large room now, smooth marble under your feet. Looking up you saw an amber ceiling, You marveled at the intricate design, the flowers which bloomed beneath your feet while golden clouds floated above your head. For a moment you were so entranced by this familiar scene that you took no notice of the people around you, however the moment they entered your vision you could think of nothing else.

They were so familiar, these ghosts of the past. Though you couldn’t make out any of their features, which seemed misty and constantly changing, you felt an immediate sense of recognition. Wandering among these ghosts, you found yourself copying their steps, waltzing with no one but yourself, surrounded by a sea of memory. You felt like you were floated, wrapped in the fabric of the past, so real you could practically feel the fabric of your uniform changing beneath your fingertips, morphing into silk.

Still feeling as if there was more to be seen you looked around, finally finding the answer to your unspoken question at the top of a small group of stairs. Though the specters around you had no discernable features the same could not be said of the people who now gazed down at you, peaceful smiles upon their faces. One of them, a young man who looked to be a little older than you, stepped off the small landing, practically floating as he made his way towards you. There was a familiar star on his uniform, and a comforting smile in his eyes. Bowing softly he took your hand. No words were necessary, you both knew this dance.

The music swelled around you, almost saccharine in tone, coated by the sweetness of a long forgotten nostalgia. You made no attempt to talk to the boy, feeling that words were altogether unnecessary. After all, what could one say to a shadow of the past? There was nothing to muse on, no moments of happiness which you could conjure. There was nothing except familiar company and soothing music; right now that was enough.

Slowly you could feel the world slow down, almost as if the air had grown thicker. A drowsiness washed over you, but you pushed it down. This was a memory of the past after all, something precious to be savored, not something one could simply wake up from. And yet the dance slowed to its end and eventually you were left standing in the middle of the room, looking at the boy who you knew had once been your family.

A look of mischief crossed over his peaceful face, and he leaned in to whisper something to you. “Ferme les yeux sit u veux voir” the words passed over you in blissful familiarity, and you smiled up at this unknown family member, the heaviness around you feeling like a thick blanket. You wanted to know more. You wanted to know your family.

“Hey.”

A familiar voice broke through your reverie, the scene around you tearing apart like tissue paper as Albedo grasped on to your wrist. Whirling around to face him you found your eyes scanning your now gloomy surroundings, as if looking for an opening that might return you to that peaceful room.

“What happened?”

Albedo’s voice was full of gentle concern, and you leaned into his touch as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. And yet you still felt an overwhelming sense of loss, a sadness that pierced through your soul like a dagger.

“I’m sorry.”

“You did nothing wrong. I only wish to know why you were dancing with yourself at midnight.”

“I… I was dreaming.”

“Dreaming?” Albedo raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you gazed out upon the ruins, “I was dreaming. And yet it was so real, I hardly realized I’d fallen into it.”

“How odd.”

“Yes, I don’t know how it happened. Maybe I’m just tired.”

“Perhaps.”

And yet you knew that wasn’t the end of it. Lying on the bed you shared with Albedo, listening to the familiar sound of soft breathing, you gazed up at the ceiling, conjuring faces on the white stone, you mind ceaselessly dancing to a somehow familiar tune.

After that you seemed to fall into dreams more and more, stepping into them as easily as one might walk into the sea. It was small at first. Figures at the corner of your eyes, a sign that turned into that now all too familiar symbol, the sense of one more walking on marble. It was easy enough to ignore, after all you were probably just a little burnt out. However within a few weeks these dreams were becoming more and more difficult to ignore.

The first time it happened was when you were gathering berries. Suddenly the ground shifted beneath you and you were once more in that room, once more surrounded by familiar strangers, once more reaching out to your family. You began to recognize them more and more: the lines of worry that painted your mother’s otherwise smiling face, the way your father stroked his beard quickly, putting his arm back down quickly as to keep his ramrod stance; the way your brother stood a little ways away from the rest, and always approached you even when the others held back. You had no way of verifying the truth of any of these dreams, no way of knowing whether or not these were memories of merely fantasies. Yet how real they were, how real and how terribly disorienting.

A blanket of paranoia settled over you as you continued to fall into these dreams again and again. Every waking moment was a moment of chance, when you might suddenly once more disappear into the realm of dreams. Commissions became almost impossible, you teetered your way from one destination to another, sometimes barely able to dodge the attacks of treasure hoarders and Fatui members. It seemed as if these dreams were no longer revealing information to you, but instead holding you hostage. You always managed to fall when dealing with the Abyss.

Eventually you handed in a letter of leave to Katherine, trying to bat off her questions as you explained that you were finding the work overwhelming. It wasn’t like you were lying anyways; the work was overwhelming. How could it not be, when you could never trust yourself? Trudging back to your apartment that afternoon you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. It was so frustrating, it was so frustrating to lose oneself.

You no longer felt sure, no longer felt the self-assurance that you’d once known. Who were you? What in Teyvat, what in the vast universe had happened to you? You’d accepted your lack of memories, accepted the fact that whatever you escaped was something lost to the sands of time. You never wanted the past to be dragged in front of you, thrown at your feet as you stared at it in horrified fascination. And yet you hadn’t learned anything, not really. All you’d managed to do was shatter what little confidence you’d had in who you were.

“You shouldn’t run away from this.”

The voice was that of a stranger, yet filled with a strange familiarity. Raising your head up you saw your brother appear in front of you, a sole figure against a sea of black.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re trying to run away, you’re trying to forget your destiny.”

“And what destiny is that, what could the past of a destroyed land tell me about my future now?”

“Many things, if you’d let it talk.”

“I already know that I have to be careful, that I cannot take things for granted. These visions, they do nothing but harm me.”

“Your frustration should have nothing to do with us and everything to do with them.”

“Them?”

“The people who slaughtered our family. The gods who stood by and said nothing. Did you not wonder why the Abyss Mage should be sporting such a crest? They’re the only answer. If you weren’t so blind you’d be able to see that.”

“The Abyss is full of monsters, they only bring destruction.”

“Destruction?” Your brother snorted, a cruel expression marring his face, its intensity and hatred something you were sure hadn’t existed before. “No more destruction than the gods have caused. At least the Abyss wishes to right a wrong. Should a crime not be avenged?”

“… This isn’t what you were like.” You shook your head violently, something welling up inside you, something threatening to snap. “I no longer recognize you.”

“You don’t remember me. How can you say what I was once like?”

“I can, I simply can. How do we recognize the people destined to be our family? We simply can.”

“You always were such a simpleton; even now you refuse to understand the evils of the world.”

“I refuse to contribute to them.”

“You know nothing of the world.”

“She knows a great deal more than you.” Albedo’s voice rippled through the nothingness of your dream. Appearing besides you the world shimmered around him, your vision tearing at the seams as you returned to the real world.

“And who are you to say that?” Your brother sneered. “You carry enough rage in your heart, if you even have one alchemist.”

“Perhaps I don’t have one.” Albedo’s voice was calm, grounding you as you stepped towards him. “And yet it would be better to have no heart than a rotten one.”

“We’ll see if you hold that same opinion when the Abyss once rises up.” Your brother smiled, gaze once more fixing on you, eyes pinpricks of rage. “I hope you’ll join me someday sister. If you do then you might finally see us all again. And if not, I’ll see you one day on the battlefield.”

You shook slightly, watching mutely as his figured faded into the wall of your apartment. Sinking down on the nearest couch you let out a few shaky breaths, trying to process what had just happened.

“I trust he’ll no longer come to haunt you.” Albedo sat next to you, a glass of water somehow in his hand.

“I hope not.”

“This is what you meant when you said you were dreaming, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It was different this time however. Usually, usually no one else can see them.”

“Perhaps he wanted it to be that way.”

“Perhaps.” You shook your head, staring down at the palms of your hands. “I don’t know.”

“What do you not know?”

“Everything! I… I no longer know who I am. I’d always thought that I knew myself, that you had helped me realize the need to do so. Now however, now I have no clue. My family, if they’re dead so be it. I’d rather it be that way then, well I’m not sure what this is.”

“I think you know who you are.” Albedo’s eyes were earnest as her stared at you. “You have created your own life, your own sense of self. I don’t know what your brother was hoping to do – or what he thinks you should be – but he cannot change who you are. You’re your own being after all.”

You pondered Albedo’s response, the familiar confidence of his tone, the way he seemed to be stating fact rather than opinion. And perhaps he was right, he often was.

“What if the dreams come back?” You whispered.

“Then I’ll find a way to fight them off.” Albedo took your hand. “You shouldn’t have to suffer for the dreams of your brother, of a past you cannot remember. You shouldn’t be made to feel an artificial vengeance.”

It was all the encouragement that needed to be said. Throwing your arms around Albedo you closed your eyes, resting your head against his shoulder.

The past was something still alive, threads and hooks that dug into your skin and pulled you backwards, away from the place you’d made your own. It was a beautiful façade yes, but that didn’t hide its superficiality. A constructed past, one imagined by an unreliable narrator, could never be trusted, could never be learned from. What could be known was what you’d already built, the relationships that defined yourself now.

Perhaps you would never truly know the past. But as long as you knew yourself, that was all that mattered.

-------

The symbol that the reader sees is essentially the badge of the Order of Sainll Catherine. This was a Russian order bestowed upon Grand Duchesses at birth and given to others such as Princesses of the Blood upon special dates or conditions. The only order higher than it was the Order of Saint Andrew, which was reserved for men excepting the Empress. I will link a picture in the reblog.

The song I used is La berceuse d’Ahtohallan. The lyrics translate roughly to: “Close your eyes if you wish to see.”

The room that I used as reference is a combination of various Winter Palace rooms and the Amber Room, which has actually been lost to time due mainly to destruction during WWII. We don’t actually know exactly where it is/was.

#genshin impact fanfiction #albedo x reader #albedo #genshin impact #genshin albedo #waking dreams #amnesia #visions #hallucinations #requested #scenarios #my writing

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dearestones · 2 years

Text

Tea Mug Facade (U-2048 x NT-4201 Scenario)

Warnings: Slight fluff, implied U-2048 x NT-4201)

Anonymous Request: CAW: 2048/4201 (platonic or shippy) 2048 finds himself sharing a table in the liver with 4201 who is caring for a sleeping 3803 who's head is in her lap. She wants him to stay to keep anyone from bothering them and 2048 quickly finds his cool facade does not work on the blunt prodigy who has little filter to her intimidating observations. Still, she's kinder then she looks and the two find out maybe they're similar (2048 insecure about not being perfect, 4201 feeling weak under pressure).

After a series of hectic missions and patrols, U-2048 thought that he was long overdue for some quality time in the liver. Cells like himself didn’t have enough time for vices, but whenever he did manage to get himself some free time, he quite liked hanging around the pretty hepatocytes. After bidding his squad goodbye, 2048 quickly tracked down to the liver, his mood in high spirits as he looked forward to spending the rest of the cycle getting pampered by the famed hostesses.

As he passed through the establishment’s doors, he found himself instantly relaxing. Due to the nature of the body, he wouldn’t have been surprised if a bacterial invasion were to occur while he was off duty. Once it was quite clear that bacterial invasions weren’t on the body’s agenda for now, he slipped inside and found himself marveling at the familiar setting.

Numerous tables were filled with cells of all sorts. Chief among them were red blood cells and a few immune cells, some of whom he had worked with. Just as he was about to head to the bar, one of the red blood cells at a far off secluded corner caught his eye.

She was tall and had a face that looked like it was common for her to look either placid or scowling instead of smiling. On the table, her standard issue beret that was common for red blood cells to wear lay next to a pastry and a mug of tea. It took a couple more seconds to realize that the red blood cell that had caught his attention was the mentee of that one erythrocyte that liked to hang out around U-1146.

What was her name again? AE-3803?

She was a bright little thing, a quaint little abnormality in the body, but one that surpassed all expectations. The cell in the liver, though, was the picture perfect representation of what a red blood cell should be like.

It was such a shame that 2048 didn’t know her any better; he liked having someone to talk to if the hepatocytes were swamped by work.

As soon as he was about to avert his gaze, though, the red blood cell managed to find him. She said no words and made no gestures, but simply kept his attention with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

Well, any company was good company.

Plus… 2048 was on amiable, if distant terms with 3803. If there was one thing that he learned from spending time with 1146, it was that getting exposed to the other side of life in the body was a good reminder why they were chosen as defenders.

(There was also the added benefit that this young lady cell was easy on the eyes).

Keeping his strides long and purposeful, 2048 tried to look carefree and welcoming as possible. The thing is, with civilian cells, you needed a gentle hand with them. Most of his coworkers often came across as too overwhelming, especially when in the throes of their receptors getting signaled by bacteria. 2048 wasn’t any better, but he knew that it was best to approach slowly and with a demeanor that didn’t scream bloodlust and single minded determination.

However, as much as 2048 expected the blood cell to demur or look abashed at his advancing presence, her stare did not waver. She looked rather bored, but she did nothing to veer him off course.

Finally, when he reached her booth, he saw that the red blood cell wasn’t on her own. With her head resting on her mentee’s lap, 3803 slept like a young cell fresh from getting differentiated in the hematopoietic strains.

“Rough day?”

Every cell had their rough days, but 2048 was sympathetic all the same. While immune cells could afford to have a semblance of a break in between missions (hectic as they were), red blood cells were on their feet and running without stopping. The only time they were ever at rest was whenever they were collecting or depositing packages.

“You could say that.” The younger red blood cell took a sip out of her mug tea with one hand while the other carefully petted the wayward curls atop 3803’s head. A quick glance at the beret that lay on the table revealed that the cell’s designation tag was NT-4201.

Huh, talk about new.

Fixing a charming smile on his face, he leaned on the booth and asked, “Would you like me to make things better?”

It wasn’t one of his finer lines, but to be frank, it was a trying day. Battles were won, yes, but the fact that bacterial invasions were a sight too common during the cold season, which rankled everyone's nerves.

“Yes.”

2048 blinked.

“W-wha—”

“You heard me. You want to make things better, I won’t object. Sit here and make yourself useful.”

Stunned and embarrassed beyond all belief, the white blood cell immediately took her suggestion and took the seat opposite her. The last time someone had the courage to talk to him like that, it was his mentor during his myelocyte days. Had she been hiding all of that spine? Or was she always that blunt?

To say that he was flabbergasted by her straight and honest response to his flirtations was an understatement.

“…and how do I make myself useful?”

4201 took another sip of her tea. “Keep the hostesses happy and away from me.” At his bewildered expression, she elaborated—albeit, a little reluctantly and with a sense of remorse. “Most of them are under the impression that my mentor is ill. She’s not,” her tone becoming slightly defensive, “and I tried telling them, but most of them are coming around like the macrophages that used to baby us back in the bone marrow. It’s annoying.”

A deterrent.

That’s what he was.

He tried another quip. “So I’m not here because of my devilish good looks?”

4201 blank stare could level entire buildings and obliterate the RNA in bacteria.

She took another sip of her tea as if to ready the next scathing reply.

“I need something to distract myself while my mentor sleeps.”

Was she…? Is he…?

For the first time since he started talking to her, 2048 dropped all pretense and simply asked. If being coy was only going to end up with him reeling with more questions than he could ever hope to answer, he would have to play it straight.

No charades.

“I don’t get it.” He leaned into the palm of his hand and peered at 4201 closely. Most cells would have quivered at his scrutiny, but she took it like she had been handed a package of carbon dioxide—with banal interest. “Are you flirting with me?”

He watched as she daintily lifted a hand to her mouth, her jaw tensing slightly before she breathed in deeply. It took a second, but then he realized that she was hiding a yawn. It would have been amusing, but now 2048 was just concerned.

Thankfully, 4201 decided to give him the same treatment. All honesty, full transparency.

“A little bit, yeah. You seemed a bit anxious, so I decided to play along for a bit.”

The neutrophil blanched. “I don’t get anxious.”

One of her eyebrows arched up near her hairline, the disbelief in her gaze all too obvious.

“Every time I’ve spoken to you in the last five minutes, you fidget and flex your fingers before answering me. Even now, you’re taking what I say and dissecting everything like you want to make every subsequent response perfect.” She brushed a finger over the rim of her mug, her gaze dropping to the contents before making eye contact with him again. “If it makes you feel any better, I don't do too well in stressful environments either.”

It was a shame that 4201 wasn’t differentiated as an immune cell. Her eyesight alone would have been a great asset. Not to mention her reasoning.

But that didn’t mean that he was going to comment on the fact that she knew that he was nervous. Hah! As if he would ever admit that there were times when he had little faith in his abilities in and out of the battlefield.

So, like any good warrior worth their salt, he decided to latch onto his opponent’s weak point and attack.

“I can’t imagine running around the body never gets any less stressful.” He shuddered just to think about it. “Don’t you guys have deadlines and quotas to fulfill?”

“Oh?” She seemed confused, as if not exactly hearing his question before collecting herself. “Those are fine. It’s when the body decides to shut down on itself that stresses me out.” She tapped her mug on its handle. “That and well… sitting here kind of stresses me out too.”

2048 had to process that.

The seemingly unflappable and serious 4201 wasn’t as strong or as resilient as he thought she was? True, he may have never interacted with her often, but he always had the sense that she had so many things under control. From the way 3803 would tell it, her mentee was the best that the body could offer. Always studious, hard working, and by the book.

“Really? You always seemed sort of… perfect to me.”

She smiled. It wasn’t as bright or as warm as any other smiles that he had seen before in his life, but it was genuine.

“I’ve been pretending to drink tea for the past thirty minutes so I won’t have to talk directly to the hostesses.”

When 2048 leaned over to glance at her cup, he saw that the porcelain only held the leftover dregs at the bottom.

He couldn’t help himself; he laughed.

“You want to know a little secret?” At her hesitant nod, he bit back a grin. “Sometimes, I’m not as perfect as I think I am.”

“Mr. Neutrophil!” Her eyes wide, she clutched a hand against her chest. “No!”

“Oh, yes.” He nodded sagely. “Dare I say that even I make a fool out of myself in front of pretty cells.”

A beat.

And they both erupted into laughter.

Later on, 3803 would awake, bleary eyed and confused with only the knowing and conspiratorial smiles to answer her questions.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

HATARAKU SAIBOU (CELLS AT WORK) MASTERLIST

#cells at work #hataraku saibou #caw #caw anon #devintrinidad #dearestones #u-2048 #2048 #u2048 #nt-4201 #4201 #nt4201 #wbc x rbc #nt-4201 x u-2048

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teawaffles · 3 years

Text

There’s No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 3

“Fred. How’s their acting like to you?” Jack asked in a low voice.

They were seated at the edge of the stalls. They could also see Bond from where they were, completely focused on the stage.

“I’m not an actor myself, so this is just my personal opinion — but I think they’re awfully good,” Fred replied.

Jack gazed at the stage with a serious look in his eyes.

“I think so too. I won’t discount the fact that their sets and props look a little homemade, maybe due to a lack of budget; but when it comes to acting, each one of them is highly skilled. I can tell that the performers are all deeply familiar with the intent of the script.”

They were no theatre professionals for sure, but they possessed an eye for the true essence of their art.

The creases near Jack's eyes deepened as he quietly groaned.

“And best of all is that lady.”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Moran agreed. With Fred included, all of them were focused on the lone person on the stage.

As Jack had pointed out, Maya, the chairwoman, was the standout actress even among the highly-skilled members of her own company.

Although she only held the lead role in “The Little Match Girl”, and was relegated to supporting roles for the other stories, the delivery of her lines, the movements of her body and hands, and even the slight shifts in her gaze — each and every one of her actions was perfectly under her control. They had seen a glimpse of this when she’d stood before her fellow company members previously, but this person on stage was completely different from the one who'd spoken to them at the entrance.

Even accounting for the fact that she had written the script herself, this level of sophistication in acting was not one which could be achieved by some run-of-the-mill actress. Moreover, the lines and pauses in the script had been carefully crafted to make it easy for the audience to relate to the stories.

From then on, the three of them enjoyed the rest of the play in silence, marvelling at her exceptional talent. Eventually, the rehearsal came to an end.

“——That concludes our performance. Thank you very much for coming.”

After her closing words, the company lined up on stage, silently waiting for Bond’s comments. While there had not been any flashy moments during the performance, almost all of them had sweat on their foreheads. Each breath they took revealed the depth of their concentration.

“…………”

For a short while, Bond stared at the stage without saying a word. Growing uneasy at the silence, the company members lowered their gazes slightly.

After what seemed like an eternity, Bond cleared his throat, and adjusted his posture. Seeing that, the company members straightened their backs.

“——If I were to summarise my thoughts, I think your acting has already reached a high standard. I’m sure all of you have put in much time and effort to achieve this.”

Their faces beamed at his compliment. But Bond would not allow them to be satisfied with that alone.

He rose from his seat.

“But that’s also why some bad habits have stood out to me. For example, the witch in ‘The Little Mermaid’: there were times when your movements were too exaggerated. I know that you wanted to emphasise her sinister nature, but the way you did so may turn off the audience.”

“Y-Yes……”

The actress who’d been singled out hung her head, perhaps out of shock. But Bond ignored this, and pointed to another woman.

“Now, you played the main character in ‘The Red Shoes’. I watched your steps after putting on the shoes — have you properly studied dance? It’s true that even some stage professionals may think that it’s alright to just mimic the real thing, but if you really want to make your performance more authentic, you must take the time to learn how to do it properly. Your audience will not be satisfied unless you show them a level of skill that will astonish even people in that profession.”

“Understood!” she responded with vigour.

“Next up is you: the way you project your voice——”

Then Bond singled out each of the performers in turn, highlighting in detail what they needed to work on. He only needed to watch their play once to spot areas for improvement at such a fine level of detail — his eye for the arts gave them all a sense of the former professional’s brilliance.

At last, Bond finished addressing every member of the company. But he then swept his gaze over the entire theatre.

“In addition…… this isn’t your fault at all, but your success today was only possible due to the small size of this theatre,” he said, with some distress. “If we were in a bigger venue, the hall would be wider and deeper to accommodate the larger audience. In other words, I’m afraid that with your current performance, your voices simply would not reach the entire audience.”

Maya paled.

“So, in order to accommodate the size of the venue……”

“Yes. The worst-case scenario would be that you have to rework the entire play. By the way, when is the opening night?”

“T—Two weeks later.”

The entire room was enveloped in silence. Even from where they were seated, Moran and the others felt the weight of their despair: all the hard work they had put in thus far, might just have amounted to nothing.

Even Bond, who had revealed this harsh reality, dropped his gaze and grimaced.

“Well, there are a fair number of productions that focus only on the stage, and do not account for the size of the audience, so you may not have to change——”

“——No, we’ll do it.”

Maya sharply interrupted his proposal.

“You’ve seen how I am; I’ve always been timid and hesitant…… but theatre is the one thing I will never compromise on. Especially now — this is a rare opportunity for us. For my fellow company members, for the people who’ve supported us this far, I want to show them something I’ve put every effort into making.”

“…………”

At her words, the rest of the company nodded in silence.

Even with the actual performance only two weeks away, Maya and her company had steeled their hearts and chosen to start again from scratch. That stubborn determination surprised Bond, and even Moran and the rest.

“U—Um…… Mr Bond, I actually have something I wish to discuss with you……”

Out of the blue, Maya’s voice had grown soft.

“U—Um, if it is alright with you, just for the next two weeks, could you sit in during our rehearsals? A—Ah, actually, just whenever you have the time would be fine……”

Bond chuckled.

Even after being told about all those problems, they refused to stand down, and even continued to ask for help. Their mental fortitude sparked hope in him, and he couldn’t help but let out a grin.

Bond shot the party in the stalls a questioning look. Moran looked to Jack and Fred in turn, before giving him a thumbs-up.

With that, the former flames of passion within Bond burned even hotter. He faced the company members with a determined grin.

“——Okay. But I will be especially tough on you all, so be prepared.”

Then, he called out to Fred.

“Fred-kun. I would like your help as well — is that alright with you?”

“Understood,” he replied, standing up.

“Bond, I’m always happy to teach knife-wielding.”

“And you can always ask me about gun handling.”

“Now that would be helpful,” Bond smiled at Jack and Moran’s jests, then turned back to the stage.

“Well then, everyone — for the next two weeks, let’s do our best together.”

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“During a performance, you must be always be aware of three things: the audience, the other actors, and yourself. If the feeling of being ‘watched’ becomes too strong for you, first direct your attention within yourself. Then, you will be able to focus on your acting once again.”

“I don’t advocate the idea of getting into a role. In the end, acting is just a skill: what you should focus on instead is how you are moving.”

“Although an effective way of bringing out emotions is to dredge up your past memories, I would advise you to avoid that. Recent memories are too concrete and vivid — if you must do so, use memories from your distant past. And be careful: if you frequently immerse yourself in negative emotions, you will hurt yourself on a spiritual level too.”

In a small theatre in Whitechapel, Bond’s instructions came forth ceaselessly.

He stood on stage together with the company members: carefully reviewing their movements, even acting them out himself as an example on occasion, and putting in every effort to raise the level of their production.

The remaining two weeks were short, but with their foundations already strong to begin with, Maya and her company steadily honed their acting skills to perfection.

One week left until the show. His work as an instructor had finally ended for the day, and he let out a sigh as he sat in the stalls to catch his breath.

“Good work today — fancy a sip?”

Having watched the proceedings from the stalls, Moran handed him a bottle of water. It was a beer bottle — very Moran-like — and Bond accepted it with a smile.

“Thanks, Moran-kun.”

Bond gulped down a single mouthful of water.

“So, how’s the play going?”

“At first I thought we would be hard-pressed for time, but they truly exceeded my expectations. I think we might just make it. ……Scratch that, we will make it.”

Moran nodded.

“That’s right. And they seem to be well-liked by the residents around here. I really hope they can pull it off.”

As Moran gazed off into the distance, a thought just occurred to Bond. He cocked his head.

“Come to think of it, you really didn’t have to tag along with me all this time, you know?”

Ever since the day Bond had agreed to lend his support to the company, his other colleagues had stopped over from time to time to cheer him on. However, Moran had made it a point to come to the theatre every day without fail.

Moran scratched his cheek in embarrassment. 

“……Well, it’s not like I have anything else to do when there aren’t any missions. As a senior member of this organisation, I’m just here to see how my junior works.”

“Even though you’ve been skipping out on chores at the mansion?”

“D—Dammit, I told you before: I always do my share of the work, you know.”

Bond had said that half-jokingly, but his words flustered Moran nevertheless. It seemed he had not been entirely wrong about that.

Bond returned his gaze to the stage.

“……Thank you, Moran-kun,” he said quietly.

“Hmm? Didn’t you already say that earlier?”

“This one means something different,” he said, with a hint of mischief in his voice. Moran raised an eyebrow in bemusement, but the presence of a caring senior alone warmed Bond’s heart.

Just then, they heard the sound of the theatre doors opening.

As the two men turned to look, they saw a portly middle-aged man with a magnificent moustache standing at the entrance.

Maya hurriedly bowed in his direction. “T—Thank you so much for your help thus far! What brings you all the way here?”

From her formal manner, it seemed this was the very noble who had asked them to stage the opening act for his theatre.

“Ah, you’ve been working hard, I see,” he said as he stroked his moustache, a big smile on his face.

“Yes; with your assistance, we’ve been able to prepare for the performance in time. I’m sure the audience will be satisfied with——”

“Well, about that.”

The man interrupted Maya, still all smiles.

“——Your performance has been cancelled.”

“What?”

No one could believe their ears.

Her expression brimmed with confusion.

“U-Um, what do you mean……?”

“What does it mean? Just pretend our conversation back then didn’t happen. That’s all.”

The man made another simple pronouncement, then smiled as if nothing was wrong.

“Honestly, it’s just as well that this has happened, since I’ve also been troubled over your debut. So what I’m saying is, your company doesn’t have to turn up. That’s alright with you, isn’t it?”

The entire company was still in a state of shock. Then, Bond addressed the man directly.

“Now hold on just a moment. What do you mean, you were troubled? Then why did you ask them to perform? What’s more, isn’t it a little late to cancel the performance at this juncture?”

Hearing that, the man sighed in displeasure.

“Who are you, anyway? Someone connected to this company? I’m not happy to be asked so many questions at once.”

“Then I’ll summarise it for you. If you were going to cancel the performance so easily, why bother requesting Maya and her company to perform anyway?”

At Bond’s question, the nobleman shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, that’s simple. I just felt like it.”

“……What?”

Those shocking words froze him to the core.

“I’d heard about a reputable theatre company in the slums. Since there’s this notion of noblesse oblige anyway, I thought a performance would be a good topic for conversation and approached them. But then I grew to realise that the thought of poor people stepping onto the sacred stage of an official theatre just didn’t sit well with me. So yesterday, I finally decided to put an end to this madness.”

“How could you……”

He had asked Maya’s company to perform on a whim, and then cancelled their act on a selfish whim as well. And this was all decided just ‘yesterday’. Even though they had been putting in every effort into their play.

The nobleman continued.

“That’s all I had to say. You poor folk are living off the graces of the nobility, so be grateful that I even bothered to come all this way to talk to you. Now that I’m finished here, I’ll be leaving. The smell here is simply an assault on my senses.”

Right before he walked out, the man spat out one last line.

“Well, at least you all had a nice dream, didn’t you?”

“………!”

A violent rage surged within Bond. Somehow, he managed to grit his teeth and hold himself back. If he were to retaliate right now, he would be inviting unnecessary reprisal on Maya and her company rather than himself. So all he could do was look daggers at the nobleman’s back as he left.

The theatre was enveloped in a mournful silence. Everyone seemed to have lost their verve, and no one uttered a word. Bond was shaking with frustration.

Amidst the heavy atmosphere, just one man — Moran — gazed upon the situation with composure.

Finally, Maya, the chairwoman, mumbled in a thin voice.

“Um, I’m so sorry. I think, I’m not feeling too well……”

Then, with a hollow expression, she headed to the dressing room, her footsteps shaky.

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games

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imagine-darksiders · 3 years

Note

Hey there, I’m not sure if you still take requests or anything but agh, I’ve been going through a really rough depressive episode since Christmas and your blog brings me such joy. I was wondering if you’d be kind enough to write something about War saving reader from demons or something along those lines? Or even just something fluffy? No pressure of course, if you’re not up to it that’s fine :)

Sorry this took so long, hope you’re doing a bit better now, though if not, maybe this will at least cheer you up for a few minutes <3 <3

War X Reader.

---

When you ran into the formidable Red Rider in the ruined streets of your old home city, you knew without a doubt that you were gaping up at a veritable force of nature, rather than a man.

War turned out to be everything the name suggests.

Physically, he's enormous - taller than you by at least a few heads and broad as an ox, cloaked in red and covered from head to toe in weathered battle armour the colour of gun smoke. His pale face – half hidden by a crimson hood – seems to be etched with a permanent scowl that only ever shifts if he's snarling or unleashing a blood-curdling battle cry. Not once in all the time you've been travelling with him have you seen him crack a smile.

Although, you suppose, a Horseman of the Apocalypse might not have a reason to smile, nor an inclination to.

'Oh well,' you muse as you follow the gruff and stoic behemoth through the inner-city graveyard one foggy night, 'He's better company than the demons, at least.'

War certainly wouldn't have been your first choice of travelling companion, just as you're sure you aren't his. Yet, as circumstance dictates, if you want to stay alive, you'll just have to put up with his imposing presence and general lack of social graces.

All of a sudden, you're halted in your tracks when an enormous, metal gauntlet catches you roughly in the stomach, the fingers splayed wide against your shirt.

Slightly winded, you open your mouth and a wheeze shoots out. “What?” you choke, throwing War a nervous glance. He merely stands there in utter silence with his head turning on a slow and constant swivel whilst a pair of icy, blue eyes scan the graveyard, searching. After a few seconds, you swallow down a lump and hesitantly ask, “You see something, big guy?”

The Horseman's broad chest puffs out at the nickname, though you can't tell whether it swells from indignation or pride. However, instead of offering clarity, he reaches up with his free hand and tugs his sword – Chaoseater – from its place strapped to his back, and at the same time, he begins to push firmly at your belly, forcing you backwards. “H-hey!” you yelp, “What're you doing?!”

Before you can protest further, your spine hits something cold and solid and you whip your head over a shoulder to see that you've been unceremoniously herded up against a large, mould-caked headstone. Sending a quick, mental apology to the owner laying buried just below your feet, you crane your neck around War's bulk in an attempt to see the cemetery beyond him, only to have your vision promptly obscured by the appearance of familiar, billowing smoke. In another second, the mass of darkness has taken on a much more tangible form and you suddenly find that the minimal space where you're sandwiched between a Horseman and a headstone has been invaded by the Watcher.

“What's the hold up?” his wispy voice hisses in your ear and forces you to fight back a shudder at the chill his trailing, vaporous tail leaves when it brushes against your legs.

“Dunno,” you reply in a whisper, “I think War sees something.”

The Horseman in question lets out a low grunt. “Not see.. Smell,” he clarifies, which is as descriptive an explanation as he's inclined to give, apparently.

Scoffing, the Watcher mutters, “All I can smell is this rancid human standing next to me...”

“If you don't want to smell me, then why are you hovering so close,” you shoot back, swatting at the wisps of smoke that escape from the top of his head until he draws back to a less suffocating distance. Still, with your curiosity peaked at War's strange admission, you tilt your head back and sniff idly at the air. “It just smells... earthy? Uh, and kind of sweet, I guess, like-”

“- death...” the Nephilim finishes.

You fall silent for a couple of seconds, using the time to share a bemused glance with the Watcher. “A graveyard that smells like death, huh?” you smirk, noticing that all six of the sprite's eyes are now glimmering with amusement,“Wonders will never cease.”

While he may be far from a fan, the Watcher still takes great delight in seeing you poke fun at War, and of course, he can hardly resist jumping in with a jab of his own. “Next, he'll complain that a forest smells of wood,” he sneers.

You're not quite fast enough to bite back a laugh as it bursts out of your throat.

“Quiet.” War's growl causes your mouth to snap shut and the Watcher bristles irritably, preparing to remind the Horseman of his place when the blood red hood twists to one side and you briefly catch a glimpse of War's striking, blue eye. He doesn't look angry at you though, or at least, no angrier than usual. Instead, if you didn't know any better, you'd swear you can detect the barest sliver of confusion as the Horseman peers down at you and asks, “Do you hear that?”

Furrowing your brows, you cock your head and listen intently to the eerie ambiance of the graveyard.

To begin with, there's nothing especially out of the ordinary, only the creaking of rusty hinges as the wrought-iron gates swing to and fro in a gentle breeze and the skittering of leaves against the cobblestone path somewhere nearby, or the soft 'ssshk,' 'ssshk,' 'ssshk,' that breaks up the monotony of near-silence -....

“Wait a second,” you murmur, holding a finger up and going completely still, straining your ears to hear the shifting, shucking sound coming from somewhere very close by. So close, you can feel the vibrations through your.... feet?

The Horseman locks eyes with you and all at once, your heart plummets into your shoes when, at the exact same time as War and the Watcher, you realise exactly where the bizarre sound is coming from and all three of you drop your gazes to the heaped dirt you've been standing on.

There isn't even a split second to react before a cold, clammy hand suddenly shoots out of the loose soil below you and latches itself around your ankle, gripping with a supernatural strength that causes your bones to grind painfully together. Although you know that screaming is the absolute last thing you ought to do in the middle of a demon-infested city, the unexpectedness of being grabbed it sends a bloodcurdling shriek jumping up your neck and out of your mouth, drowning the graveyard in a noise like an especially shrill dinner bell.

Sensing the impending battle, the Watcher swiftly disappears back into War's gauntlet as the Nephilim lunges towards you and curls his fist into the front of your shirt, wrenching you towards his chest without thinking too hard on the consequences of doing so. The motion does rip you free of the sinewy hand that flails in the air afterwards in search of its lost victim, but in doing so, long strips of your skin are left behind, embedded underneath the vicious claws of whatever had a hold of your ankle.

Gritting your teeth against the sting, you spin about, feeling your back hit the Horseman's sturdy chest and he keeps you tucked under him for a moment, his lips curling into a snarl as the two of you stare down at the emerging arm that braces itself against the soil. Then, in a fashion hideously similar to that of those old zombie movies you used to watch, the earth begins to rise as the monstrosity buried beneath it heaves itself up and out of its premature grave.

The sweet stench of rot hits your nose full force now, but you hardly even register it, too busy gaping at a grinning skull that emerges from the tumbling dirt, its empty eye sockets and parting jaw filled with soil and worms, all of which are flung in every direction when the living skeleton wrenches the rest of its body onto solid land.

Your startled yelp is swallowed as War promptly tries to swing you behind him, letting go of your arm in the process and inadvertently sending you crashing to the ground at his heels. Not that you can complain about the rough treatment however, for not a second later, the skeleton throws itself at him and lets out a shriek of outrage that cuts through you as sharp as any knife.

The Horseman, apparently having recovered from the unexpected attack, simply lifts his gauntlet and engulfs the monstrosity's skull when it leaps within range. In a rather anticlimactic turn of events, the skeleton's assault is cut short and now it resorts to scrabbling furiously at War's metallic fingers. You forget that for a man as large as he is, the Nephilim can move extraordinarily fast.

However, before you can marvel for much longer at War's impressive catch, you stiffen, splaying your fingers over the ground underneath you and twisting your head around to watch a few, nearby pebbles skitter up and down in place.

“U-um, War?” you gulp, now painfully aware of a continuous and thunderous rumble coming from deep under the earth, as though an enormous train is careening along on its tracks somewhere far below you.

At the sound of your timid voice, the Horseman spares a glance over his shoulder and sees you sprawled out on the ground, your attention turned to the graves lining an iron fence several metres behind him. Casting the skeleton dangling from his fist a last, fearsome grunt, War flexes his gauntlet. There's a sickening 'crack!' and the creature's flailing limbs fall perturbingly still. He tosses it dismissively to one side and you hear the clatter of broken bones hit the stone nearby as the Horseman turns fully and blinks down at you, his eyes going immediately to the bloody welts left in your ankle.

Sensing his gaze, you whip your head about and almost gasp at the wrathful expression he's subjecting your injury to. One side of the Nephilim's mouth and nose scrunches up until he's giving you a very uninterrupted view of his gleaming teeth and you find yourself swallowing loudly, your heart throwing itself against your ribcage so violently, you'll hardly be surprised if it manages to break out of its bony prison. Your eyes fly nervously to War's hand as he forces it out of the tight fist it had curled into, regarding him closely when he raises it, draws back in hesitation for a moment before at last reaching down towards you.

He doesn't manage to get far though, because just then, the rumbling you'd been feeling reaches a crescendo and there's a sudden cacophony of howls and bellows all around you, filling every corner of the dark graveyard like a terrible orchestra playing its funeral march.

War tears his eyes off you and raises his head, leering hard at another skeleton that bursts out of its tomb, though it’s soon followed by a second, then a third, and after that, you stop counting because the knowledge of how many undead are suddenly surrounding you makes you feel queasy and light-headed.

A veritable plethora of skeletal monsters, each varying in shape and size, turn their skulls in your direction, their hateful, burning glares washing over you with the force of a tidal wave and you wonder if you're the object of their ire because they're envious of your life, or hungry for your flesh.

Regardless, neither leads to a favourable outcome for you.

You're almost embarrassed at the sob that manages to push out from between your tightly closed lips, but staring into the faces of creatures you know had once been human is a little more than you're equipped to handle.

Behind you, War's immense shoulders bristle when he realises that the majority of skeletons have their sights set undeniably on the vulnerable human sitting near his boots. In response to the clear threat, something angry rushes to curl itself around the Horseman's heart. At the very epicentre of his swirling rage, he becomes aware of only one thing. Those skeletons are standing between his charge and safety – and that, War will not permit.

Like a murderous river eddying around a fern, the Nephilim steps out in front of you and plants his feet firmly on the ground, an immovable barrier of flesh and metal standing protectively between you and the salivating undead.

Once again, you find yourself with a grave at your back and the Horseman to your front.

Then, all of a sudden, something changes.

Still subjecting the skeletons to his loathing glare, War falls back a few steps, moving himself around and to your rear where he proceeds to crouch over you, his chest pressing uncomfortably against the top of your head until you get the message and bend forwards as well, twisting your neck about to shoot him a wary glance but finding his eyes are still trained on the circle of creatures surrounding you. He plants one hand into the soil, digging in with the clawed tips of his gauntlet whilst with the other, he raises Chaoseater high above your heads where it lingers, poised and waiting - for what however, you have no idea.

As the bloodthirsty blade begins to hum in anticipation, you try to twist your neck around to peer up at War, hoping that your horrified expression accurately conveys the question you want to ask. 'What the Hell are you doing!?'

He doesn't look back at you.

With the skeletons prowling towards you like a pack of circling, salivating dogs, he can’t afford to lose focus.

You're not ashamed to say you let out a hoarse cry when, without warning, they all charge as one.

The skeletons are just a few feet from being right on top of you but as they close in, one of your hands flies up to cover your face and in the same moment, War suddenly brings Chaoseater down hard, plunging the blade's tip into the ground mere inches from your toes.

No sooner has it breached surface soil than a dozen more blades burst up from within the earth, each resembling the Horseman's treasured sword.

The skeletons don't stand a chance.

Like a shockwave, the ethereal blades that have been conjured from seemingly nowhere continue to erupt out of the ground and take the charging undead by surprise.

Femurs, rib cages and tibias are obliterated in less than a second, skulls are thrust from the ends of spines as Chaoseater's earth-bound friends impale the skeletons from below, a place where they never would have guessed an attack could come from.

You can feel the heat of the blades closest to you, hot enough to singe some of the hairs off your legs, no doubt.

Then, just as soon as they appeared, they begin to retract back inside the earth, and when the dust settles and you lower your arm to look, all that's left is a scattering of bones, strewn about the vicinity. Blank, featureless skulls stare back up at you through unseeing eyes, dead – for what you really hope is the last time.

“Ho-lee crap,” you breathe shakily, flopping back onto your elbows and knocking your head against the underside of War's chest, adding, “Ow,” at the latter.

“You're hurt...” The rumble of the Horseman's voice rolls gently over you, prompting you to glance up, only to find a pair of bright, blue eyes blinking back down at you.

Lifting a hand, you rub absently at the spot where you'd bumped your skull into his armour. “I'm all right, that didn't actually hurt.”

“No,” he insists in a growl and roves his gaze down to the scratches on your ankle. You follow his glare, blanching at the sight of the gouges left behind in your skin and grimace, bracing your hands on the ground in an attempt to pick yourself up. You hardly manage to get one foot underneath you before a large, metal hand promptly grabs the back of your shirt and lifts you effortlessly into the air. “Hey!” you squirm, trying to stretch your toes to find purchase on the ground, “Put me down, War. I can stand up by myself!.”

The Horseman makes a skeptical sound at the back of his throat, but he does lower you – albeit hesitantly – until your shoes meet the dirt once more.

Any confidence in the strength of your legs is short-lived however the moment his hand withdraws.

You take a step, only to find yourself immediately punished for the action when a white-hot bolt of pain lances up from your ankle and you cry out, teetering sideways and trying to hop desperately for a few seconds on your good leg.

Just then, there's a deep sigh of exasperation and War's gauntlet is at your side in the next second, sliding around your waist and nudging you upright again.

“Here, sit down. Let me see it,” he murmurs, and you hesitate to say he's gentle when he turns you around and attempts to guide you to the ground once more.

“Are you sure it's a good idea to stop?” you ask, leaning out of his grasp to glance around the shadowy cemetery, “I mean, that wasn't exactly a quiet fight...”

The implication hangs in the air between you and after a moment, War draws his head up and blinks, the strategist in him concurring with you. “That is... a fair point,” he mumbles and if you weren't so grateful to him for keeping you alive, you'd be insulted that he sounds surprised by your common sense.

In keeping with the typical, straight-forward bluntness you've come to expect from him, War wastes no time in bending down and extending his arms, aiming to scoop you off your feet. “Come,” he declares, “I shall carry you to Ulthane. He will know best how to treat a human's wound.”

The Horseman’s permanent frowns deepens though, when you hop away from him on your good leg, splaying your hands out to stop him from proceeding. Undeterred however, he gives you a warning glower and huffs, “Keep still.”

“W-woah, hold on now,” you protest, stumbling back as he once again tries to reach for you, “Seriously, War, thank you. But I can walk, I'm not a baby who needs to be carried!”

“You are injured.”

His tone implies that he's angry, but the way he's now staring at your leg makes you consider whether he's angry at you, or something else entirely. “Wait, what if... what if you need to use your sword?” you point out, “You won't be able to if your arms are full of me.”

You can tell that he's far from happy, but he tilts his head, pondering you for a moment longer before huffing brusquely and averting his fiery gaze. “Very well,” he grumbles, adding, “But if you fall again, don't expect me to catch you.”

The Horseman's acquiescence, if nothing else, at least reassures you that you won't be a total liability. Satisfied for the time being, you nod and turn about, starting to hobble off towards the cemetery gates, confident that the enormous Nephilim will overtake you in a few, steady strides. You make it all of five steps before your ankle turns to jelly and seems to lose all of its bone structure, collapsing out from under you and as you topple sideways once again, arms flailing, you idly wonder whether the damage is only skin-deep.

Luckily, whatever jarring impact you might have made with the stone path is prevented by a strong set of arms that emerge like a pair of safety nets and sweep underneath your knees and shoulders, letting you fall harmlessly into a secure hold. Gasping, you tip your head back and sheepishly risk a glance at the Horseman, meeting his disapproving frown. At the sight of it, you try and push against his broad chest to put some distance between yourself and his ire, but he soon silences you with a throaty growl that reverberates through your head.

Pursing your lips, you reluctantly give up on your meagre effort of trying to escape the warrior and instead let yourself flop gracelessly in his hold. “Hmph.. I thought you said not to expect you to ca-” War whips his head down to glare at you so fast, you instantly allow your mouth to click shut and decide – perhaps wisely - not to finish that sentence.

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blackvelvetwriteson · 4 years

Text

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐘: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏

( ~ Sero Hanta x Gender Neutral Reader Insert ~ )

GENRE: Smut || NSFW

FANDOM: Boku No Hero Academia (My Hero Academia)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: SMUT! Oral (Sero receiving; Reader-Chan giving), face fucking, mention of asphyxiation, dacryphilia, brief talks of bondage, humiliation, and slight voyeurism.

SUMMARY: Sero Hanta is your CEO of Intelligence Distribution (pretty much) and Reader-Chan (you) are his secretary. He catches you lusting after him and decides he needs to punish you for it.

Author’s Note: HEY! I tried to implement the headcanon that Sero is hispanic because it’s a very common one and one of my FAVORITE HCs for our underrated baby Sero, so I added in some spanish as well. While I’m hispanic descent, I’m not fluent in spanish so I sort of went off of translations from friends and what I learned for myself from family. Also, my device is absolute shit at picking up accent marks so if there are some tildes on some n’s and not others, I REALLY apologize! Thank you!

WORD COUNT: 3323

(Headers are mine, but the art inside of them are not! Please don’t steal or repost without credit!)

He was fairly laid back as the CEO of Business and Intelligence. Since he didn’t necessarily have a quirk that anybody’d want in battle, he still took on hero work, but his main job was climbing the top of the food chain in Intel and informational trading and that’s exactly what he did. He was the biggest name of the company both for being fairly charismatic but also being a fair leader and his hero work on the field particularly in search and rescue missions. He had a bit of a twang when he got mad, but he rarely got mad so nobody ever really heard it. There was really no doubt about it that he was attractive; he was hella attractive at that. Especially in his trademark black suit with sleek shoes that was all brought together by the golden trimmings found throughout his outfit. He had a smile that could kill, very keen dark brown eyes, his soft hair often slicked back against his head— and word around the building was that he was considering an undercut style. He also had piercings, however he only wore his outer lobe bands when he wasn’t on duty, and he was complete with a tattoo of roses that rose up his neck just a little and was a sort of bicep sleeve. There was really no doubt that he was the best, and he knew it too even if he chose to stay humble.

And him being humble- paired with his amazing good looks- is exactly what you loved about him. He was literally perfect to you. There was only one issue; he hadn’t really noticed you until recent years.

Let’s take it back for a little, shall we?

The two of you had been in the same class for awhile; since elementary school at least. You were always in his class and he watched him grow up right before your eyes. There wasn’t a time in your life that you hadn’t loved him in all honesty. The way that he was always so selfless, the way that he was intelligent, and quiet, and oh so handsome at all times. You’d been friends for a year and then you both fell off to acquaintances and then eventually your contact had diminished. You’d even went to UA together and that was the first time you’d been separated. While he got into Class 1A, you were stuck in General Studies and befriended by both Kaminari and Kirishima who often made their special appearances in the complex. It was through them that Sero rediscovered you and even when he asked for your name and it broke your heart, he bought a small bracelet the next day to sort of apologize. You often have lunch with him and the group, linger back after meetings, and even exchange short texts. You both worked on projects with each other all of the time and whenever business leave was scheduled, it was you who went with him.

That’s exactly how you worked your way into being Sero’s secretary. And you’d started to regret it.

Now, it wasn’t that he was bad to you or anything, actually it was quite the opposite. He was way too good to you, and sometimes you felt as if this was a joke or some sort of dream. You had to see that magnetic smile every single day directed at other people instead of you, you had to listen to him flirt sometimes to get his way, embracing others in those strong arms of his, sit in on presentations in which he makes eye contact with the others just a little longer than yours. You were jealous, and there’s really no denying it, and anybody that didn’t have smoke in their eyes could see it too. Even when he was just sitting there doing work you couldn’t help but to waste away your minutes, hours, days- any amount of time before you were caught- to just stare at him and muse over him.

Of course today was no different, your thighs pressed together as you nibble on your lip, your face and the tips of your ears practically on fire as you let your mind wander. You wondered how it’d feel if you were his, his meaty fingers shoved in your mouth as he pulled you closer and made you his, or if you heard him say “I love you” in that smoky tone of his, or if you were allowed so close to him that the sweet scent of his cologne overwhelmed you. You thought about what’d it’d be like to tangle your fingers with his hair and straddle his lap, grinding on top of him in his office chair, or if you unbuttoned his shirt and got to marvel at that tattoo of his. You hadn’t caught yourself whimpering as you grinded into your seat, trying to squeeze your thighs together more to get more friction, your eyes glistening as you drooled and bit at the end of your pen. He was watching, and so was Kirishima and Kaminari. The two visitors looked at each other with wide eyes and Kaminari had tried to get your attention by snapping and whistling a little, waiting until Sero was looking away to toss a pen in your direction but it was no luck. Sero’s face carried a bit of a blush to it, Kirishima and Kaminari actually worried about you and how Sero would react.

“Please touch me there,” you whisper out to your fantasy as you gripped the desk and rutted into your chair a little more, a soft squeak leaving you as you slap a hand over your mouth. Your whole body trembled as you practically came in your seat, one hand trailing over your sex from over the clothes, pressing and pulling, your eyes tearing up practically as your fantasy was about to come to a close. You whine softly and it happens finally. You cum and your back arches as you let out a soft moan into your hand, moaning out your boss’s name, setting your head down trying to bring yourself down from your high afterwards without noticing how much attraction you’d drawn to yourself as you quivered in your seat.

“Escucha, por favor,” Sero said quietly dismissing both Kirishima and Kaminari and they quickly left the area while Sero walked over to your desk and gently tapped it with his fingers. “Y/N. A word please,” he said in the most respectful of tones, his eyes though fiery were calm even despite you relieving yourself in front of guests. You look up and him and your mind’s haze instantly clear and within seconds you were on your feet, your cum running down your leg as you whine softly. His strong hand takes your wrist and he practically drags you into his office, closing the blinds and closing his door, pushing you flush into the door after it was closed. You heard his heart beating in his chest as his cool breath hit your ear, his hands on the door beside your waist as he reprimanded you, and of course you forgot entirely to tell him about Kaminari and Kirishima’s presentation that was supposed to happen in 10 odd minutes. You were too dazed to even think too hard about it as you felt Sero’s warmth against you. You looked down and then up again to meet his gaze, his stern gaze meeting your eyes, his eyebrows knit, his breath even and shallow.

“You know you’re the top worker in this… Esteemed company, right, Y/N?” He spoke softly with a sharp edge to it as his eyes narrowed out a little. “The way that I’m berating you,” he said as he looked down at your legs pressing together trying to stand upright. “This isn’t a punishment for you, is it,” he said softly as he tilted your head up, biting his lip as he shook his head a little. “Since you like to be… Humiliated.. Talked down to like this… I’ll give you a treat then, hm?” He let go of your hand and he walked over to his chair, sitting in it with a soft groan, his eyes closing as he leaned back completely. He remained like this for a few minutes before he looked over at you.

“Is my schedule cleared for the day, carino,” he asked with a sweet smile, his voice husky and low as he looked you over. As you observed, you noticed his bulge growing against his tight slacks, but he still kept that sweet innocent smile as he looked you over with a pretty glint in those dark eyes of his.

“U-Um… W-Well Ei and K-Kaminari have a p-presentation for you in about… T-Ten or so minutes,” you stutter out as you play with the fabric of your pants. He raised his eyebrow and let out a soft groan before closing his eyes again, his hands folded neatly over his stomach as he shook his head slowly.

“So you’ve known about this presentation… And you wait until 10 odd minutes beforehand to tell me about it? How unprofessional of my little secretary,” he said, a hint of mock disappointment in his voice. You looked at him wide-eyed and before you could even speak, he held his hand up and he smirked a little with a soft breathy condescending laugh. “Since you were so lusty for me at your desk just a few… Short moments ago, I reckon you won’t have an issue with praising me until your friends come in to give me their presentation,” he drawled out in that voice of his with a shudder running down his spine. As If you were in a trance, you walked over to him and were on your knees in less than a minute, his eyes opening halfway to lazily look down at you, a soft smirk carrying his lips as he gazed at you unbuckling his belt, just the sound of the metal clinking against each other making him harder. Then, your skilled fingers worked at his button and the zipper until you were gazing at your clothed prize. You watched his bulge twitch in his pants before you reached for his cock and he swiftly took your chin in his hands and looked up at you, zipping his pants up with his free hand.

“Ay corazón,” he said softly as he stroked your jawline with his thumb. “There’s no need to move so fast,” he whispered softly. “Don’t make me use my tape on you,” he said with another condescending chuckle melting in your ears. You whine quietly and nod as you gently kiss against his bulge with your hands behind your back, your teeth gently nipping at the cloth over the prize you wanted so badly. He leaned his head back and a soft moan left his lips as he spread his legs even more for you, his eyes rolling back lazily in his head. “Joder que se sienta tan bien (fuck, that feels so good),” he moaned out in a quiet whisper under his breath as he felt precum leaking from his tip as he whined quietly. “With your teeth,” he breathed out softly as his chest started to heave and fall, his eyes pressed closed. “U-Unzip my pants with your teeth,” he moaned out softly with a soft shuddery groan, one of his hands moving to your head, pressing your face against his bulge, his hips trembling as he fought back the urge not to buck his hips into your face. You continue to kiss and nibble against his bulge, practically drooling over his pants with a soft groan.

You gently make it to the zipper of his pants and the sound of your teeth hitting the metal making him shudder in his seat. You try to pull the zipper down and it slides out of your mouth and then you try again, your face pressing into his bulge making him jolt and tilt his head back, you whining quietly as the zipper slipped out of your mouth again.

“Está bien, mi amor. Lo estás haciendo muy bien (It's okay my love. You're doing just fine),” he breathed out shakily as he pet the back of your head and pulled you into him more. “Just try again,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay, there’s no rush,” he said quietly as you took the zipper in your mouth again and you wait for a moment with glassy eyes. “Wait,” he said softly. “Go slow,” he said softly as you slowly pulled the zipper down with your teeth. “That’s right, carino,” he whispered quietly as he felt his cock’s restraints loosening, one of his legs trembling a little as he ached his back some. “F-Fuck,” he whined softly as he closed his eyes and gently massaged the back of your head. “Baby,” he whined softly as you finally unzipped his pants all the way, his legs fighting being put together as he let out a low sharp breath. “No hands… Don’t use your hands,” he said softly as he moved his hand down in front of your face to pull his cock out of his slacks with a soft groan. “I gave you a little help,” he murmured quietly. “Now worship it,” he said softly as his tone grew more needy.

You did as instructed, your eyes looking up at him as he tilted his head back, your tongue taking small laps at the base of his cock. He trembled as he gently ran his hand behind your head, his hips gyrating slowly as you whine and kissed his balls. He whined and he trembled as he ran one of his hands over his collarbone and he shook his head slowly. “T-This is a m-much better I-investment of c-company t-time, carino,” he said softly as a louder moan left him, his eyes peering down at you as you took his balls in his mouth and massaged them with your tongue, his eyes fluttering and fighting to stay open as he whimpered softly. He tried not to get too loud because of the other work and activity going on in the complex.

“Oh, Dios mío (Oh my God),” he moaned out quietly as you licked and kissed your way to his tip glistening with precum, his eyes widening as you sucked his tip in your mouth, his legs trembling, his moan getting trapped in his throat as he pushed your head down on his cock. You started to gag a little and he felt your throat constricting around his cock again, his hand gripping at your hair as he forced his whole cock in your mouth, your eyes tearing up as you gagged, choked, and continued to moan around his cock, tears brimming your waterline though you tried to stop them from streaming down your cheeks.

“¡Oh Dios mío, oh Dios mío, oh Dios mío, joder, joder, joder! Chúpalo así... Dios, se siente tan bien (Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck! Suck it just like that- God it feels so good),” he moaned out loudly as he bucked his hips into your face trying to edge himself, but since it’d been so long since he was able to cum, he was already close, his body practically convulsing in his office chair as he moaned out and he lost control of his body and his volume, thrusting hard into your mouth as you whine out and rest your hands on his knees, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you whine out, not too choked to where you had to tap out, but choked enough to have you wheezing and sucking down his cock nicely, your fingers coming up to massage his balls as he tried not to cum, his hand still keeping you choked on his cock as the other scratched at his arm chair his moans and choked gasps filling the room louder.

“C-Cum-“ he choked out as he shook his head. “C-Cumming! I-I’m c-cumming,” he whined out, his abs clenching as he dealt hard thrusts into your mouth, his eyes wide as tears brimmed his eyes, his cock practically balls deep in your mouth as the door swung open, Kirishima and Kaminari standing in the doorway as Sero filled your mouth with his sticky seed, his eyes finally letting those sweet tears escape as you whined around the base of his cock, gagging and choking, wheezing as he trembled in his seat, Spanish praises and curses mixing what the moans that spilled from his mouth.

“C-Chúpalo así. ¡Me estoy corriendo! ¡Me estás haciendo correrte tan jodidamente duro! ¡Oh, D-Dios mío, lo e-estás haciendo tan j-jodidamente b-bien! ¡Estoy sacudiendo el carino, c-cógeme, cógeme! E-Eres mío, toda mío… ¡Propiedad de la c-compañío! (Suck it down just like that. I'm cumming! You're making me cum so fucking hard! Oh my god you're doing so fucking good! I-I'm shaking baby fuck me, fuck me! You're mine, all mine... C-Company property!)” He whined out as your mouth was filled with his cum, his body tensing up before he let your head go and he leaned against the office chair trying to come down from his intense high, his cheeks reddened and dampened with his tears of satisfaction, some of his hair that was slicked back now in his face as it should be, his toes curled, his fingers buried into the arm of the chair, his legs trembling as he bit his lip. You slowly take his cock from your mouth and into your hands, your eyes glazed over as you stared up at your boss with absolute love and adoration in your eyes, how rough but caring he was with you, how beautiful he looked in this moment, that sexy voice of his, how pretty he looked with his cheeks tear stained just like yours. He looked down at you, his breaths hollow and shaky as he gently took your chin in his strong slender hand, his thumb stroking your cheek and jawline as he sniffed and flashed that pretty smile at you.

“Open wide,” he whispered softly as he tilted his head a little. “Let papi see how much he filled that sweet mouth of yours,” he said softly in that deep voice of his. You did as told and opened your mouth, his cum mixed with your saliva painted your mouth white, the thick serum spilling out of your mouth and down your chin. He gently stuck his fingers in your mouth, scooped out a little cum, and sucked his fingers clean with a soft hum. Your eyes widened as you watched him, Kirishima and Kaminari’s faces red, jaws dropped, and eyes bugged as they stared at the scene before them. Sero knew they were there but he didn’t care, and you tried your hardest not to look at the two to spare yourself a little bit of the humiliation that you were already feeling.

“Good job,” Sero said with a sly smirk, not caring that cum was dripping down your face and into your lap, not caring that his cock was out for them to see, his eyes glistening with mischievous thoughts, his thumb gently smearing the cum and saliva over your lips. You whine softly and grab his wrist, then he lets out a small laugh as he blushes a little and licks his lip. “A promising future in the company you hold indeed,” he said before looking at your best friends and nodding at them. “Buenas tardes (good afternoon),” he said as he let your chin go as a devious smirk played at his lips. “I heard there was a presentation for me? Why don’t we get started, hm,” He said as he looked down at you and he furrowed his eyebrows a little. “As for you, cariño…. We aren’t done yet.”

#black velvet x bnha #Reader x bnha #bnha x you #ceo au #ceo life #ceo sero #sero x reader #bnha sero #sero hanta #sero lemon #sero x you #alterate universe x bnha #hanta sero x reader #hanta x reader #sero hanta smut

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