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themysteriousashe · 1 year

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your dirty little mind || cs55 and cl16

notes: this is my first threesome smut, and it is grammarly edited, so wording and/or flow might be weird. i was inspired by all the sweaty videos and pics of the two ferrari boys from the charity game on tuesday. additionally, i listened to charles jeffrey by ray laurel on repeat to write this.

warnings: smut, threesome, p in v sex, oral sex (male and female receiving) anal sex, penetrative sex, minors dni, 18+ only, grammarly edited

word count: 4.2k (just under, but rounded up)

The game was intense. First, Charles ate shit to try to make a goal, and Carlos was injured. The whole football match had you gnawing your bottom lip in nerves but also in anticipation. Watching the two men play and gradually become drenched in sweat did something to you. Maybe that something was remembering the nights the three of you spent together, bodies moving passionately and sweat glistening on various shades of skin. Your hands gripped the fabric of your linen pants, one foot tapping to release the energy building in your system.

The weather wasn’t hot, sitting at a pleasant 72 degrees Fahrenheit, but your body grew worked up during the match from anxiety and being turned on. You would curse mentally whenever you saw the boys wipe their faces with their shirts, revealing the chiseled abdomen hiding underneath. Carlos’s boxers peeking out from his shorts almost ruined you, your mind flickering to a time you took them off of him. They would catch your eye occasionally, shooting a smile your way. Each time, your cheeks heated up, and you shifted in your seat to get more comfortable.

As soon as the match ended, you followed the crowd filtering out of the game. As you patiently waited, your phone buzzed in your bag; the bag was close enough to your body that you felt your phone go off, and you immediately reached in, curious about who could have texted you. The message was from Charles, surprising you at how fast he could return to the locker room.

You smiled to yourself, knowing you were egging Charles on. You tucked your phone away, descending the steps to the line of cars waiting for people. You walked the line of vehicles, avoiding people standing on the sidewalk. Carlos demanded you have a driver since you were in Monaco, the city of luxury and allure. It was a fight you would never win, despite telling him how many times you didn’t need one. Charles hopped in, taking Carlos’s side. His selling point was the two couldn’t be seen with you before the race events; it needed to be after.

You begrudgingly accepted his reasoning, agreeing to the driver on the condition you wanted a ride in Charles’s Ferrari; once it was acceptable, you could be seen together without speculation arising on the internet. The driver was an older gentleman standing outside a black car with tinted windows. You greeted him, giving him Charles’s address. It was an apartment you visited what felt like a million times; it wasn’t foreign to you and was a familiar hook-up spot for the three of you if you all happened to be near. You got into the car, the driver closing the door behind you, and buckled up for the driver.

The ride to the apartment was quiet. To keep yourself occupied and at ease, despite your heart hammering in your chest at what was to come, you scrolled your phone, already seeing photos of Charles and Carlos in the match. You bit your lip, shamelessly rewatching the clips of Charles lifting his shirt and wiping his face with the jersey. When you were about to close Instagram, you were greeted by a post to Charles’s story. You tapped on it, a snort leaving your nose in amusement. You typed a quick message to him, saying, “Me fr,” knowing he’d get a kick out of it.

You loved how Charles could joke about his mistakes and watch the fans’ reactions. Watching the internet speculate about his personality filled you with pride because the both of you frequently sent each other stupid shit daily. So the internet wasn’t wrong when they claimed Charles was a meme lord.

The car pulled to the apartment, and you thanked the driver, undoing your seatbelt. You assured him he didn’t need to exit the vehicle, stating you could open the door yourself. He smiled at you in the rearview, and you returned the smile as you opened the car door. You stepped out, gazing up at the looming apartment building before you. Your lips quirked up in a smile as you pushed the door closed, stepping forward towards the entrance.

You typed in the code to his apartment as you had done many times before, a buzz and the click of the door unlocking signaling your access. You carefully opened the door, sliding through as thin of a crack as you could. You greeted the security with a nod and a smile, receiving one in return as you headed towards the elevator. You clicked the up arrow, pulled out your phone, and checked your notifications while waiting for it to come down. Once the doors opened, revealing an empty car, you stepped in and pressed the button to Charles’s floor, immediately pressing the button to close the doors quicker.

The elevator ascended, your heart pounding as to what was to come. Your phone was tucked in your bag, your eyes intently watching the numbers tick until a ding announced your arrival. The doors opened, and you stepped out, walking to Charles’s door. You knew it would be unlocked since the boys didn’t want you to mess with a key and prolong the fun. You opened the door, walked in, and closed it behind you. As soon as the door closed, a figure appeared before you and immediately smashed his lips on yours. His hands made their way to your body, gripping your waist while the other grabbed your back.

Immediately, your body reacted to the action, your arm falling and your hand tucking your bag off, letting it fall to the floor. You returned the kiss with the same fervor, hands flying into the dark strands. By feeling alone, you could tell it was Carlos, as he was a little bulkier than Charles. His tongue immediately parted your lips, and you moaned, letting him explore your mouth and teasing him with your tongue. He pressed you against the door, the hand on your back falling to your rear. He gripped your ass, pulling your flesh against his body. You could feel the slight presence of an erection pressing against your thigh through his jeans.

“Starting the fun without me?” Charles asked, leaning in his bedroom doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. You pulled away from Carlos, soft pants leaving both of you. His pupils were blown wide, pushing the beautiful brown to the edges. You looked over at Charles, smirking as you pulled away from Carlos. You began to head towards him, a pat on your bum from Carlos causing a jump in your step.

“Carlos was just saying hello, Leclerc. I do enjoy his greetings,” you teased, gently pushing Charles in the middle of his chest as you entered the bedroom. He chuckled, following Carlos in. You turned in the center of the room, the darkness from the large windows penetrated by the soft lighting of bedside lamps.

“Now you have me here,” you said, sticking your arms and hands out to the side of you before they dropped back down.

“Now you’re here,” Carlos responded, his eyes scanning you up and down. A flirty smirk was on his lips, and you smiled. Charles stepped forward, reaching out and taking one of your hands in his, tugging you into him.

“I think it’s my turn, mon chérie,” Charles purred, leaning down so his nose brushed against yours. You looked up at him through your lashes, lips parted and breath speeding up.

“Now it’s your turn,” you whispered, reaching up to clutch the opened button-up and t-shirt combination that Charles frequently wore. He leaned down and kissed you, not as rough as Carlos’s kiss. That was the difference between them: Carlos loved to devour, and Charles liked to savor. As Charles and you kissed, Carlos stepped forward, stepping behind you. He set a hand on your hip, using the other to move your hair to the other side. He began to leave kisses on your neck, starting below your ear.

You gently moaned into the kiss, tightening and untightening your grip on Charles’s button-up as Carlos kissed your neck and Charles’s licked your bottom lip, asking for entry to your mouth. You happily let him in, his hands slipping between the both of you to begin unbuttoning the linen shirt you wore. His fingers grazed the curves of your breasts as he continued down, causing your breath to hitch in the kiss. Once all the buttons were undone, you pulled your arms back from your shoulders, letting Carlos remove the top and drop it to the ground.

Once Carlos removed your shirt, he had better access to more skin. He kissed down your neck to your shoulder, nipping at the curve of skin between them. You shuddered, goosebumps forming on your skin. You pulled away from Charles’s kiss, panting softly as you looked at him. Your eyes remained locked with his bright green ones, pushing the button-up off his shoulders. He removed it, dropping it to the ground. Your hands went to the hem of his t-shirt, fingers sliding underneath to graze the chiseled skin of his abdomen. You gently scratched his skin with your nails, pushing the shirt up. He helped you remove the shirt, bare on his torso except for the necklace around his neck.

You turned around, Carlos’s lips breaking away from your skin. He smiled at you, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Charles traced your curves with his hands, pressing up behind you. You could feel his arousal behind you, teeth gently biting your lip as you undid the buttons on Carlos’s shirt. You held intense eye contact, your fingers moving in a familiar rhythm. Inch by inch, Carlos’s torso was revealed until there were no more buttons.

You tore your gaze away, ogling at the Spanish beauty before you. You touched his warm skin and danced your fingers along the curves. Charles hooked his fingers in the waistband of your linen pants, leaning forward to pepper kisses on your right shoulder. You reached up under the shoulders of Carlos’s shirt and pushed the fabric away. The shirt flowed off his arms, falling to the floor. He reached forward, cupping your cheek before kissing you, his lips revealing his hunger for you.

Charles’s kisses on your skin flowed down your back, his teeth nipping at your hips through your panties as he slid your pants down. He kneeled behind you once the material pooled at your feet, kissing upward. Instinctively, you stepped out of the clothing despite being occupied with Carlos, who massaged one of your breasts through your bra. Charles stood up to his complete form, kissing your shoulder once more as his hand swept across your skin to your panties.

Your eyes immediately flew open as soon as you felt Charles’s hand slip beneath the material of your panties and graze your clit, going to feel your wetness between your folds. The kiss was broken as a moan left your lips, your back arching into Charles. Carlos chuckled between his pants, swiping his thumb across his bottom lip. He attacked your neck with kisses, nipping and sucking at the skin.

You squirmed between the two men, reaching forward and gripping Carlos’s shoulder to help you stand upright. Charles had you on your toes as his fingers lazily circled your clit as if he was playing the piano. Moans bubbled in your throat, but you let out soft pants, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of hearing how they made you feel. Carlos was occupied with reaching behind you, fingers slowly undoing the hooks of your bra. His lips were focused on the skin of your breasts that peeked out from the fabric.

Carlos slipped your bra from your form, discarding it on the ground. He knelt, hands flying to your waist and fingertips digging into the skin. He kissed the curve of your breast before bringing his mouth around one of your nipples, causing you to moan loudly. Your free hand flew to his hair, gripping the dark strands as he teased you from the front and Charles teased you from behind.

You felt the heat and tension build up in your core, signaling your nearing orgasm. You didn’t want to be the first to come, not yet. However, your mind was too distracted and overstimulated by their ministrations to focus on anything but the pleasure they brought you. You opened your eyes, staring at the ceiling and trying to get your thoughts in order.

“Let’s take this to the bed,” you panted, feeling the two pause at your suggestion. You could feel Charles’s smile against your skin, the hot breath from his mouth causing a chill to run through you.

“I think that is a wonderful decision, wouldn’t you agree, mate?” Charles purred to Carlos, taking a step back from you. Carlos released himself from teasing your breasts with his mouth, sliding his hands to your ass as he stood up. He squeezed the flesh, a grin on his lips. Finally, he nodded at what Charles had to say, pulling away and stepping to the side, signaling with an outstretched arm to the bed.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you walked past Carlos. He nailed a good smack on your ass, causing you to yelp in surprise. Laughter filled the air as the two men chuckled at your reaction before you sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on your arms. You gazed at the two men, looking them up and down seductively.

“I think you both are wearing a little too much clothing. I can fix that for you,” you purred, bringing your hands down to your panties. You hooked your fingers beneath the waistband, pulling them down and off your legs. You dropped them to the floor, keeping your legs open as the two men stared at you as if you were a meal. Carlos’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips.

“Lei sarà la nostra morte, amico,” Carlos huffed in Italian to Charles. You laughed, understanding what the Spaniard said from the little bit of Italian the boys taught you here and there. Charles laughed, walking past Carlos and squeezing his shoulder in agreement. He stepped before you, reaching out and caressing your cheek before gripping your chin. You gazed up at him, giving him a gaze of submission but also tempted to suck his thumb between your lips.

“Will you do the honors, fille chérie?” Charles asked, bringing his thumb up to your lips. You nodded, gently nipping at the pad of his thumb before reaching forward. His hand fell to his side as you undid his belt, leaning forward to kiss his flesh softly. The strap hung undone, framing the button of his jeans. Your fingers slipped the button free, teeth nipping at his right hip. His breath hitched, chest rising and falling as you slowly pulled the zipper down. You reached in, purposefully grazing the obvious erection in his underwear before tugging the jeans down.

“Putain d'enfer,” Charles breathed, pulling away from you. Your hands brushed his thighs as he stepped away. You grinned at Charles, knowing you got underneath his skin. Carlos had watched with his arms crossed, amused as you spent time with Charles. As soon as Charles was yanking his jeans and underwear off, Carlos quickly undid his belt and jeans, soon bared before you.

“Fuck, I am the luckiest woman in the fucking world,” you breathed, toes curling and eyes almost rolling into the back of your head at the sight of the two naked men before you. You watched as they stepped around, Carlos lying horizontally across the bed. His head was slightly close to the edge. He looked at you, patting his chest.

“Come have a seat,” Carlos suggested, eyes beckoning you. You grinned, crawling over to him before straddling both sides of him with Charles’s assistance. He gave you a hand to position yourself over Carlos’s face, and you thanked him with a squeeze of his hand. Next, Carlos brought his hands to your thighs, caressing the skin. You shuddered, blinking your eyes repetitively a couple of times at the sensation.

Carlos pulled you down with no warning, tongue immediately delving within you. You cried out as his tongue circled your clit before attacking between your folds, lapping at your wetness. You reached forward, gripping Charles’s forearm. He waited for you to adjust, in awe at the sight of you.

“Ch-Charles, let me, please,” you pleaded, reaching forward with your free hand and wrapping it around his cock. The motion widened his eyes, but he stepped closer, cock level with your face. You looked up at him as your hand moved down toward the base, feeling the brush of his hair. Your gaze was innocent despite your lips wrapping around the tip of his cock and flicking your tongue out to run over the slit. He groaned, hands clutching your head at the base of your hair and fingers gently digging into your skull.

You closed your eyes, focusing on pleasing Charles with your mouth as Carlos pleased you with his. You took as much of Charles as possible, removing your hand from his forearm to grip the comforter beneath you. Your other hand stroked what couldn’t fit into your mouth, but you liked to focus more on the tip. You would bring Charles close to the back of your throat before pulling back, sucking and licking on the head.

As you teased Charles, Carlos moved to suck on your clit, slipping away one of his hands from your thigh and pressing a finger between your folds. You moaned on Charles’s cock, the sensation causing Charles to pull a breath through his teeth. Carlos gently brought his finger in and out of you, adding another. Your brows were furrowed in pleasure, Carlos’s actions causing you to stop sucking Charles’s cock. It still sat in your mouth as you moaned, soon pulling away from him. A strand of saliva followed your lips, soon breaking away.

Your eyes were squeezed soft, pants and moans leaving you. You opened your eyes, brows still furrowed as you looked at Charles. He leaned down, capturing your lips in his. He could taste himself on your tongue and lips, deepening the kiss to devour more. One of his hands clutched the base of your neck, fingers still tangled in your hair. You were brought closer and closer to the precipice of an orgasm, and you reached down, gently smacking Carlos’s shoulders as Charles kissed you. You pulled away, out of breath from Charles’s kiss.

“Carlos, please,” you begged, not wanting to cum on his mouth alone. You needed both of them. Now. Carlos slowed down, removing his fingers first before he pulled his mouth away from you. He licked his lips, patting your thighs to signal you could move. Charles helped you once again, gripping both of your hands to guide you off of Carlos and the bed.

Carlos sat up from the bed, soon standing up to move. His cock moved up and down as he walked to the end of the bed, your eyes watching him as Charles grabbed condoms from the nightstand. He pulled two out, ripping the serrations to separate the two. You glanced behind you at the sound, watching Charles walk over to Carlos and hand him one.

“Thanks, mate,” Carlos said quietly, accepting the condom. Both men ripped the packaging and slipped the condoms on.

“Come here, cariño,” Carlos said, shifting back from the end’s edge but still keeping his feet planted on the floor. You went to him, leaning down and kissing him as you planted a knee on each side of his body. He returned the kiss, one hand on your back, the other lining his cock up with your entrance. You reached down as well before sliding down on him. The kiss deepened as you allowed him to fill you to the hilt, his body taking the both of you back on the bed.

Charles watched the both of you, aroused by the scene and watching Carlos fill you with ease. He stepped between Carlos’s parted legs, touching your lower back. He caressed the flesh of your ass, causing you to pull away from Carlos’s kisses and watch Charles. He took himself in his left hand, shifting to level before slowly entering you from behind. Your eyes rolled back, toes curling, and cunt clenching around Carlos as Charles entered you.

Both men gave you a moment to adjust; the sensation wasn’t new, but it was always slightly alarming initially. Charles leaned forward to kiss your shoulder before straightening back, waiting for the cue. You nodded aggressively, eyes squeezed shut as you clutched Carlos’s shoulders. Carlos kissed your temple before both men moved together, Carlos thrusting up into you and Charles’s thrusts pushing you forward. You moaned, ready to come apart right there.

They were slow at first, continuing to let you adjust like the gentlemen they were. Then, when the only noise you made was panting, they changed their pace, their hips snapping against you. You moaned, back arching, which pushed you further into Carlos. Carlos’s hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your flesh that you knew would leave a mark behind. Charles’s grip was a little looser than Carlos’s on your waist but would still leave faint marks behind.

The pace they set quickly brought you closer and closer to an orgasm, the sensations of both pumping in and out of you overwhelming your body. Carlos thrust up, hips lifting off the bed, and a spot inside you that made you see stars. You gasped, clutching his bicep to the point your nails dug in. The sound of panting and your moans echoed throughout the room, all three bodies glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

“Fuck!” you cried out, soon feeling the tension in your core snap. You squeezed around Carlos, the tightening of your walls pulling him with you, causing his lips to stutter and his grip to tighten. Despite fucking you from behind, the tension of your orgasm was enough to bring Charles to his climax. He rode through his orgasm, slowing his pace until he stopped.

You fell on Carlos, not caring if your full weight was on him. Both of you were a panting, sweating mess. He removed a hand from your waist, running his fingers through his hair. He laid his head back, staring at the ceiling as he tried to get his breathing down to normal. Charles leaned over you, panting, but he kissed your spine. You hummed softly, weakly glancing back at Charles. Your eyes met, and he offered you a gentle smile, rubbing your back before he removed himself from you.

Charles walked to the ensuite bathroom, going to quickly clean up before he joined the both of you in bed. Carlos tilted his head up, stroking your back before gently patting your bum. You sighed, sitting up and letting him hold the condom before you removed yourself. Carlos leaned over, moving some hair that stuck to the sweat on your forehead. He gave it a gentle kiss, stroking your hair in the process.

Charles quickly returned, picking you up from the end of the bed. Carlos stood up and went to the bathroom, patting Charles on the shoulder. He carried you bridal style to his side of the bed, kneeling to place you in the middle before laying down next to you. You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling until Charles was beside you. Your head turned to meet his eyes, a soft smile on both faces. He stroked your hair, and you gently caressed his thigh and knee.

Carlos joined you both on the bed, wearing boxers he discarded on the ground. He lay on his side, close to you. You reached out to him as well, squeezing his forearm. He traced circles on your skin.

“Glad we got to fuck after we eye fucked each other during the match,” you said. Both men laughed, shaking their heads in amusement. You chatted idly about the match, making fun of Charles’s faceplant into the ground. After the teasing, Charles urged you to get cleaned up, which you did while throwing a small fit about it. You went into the bathroom, cleaned yourself up, and slipped on the panties you wore before. Charles stood next to his dresser, boxers on and a soft, folded t-shirt in his hands.

The t-shirt was extended to you, which you graciously accepted. You unfolded the material before slipping it on, following Charles to the bed that Carlos was still on. While you had cleaned up, Carlos slipped under the sheets, exhaustion from the day’s activities finally hitting him. You took your spot in the middle, Charles following you after. You snuggled up before fatigue and sleep took all three of you quickly.

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beskarandblasters · 5 months

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“Din”scord Kitten

Discord Kitten!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: I don’t fucking know anymore okay 😭 The Discord Kitten!Din edit is by @pedgito!! Shout out to my boyfriend for taking a mirror selfie in the Mando helmet for this 💀

Summary: When bounty hunting doesn’t work out anymore Din has to turn to alternative methods to support himself.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, this is a crack fic lmao, Discord/Venmo/Dr. Pepper existing in Star Wars, bad sexting, dick pics, masturbating, bad Star Wars puns, sex work, cummies needs its own warning 😭, pet names (cyar’ika), oral sex (M receiving), cum eating, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

“I’m sorry, Mando. I’m fresh out of jobs today.”

Kriff, that’s the third day in a row that there’s been absolutely no jobs, no bounties to go after, nothing.

How is he supposed to repair the Razor Crest’s engine? How is he supposed to fix the broken pipe in the refresher? How is he supposed to feed himself?

“Thanks anyway, I guess,” Din mumbles. He sighs. It’s not really Karga’s fault that things are slow lately. He must be suffering, too.

Din wracks his brain, trying to think of different ways to earn credits. But his mind is blank.

He could get a job…? But then he shoots that idea down pretty quickly. How funny would it be if he just walked into a place of business and asked for a job, all decked out in beskar? He can’t make or sell anything. He doesn’t have any skills. His skill is bounty hunting and that’s about it.

Just as he’s about to exit through the cantina door, he hears a voice whisper, “Hey, Mando.”

He looks to his right and sees a man, one he’s never seen around here before. The man motions for Din to come closer. He’s skeptical but Din knows when and where to keep his guard up so he follows.

The man is shorter than Din, with shifty eyes and greasy hair matted down on his forehead. Before Din can ask what he wants the man speaks first.

“I heard about your little problem just now.”

“It’s none of your business,” Din says, starting to turn and walk away.

“What if I had a solution for you?” he says, stopping Din in his tracks.

“What is it?”

“You ever heard of Discord?”

“…No.”

“Do you have a data-pad?”

“…Yeah.”

“Download the app Discord.”

“What is it?”

“Like a chat room. Trust me, there are so many lonely housewives who have too many credits lyin’ around. You chat them up, maybe show em a little something something, minus the face of course. And you’re golden. Just make sure you download Venmo so they can wire you the credits.”

It sounds nefarious, taking advantage of lonely, vulnerable people. But he needs to earn some credits. Or else he’ll never take a bounty again, never use the refresher again, and never eat again. Not dramatic at all.

“Okay… Thanks,” he says awkwardly, slowly inching his way out of the cantina. He power walks to the Razor Crest, anxious to boot up his data pad and download this Discord thingy. He’s not the best with social interactions to begin with but surely being behind a screen will help… right?

As soon as he’s settled in his bunk he pulls out his data-pad, searching up Discord and Venmo and downloading them both. Once he opens Discord, he’s prompted to pick out a username and password. And he spends a bit too long deciding what his username will be. But ultimately he goes with BountyMan1 because BountyMan just had to be taken already. For a password, he chooses… password. Not much thought was put into that one.

Ah kriff, he needs to choose an icon. There’s no way someone will want to chat up a blank circle. For this one, he’s going to need the mirror in the refresher. He holds up his data pad in the mirror, taking an extremely blurry photo. He looks at it and decides it’ll do before retreating to his bunk again.

And now… it’s time to flirt with some lonely women. He has his location service activated so the profiles he’s seeing are from people on Nevarro, some of the people he recognizes and knows. Who would’ve thought?

But to be safe, he chooses a different planet instead. He doesn’t need anyone recognizing him in the streets as that weirdo on Discord. So he sets his location as Tatooine just to be safe.

He decides to slide into the direct messages of three profiles to start, to get some practice in. He messages the users; TatooineBaby, SoMuchSand47, and JabbaTheSlut. Each of their icons is just a picture of them on Tatooine. JabbaTheSlut’s icon is a little risqué, showing a bit of cleavage. He tries to ignore the way his cock twitches in his flight suit.

He types out a simple “Hey ;)” and waits for a response. To his delight, JabbaTheSlut responds first, saying; “Hey there handsome,” which Din finds extremely funny given that she can’t see his face. Not even just because of the helmet, but also the blurry as shit photo he used.

SoMuchSand47 blocks him and his ego is bruised a bit. But he reassures himself that there will be a few losses in this line of business. TatooineBaby responds with a simple “Hello!”

It’s a small victory but he’ll take it. He got two out of three women to respond to him. And now he’s about to enter the next phase; chatting them up.

“Thanks, sexy,” he responds to JabbaTheSlut, internally cringing at himself a bit.

As JabbaTheSlut is typing, he responds to TatooineBaby, taking a different approach this time.

“How are you doing, beautiful?” he types, feeling a little less cringe about this interaction.

Soon enough, he’s engaged in conversations with them both. And he already finds it overwhelming to maintain two at the same time. Maker, how is he going to handle any more?

The conversations are fine, nothing too abnormal. JabbaTheSlut is more flirty than Tatooine Baby is. He thinks it’ll probably be easier to squeeze credits out of her than the other one. And that’s when JabbaTheSlut takes the conversation to a sexual turn.

“You packing? ;),” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Care to show me?”

“Not for free. How much would you pay for a dick pic from a Mandalorian?

Kriff, what if she ends it here? What if she tells him to piss off and then blocks him?

“Fifty credits. What’s your Venmo?”

He can’t believe his eyes. Kriff, he needs to set up his Venmo. He still hasn’t done that. He closes out of Discord to open Venmo, hastily making an account with the same username as Discord. He links his Venmo to his account at the InterGalactic Banking Clan. Cool, that’s all set now. He messages JabbaTheSlut back with his Venmo handle and now it’s time for the… dick pic.

He’s never done this before. Of course, he hasn’t. He barely knew how to work the holo-pad when he first bought it and honestly, he still doesn’t completely understand how to use it now. He pulls out his cock, stroking it enough just to get it hard but it’s not working. He’s feeling the pressure. He has to think about something else, something to get him hot and bothered. His mind immediately goes to this hot woman he saw at a cantina on Naboo once. She had long green hair and beautiful eyes. And when she spoke with Din at the bar she placed a hand on his bicep– he thought he was going to melt right there and then.

Okay, this is working now. He’s getting hard. Alright, time to take the picture. He grabs his cock and strokes towards the base, pulling his foreskin down. He can’t decide whether or not to take a picture with the flash on or off so he does one of each. But ultimately he decides to send her the one with flash.

He checks his Venmo and sees she sent him the fifty credits. He can’t believe someone actually paid for this. He sends her the picture and anxiously awaits her response.

“Damn. It’s big. Not that I expected any less from a Mandalorian ;),” she says.

Alright, this was enough activity for him for one evening. He needs to rest and try not to feel shame about what he just did. He checks on the conversation with TatooineBaby and she never responded. Oh well, a win is a win. Maybe he won’t be so bad at this after all.

When he wakes up the next morning, there’s a slew of messages. There are some from JabbaTheSlut but there are also some messages from new people entirely. He has messages from JediPussyTrick, BeMyNaboo, SorganSlut69, and WhoreForMandalore. They’re from planets all over the galaxy. He must’ve changed his location range by accident.

All of the messages are various generis horny messages, except for one. There’s one from WhoreForMandalore that’s not sexual in nature but rather curious instead. He looks at their icon, a beautiful woman. He swears the background of the picture is Nevarro but it’s hard to tell from how small it is.

“Are you a real Mandalorian?” WhoreForMandalore’s message says… your message says.

He chooses to respond to you first.

“I am.”

“Hot.”

“Nice username.”

“Thanks! Bit of an inside joke between me and my friends.”

“What kind of joke?”

“You could say I have a fetish for them I guess.”

“Oh??”

“Mask kink goes hard.”

“I see…” he replies. He doesn’t really know what to say next but he’s intrigued by you. In the meantime, he checks out his other messages. JabbaTheSlut is asking about pricing for other stuff this time… videos of him masturbating. He supposes he could, but he’ll have to charge more.

“A hundred credits,” he types.

“You got yourself a deal baby,” she responds. And within an instant, there’s a notification from his Venmo, one hundred credits. Alright, it's time to do the deed. It’s hard to get hard on demand but he’ll have to get used to it if this is the life he wants to live.

His mind wanders, going back and forth about what to think of to get himself hard. His mind settles on you and your Discord icon. He can’t quite put his finger on why. Your picture wasn’t a sexual one, just a normal photo of you smiling with the sun beaming down on you. But then he thinks about what you said… mask kink.

Kriff, that gets him hard. He’s stroking himself mindlessly before realizing he has to film this, hastily opening his camera and pressing record. It all happens so fast– his hand wrapped around his cock, his pre-cum leaking from the head of his cock, the soft moans and groans he’s letting out. Before he even realizes it, he’s coming ropes of cum, moaning and cursing under his breath. He stops the video and takes a second to process what just happened. That’s the fastest he’s ever came. And all he did was think about you and your mask kink…

He has to message you again.

He sends the video of him jerking off to JabbaTheSlut and rushes back to his conversation with you.

“You ever been with Mandalorian?” he types.

While he anxiously awaits your response he checks his other messages. SorganSlut69 is asking what types of services he offers. He supposes he should make a price list now.

He types out:

15 credits for nude mirror pics (helmet stays on of course)

25 credits for bulge pics

50 credits for dick pics

100 credits for jerk off vids

+25 credits for pictures of the mess after

Venmo: BountyMan1

That seems reasonable, right? He sends the price list to SorganSlut69 and checks his other messages. He decides just to send his price list to everyone actually, figuring it would be easier that way. But he holds off on sending the price list to you for some reason. JabbaTheSlut immediately asks for an aftermath picture and sends twenty-five credits. He takes the picture before his cock goes fully soft and sends that over.

SorganSlut69 says, “Mirror picture first. I want to see what I’m working with.”

He sighs and gets up, cleaning up the mess of cum and slowly taking off his armor and flight suit. He realizes he has to be hard again for this picture so he strokes his cock once more, thinking of you…

Soon enough, he’s rock-hard and holds up his data-pad in front of the mirror, snapping a photo but waiting to send it until he receives the credits. SorganSlut69 sends the fifteen credits and he sends the picture, taking the time to transfer all of his new credits to his bank account before proceeding any further. He surely has enough to fix the pipe in the refresher now but he has to keep going if he’s going to repair the Razor Crest’s engine.

A notification from you pops up on his screen.

“Nope ;),” you respond. All the better for him.

I can do this, he tells himself.

Little does he know he’s great at this actually.

A few rotations have passed and even if that short amount of time he’s built up regulars; JabbaTheSlut, BeMyNaboo, JediPussyTrick, and SorganSlut69. And then there’s you. He hasn’t brought up his new line of work with you just yet. His conversations with you range from sexual topics to random casual stuff. He likes talking to you and maybe he doesn’t want to bring up what he does yet, fearing it may change your dynamic from a woman he’s talking with to one of his clients.

His regulars are… fine. The conversations there are purely transactional, never extending into real conversation. Except for SorganSlut69 who tries to converse with him. She’s extremely annoying but she tips on top of paying paying Din his normal rate. So he feels obligated to entertain her.

One afternoon you happen to ask him, “So you’re a bounty hunter?”

Kriff, he feels like he can’t lie to you for some reason. Even though it’s so easy to do that over a screen, but he just can’t bring himself to do it.

“I used to be,” he replies.

“What do you do now?” you ask.

“...I sell photos.”

“Photos? What kind?”

He sighs and figures it would be easier just to send you his price list. Maybe you’ll want something?

Your response is so cute to him for some reason.

“Would it be okay if I bought something?”

You’re like… asking for permission to use his services. He doesn’t quite get why but it’s adorable to him.

“Of course. What would to like?”

“Hmm, a bulge pic.”

Right after you send that he gets a notification from Venmo. And just when he thought you couldn’t get any cuter you do, putting a little note in the memo on the transaction.

“Thank you <3,” the note says.

He’s already hard because it’s you of course. He snaps a photo and sends it your way, extremely anxious for your response.

“Oh wow,” you respond with an emoji that has a shocked expression on its face.

“You like what you see?” he asks.

“I doooo,” you say.

“You want anything else?”

“Video?”

Maker, he’s excited to send you this video. He’s already hard and horny for you, thinking about what it would be like with you here, straddling him and soaking his cock. Kriff, he wants you bad.

He pulls out his cock, the tip glistening with the most pre-cum he’s ever seen. He begins recording, stroking his cock slowly before building up to a faster pace. He wishes he wasn’t about to cum in his hand, instead wishing he was coming on you, inside you- wherever you wanted him.

Before he knows it, he’s coming in his hand, letting out a deep and visceral moan, his imagination feeling almost real for a moment. He stops recording and sends you the video before checking to see if you even sent the credits first. You did, though, he just couldn’t recall during his state of bliss. The memo on the transaction is filled with a bunch of hearts of course. He’s got it bad for you.

A few weeks pass by and his business is going stronger than ever. The Razor Crest’s engine is repaired. The pipe in the refresher is fixed. And he’s got enough rations to last him for weeks. He has a few more regulars and SorganSlut69 is just as annoying. His conversations with you are deeper and more meaningful, despite you being one of his customers. He wonders if one day this will progress any further.

His questions are answered when you send him a message that says, “Have you thought about selling your cum?”

The question makes his brain short-circuit.

“No… Why?”

“I told my friends I was talking to a Mandalorian and they told me I need to try some of his cummies.”

“To do what with it?”

“I don’t know exactly… Play with it?”

That’s not.

“Okay… How do I get it to you?”

“Where are you located?”

“...Nevarro.”

“No way! Me, too.”

Kriff, he wasn’t imagining it. The background in your icon was actually Nevarro.

“Meet up at the marketplace?” he asks.

“Sure. How’s tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah! After sundown?”

“Sure!”

Krifffff, he’s nervous. How is he going to do this? It’s still pretty early in the day. He can’t imagine you want his hours-old cum in a jar.

Maybe he can… convince you to watch? Maybe.

Whatever, he’ll just find out when he sees you.

Nightfall comes around and Din is anxious to meet you in person, to hear what your voice sounds like, to see what you smell like– to see if you match the idea he has of you in his head.

He heads to the marketplace as darkness sweeps through the town, no one around except for nefarious characters. And Din doesn’t care about what those people think of him. He spots a figure in the center of the marketplace, facing away from him.

It has to be her, he thinks to himself.

He approaches slowly before softly calling out, “WhoreForMandalore?”

“Hi! You must be BountyMan1,” you say, turning around and greeting him with a smile. You immediately tell him your real name and he repeats it over and over in his head, deciding that it suits you.

“So… Do you have it?” you ask, complete with a suggestive smirk.

“Oh! I, uh, thought you might want it… fresh?” he sputters. He could have worded that better.

“Oh! Um-”

“You know… not stale.”

“Right! My place or yours?”

“I’ve got a cramped ship so maybe yours?”

“Sounds good!” you say cheerfully, leading the way to your house.

It’s a small house on the outskirts of town, the opposite side from where Din parks the Razor Crest. You let him inside, closing the door behind you before leading the way to your bedroom. Din takes a look at his surroundings, noticing little details about your living space as he walks through. You sure like Dr. Pepper… He can tell by all the cans on your coffee table, on the kitchen counter, and on your nightstand.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, gesturing to the bed.

He sits at the edge of the bed awkwardly, feeling incredibly nervous. Are you going to watch him do this? Kriff, that thought alone already has him hard.

“Where do you, uh, want it?” he says, glancing around the room, “In this?” he says, picking up an empty Dr. Pepper can.

“Hmm, I have a different idea,” you say suggestively, walking in front of him and kneeling on the floor.

“Oh? What are you-” he cuts himself off when his breath hitches at your touch. Your hand slides up his thigh, inching closer to his cock.

“Is this okay?” you ask sweetly, peering up at him.

“Y-Yes… More than okay,” he stutters.

“Alright,” you chuckle, undoing the flight of his flight suit. Never in a million cycles did Din think he’d be here in your bedroom, with you on your knees before him, taking his cock out. His brain short circuits and he realizes he should set down the Dr. Pepper can he’s still awkwardly holding. He sets it back down on your nightstand and shudders when your hand finally wraps around his cock. You start by going slow, licking his balls, and kissing the base of his shaft. Your lips and tongue move ever so slowly, teasing him relentlessly.

“Kriff, cyar’ika,” he moans, “Oh wait, do you know what that means?” he asks, voice jumping an octave as you lick one long, slow stripe from his base to his tip.

“You think WhoreForMandalore doesn’t know what cyar’ika means?” you tease.

“You’re right. I-” He’s cut off again when you swirl your tongue in between the head of his cock and his foreskin. He curses in Mando’a, his voice low and the words so jumbled you can barely make out what he said. Your hand wraps around the base as you finally take him in your mouth, fitting as much of his length as you can. Your head bobs up and down as your tongue is flat against the underside of his cock. His hands caress each side of your head, ever so lightly because he’s unsure if it’s okay or not. But when you moan at the feeling of his gloved hands enveloping your face he grips harder, using a little more force. You look up at him, directly into his visor and Din has to try his best not to bust right then and there, in love with the way you’re so eager to please him. Your other hand cups his balls as you suck him off faster, picking up the pace when you hear his moans grow stronger.

And then he cums, hot cum spilling down your throat all while you don’t break eye contact, swallowing every last drop. He lets out a deep, guttural moan from underneath his helmet, his mixture of pants and curse words filling your bedroom. And once he’s done coming, you don’t stop, prolonging his high even further.

But once he’s finally done and you take him out of your mouth, you look up at him, resting back on your heels.

“Was that okay?”

“That… was amazing, cyar’ika,” he pants, still in disbelief that that just happened. He just expected to jerk off into a Dr. Pepper can, not receive head from the most beautiful woman on Nevarro. He looks down at you as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and feels… nervous all of a sudden. He’s never done anything like that before… like ever.

He rises from the bed and dashes out of your room, all while you’re looking up at him in confusion.

“Bye. Thanks for everything. Don’t worry about paying me!” he calls out over his shoulder, leaving your house and swiftly heading back to the Crest.

He runs inside and sits in his bunk, panting from his little sprint and the evening’s activities. He wants to see you again. That is if you’ll still have him after.

His worries subside once he hears a noise from data-pad go off. He picks it up and reads a Discord notification from you.

“I had fun tonight. Until next time, Mando ;)”

Hopefully y’all caught the little Easter egg in the beginning but, the woman with long green hair and beautiful eyes is @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin 😍😏

@pedrostories

#what the fuck is this lol #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin crack fic #pedrostories #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

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fluffyglass · 15 days

Text

This is the "Cromdo did nothing wrong" post.

HEAR. ME. OUT.

I'll start with what sparked this whole discussion; Cromdo being fully justified in "robbing" Liz and Egg's house. You may be thinking "what the hell that's obviously a terrible thing to do" NO. And here's why.

Cromdo states in his interview that he thought of sailing away when shit hit the fan, only to discover that the boat was gone (and some of Liz's belongings are nearby), which lead him to assume that Liz and Egg had abandoned everyone. Based on the evidence he had, this is a completely reasonable conclusion! Considering (in Cromdo's view) that Liz and Egg are no longer on the island, him salvaging their belongings is completely reasonable. Was trying to sell them cool? Not really. But taking them in general was completely justifiable.

Where do we go from here? Well, that leads me to another story that requires some context. For those who aren't in the Snakpack discord, I recently went on a three hour deep dive discussing when and why everyone left Snaxburg post-Liz's disappearance, and something came up regarding Cromdo that I couldn't come to a conclusion for- why Beffica planted evidence in his hut.

In Cromdo's interview, he claims that Beffica planted her diary in his hut to frame him.

(I believe he's telling the truth here, because it's such a specific detail that I don't know if he'd make it up. Given it's something everyone would have known about, he'd be incredibly easily disproven, so I'm taking his word for it.)

Now, what motivation would Beffica have for falsifying evidence? Given her interview where she states she posted pics of all his little crimes, we can presume she had photographic evidence of Cromdo "robbing" Liz and Egg. So why would she need to fake a diary theft if she already had all the evidence she'd need against him?

This is the part where I go a little insane LET ME COOK.

I think that once Cromdo found the boat gone, he told everyone that Liz and Egg abandoned them. And yknow what? Some (maybe most?) of Snaxburg believed him. So when he started salvaging their belongings, nobody was too concerned - save for Beffica, of course. Beffica didn't believe Cromdo because she already had a bit of a vendetta against him, so I think she planted false evidence in Cromdo's hut to "prove" that Cromdo was lying and was just using the disappearance as an excuse to rob them. Because... why would she be so concerned about Cromdo "getting back" at her if everyone in Snaxburg was on her side?

I think she was worried he'd call her out for falsifying evidence against him.

CROMDO. WAS. FRAMED.

Now I'm not claiming Cromdo isn't a thief. He (presumably) stole one of Snorpy's lunch pads and enlists the journalist to steal Triffany's map. However, compared to some of the shit these grumps do (looks at Wambus, Beffica, Gramble, Wiggle and Snorpy) some petty theft is NOTHING. Snorpy had multiple lunch pads. Triffany was biased against Cromdo possibly because of the slander Beffica pulled about him, and yeah stealing it from her house was bad, but again. He isn't punching the shit out of someone or placing trackers on people without their knowledge.

In conclusion:

The title of this post is technically a lie. Yeah, Cromdo did some stuff wrong, HOWEVER, his petty theft is really all you can count against him. Cromdo was quite possibly framed and blackmailed and had the entire town turn against him when he was (kind of?) trying to help. Cromdo did some bad things, but given this island? Practically nothing. I will stand by this.

Thank you for your time. Cromdo did nothing wrong.

#bugsnax #cromdo face

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n3xii · 1 year

Text

What do people think of you?

Reminder that I sell personal readings for an affordable price, my dms are open.

Masterlist

Today's reading explores what people think of you whether good or bad, reminder this is a general reading so don't force anything to resonate if you dont feel it does <3 here's the pics to choose from:

Pile one

What people think of you-

King of wands reversed, 4 of swords reversed, saturn in scorpio

People see you as a visionary with aspirations bigger than your means, there are people (or even just one person) in your life who thinks you are unrealistic and overly ambitious. They see you as someone who needs to "manage their expectations" when it comes to what you can accomplish and get in life. I like this about you though, your aspirations should be so big that others are intimidated. As long as you have the motivation and attitude to actually make shit happen, you can achieve more than you realize. I also sense that people think you're burntout or tired and that you need to give things a break so that you can actually have the enrgy to achieve what you want. They feel you go all in on things and burn yourself out before seeing results. There's an energy here where people feel that you could accomplish so much with your life if you had the patience and discipline, they feel that if you developed more long term commitments and stick to what you start that you can make alot of success for yourself. Going back with the first message about you being too ambitious, this may be beacuse people know how you are and that you don't always reach your full potiental. They see you and your aspirations, goals and desires and feel that if only you stuck to it you would actually reach it. They feel that if you developed more self discipline and responsibility then you would be unstoppable. But I a sense you are already unstoppable, you just need to be realistic and disciplined when it comes to completing goals. You're someone who doesn't like to start small or create small goals to reach, you're someone who has a hard time feeling proud of themselves when they reach a small milestone. You need to unlearn that because a big part of completing goals is about the tiny milestones in between. You can skip to the finish line, it won't be as satisfying

Pile two

What people think of you

Page of pentacles reversed, the high priestess, Venus in capricorn

I feel like people don't understand why you do what you do, but internally you follow your instincts and emotions. Theres an energy of soneone or some people who feel you aren't doing what you should be doing to progress or become financially stable, but they don't understand where you feel guided and that you're simply trusting yourself. Someone thinks you should be doing other things and spend your time more usefully, but again you list to yourself, you honor your instincts even if others don't understand. And that's more appreciated than you think. (Sidenote that may not resonate with everyone) Some of you are in a relationship with an older person and people think it's a waste of time for you, others of you are attracted to older men and others don't understand that lol)

Regardless, I'm seeing you're the type of person who is private and not open about your ambitions, you keep it to yourself because you want to rely on your own intution and not the asvice of others. People see you as a very classical beauty as well, that your beauty reminds them of an different time or era, and that you're a timeless masterpiece. You may enjoy classical art or music, and your may have a very eye catching style that is either vintage or has alot of neutrals. You come off as very serious and hard to read to some people but beneath that you have a very good sense of humor

Pile three

What people think of you

The hermit and two of wands both reversed, moon in pisces

People see you as someone who avoids choice or someone who avoids taking indefinite action because you're afraid to move forward with certainy, you dont give the impression that you trust yourself. The abundance of possibilities and choices is overheleming because you overthink every scenario. You may dissociate alot. You are seen as someone who is resistant to leave their comfort zone or to come out of their shell. I think you are this way because emotionally you have a almost psyhcic awareness of the emotions of others, you may like to be lowkey because you can be easily overwhelmed. You are a good listener, you're extremely understanding and empathetic and people see this about you. But that moon in pisces card still points to escapism and wanting to withdraw instead of facing the reality and situation at hand. People see you as someone who needs to stop relying on their inner world and solitude because you are sacrificing your freedom by doing that. They see you as someone who needs to come back to the present moment and out of your escapism tendencies. You may often disappear unintentionally to rejuvenate and become difficult to reach. You recover from being overwhelmed by daydreaming, solitude, maladaprive daydreaming or dissociation. You overthink choices and end up avoiding thise choices as a whole out of fear. People see you as someone who needs to become more sure and certain of themselves so that they can come out of their shell

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nichirinpen · 1 year

Text

DILF for Hire

TojixReader

Can also be read here on Ao3

Synopsis- You hired a stranger to accompany you to an event your Ex is attending. One thing leads to another and the next thing you know he's come home with you.

Content Warning- AFAB reader descriptions, Smut, cunnilingus, Edging, vaginal penetration

~Minors DNI~

You knew it was risky using an app to find a date. There were all those horror stories about 'ChadsList' and weirdos who kidnapped women or killed them. You hadn’t wanted to use a dating app for obvious reasons, one unsolicited dick pic was enough to have you delete them forever. But this new app that had taken the world by storm seemed reputable. At least to you it did. Called " Don’t Sweat It " it touted itself as a reliable and safe network that did everything right.

Background checks? They did it. Social media checks? Also done. Hell to even sign up to the app you had to provide your driver's license and wait a month to hear back. But you got it and got in. The level of security you knew other users had to go through put you at ease.

Maybe too much at ease. Looking at the man looming over you, the thick scar near his mouth, the way his lips curled as if he were annoyed. Perhaps it was just as bad as internet rumors said.

"You're Name . Right?" His voice was deep, the tone of annoyance sending a shiver down your spine. The man was tall, so tall he was half titled to look down at you as he waited. You nodded stiffly, looking at the app confirmation that sat cheerfully on your phone. The clean shaven smiling man in the photo was for sure him.

"You're Toji?" Your voice came out as a squeak, the words half strangled. Clearing your throat you blushed, looking back down at the app. It was indeed Toji, he looked exactly like the photo on his ad space.

That's how the app worked. They knew people wanted a reputable site for odd jobs and requests so one was built. Part of it functioned for the buying and selling of goods, the other half for finding someone to fulfill a request. Need a babysitter for a night, they had hundreds. Need someone to take grandpa to the doctor? Pick your driver. And for you, sadly, you had entered a search for a companion. Specifically one who would go to a company party with you and play boyfriend for a few hours. After scrolling past people who were definitely way too young to use the app, you had found Toji. Profile had stated he was a single dad, 34. The ad in question, " Anything goes ".

You sincerely hoped not. More so for his sake and his kid. Toji looked like he could crush someone with his bare hands but you still found the ad a tad reckless.

"So what's the plan?" His gruff voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you blinked rapidly to clear your head.

"Well. Tonight at 8 pm there's a company dinner I have to attend. Like I messaged earlier, I don't want to go alone."

Toji nodded, leaning back against the glass display he was next to. The fake cakes glittered obnoxiously, their cheerful sign telling you to ‘ check out the third floor! ’ You waited nervously, glancing about the busy space. Being smart was one thing you had wanted to do, so the local mall had seemed like the best place to meet him. Shoppers bustled about the well lit stores, chatter over-layed the low music that seeped from the old speakers. It wasn’t as packed as it normally was but that suited you just fine. There were security cameras and other people if he tried anything.

"Is that why you're all dressed up?" His question sounded judgmental. You flushed, looking down at your dress and heels. The elegant black dress paired with your favorite black heels was a muted choice. You wanted to look good but not stand out. Even so. The neckline swooped low, your breast pushed up nicely by the built in bra. And the dress hugged your form, leaving rather little to the imagination. It had been custom tailored after all, a gift of sorts meant for another occasion. You bit your lip in frustration. It made you feel like a clown wearing it in the middle of a mall where kids bustled past, pizza in hand.

"It is indeed." It was also why you had asked him to dress nice. Apparently Toji's interpretation was a tight black shirt and sweatpants. They complimented his form, but not at all what you had in mind. He looked like he was ready to go to the gym, not sit at a 5 star hotel bar and down liquor.

"We need to get you a suit." Your words seemed to annoy the man slightly. His eyebrows twitching as if he were trying to suppress a nasty comeback. Toji simply nodded and gestured for you to lead the way.

You did so, wobbling slightly in the heels as you made your way across the mall to a suit shop. It was the oldest store in the mall, it's elderly owner, one you knew well unfortunately. As you made your way to his shop you glanced at your wrist watch. 6:58 pm . Would that be enough time? You hoped so.

The bell above the door signaled your entry, the little old man scurrying from the back with a huge smile on his face. Mr. Itadori looked tired, the lines on his face deep. You noted the lack of his grandson in the shop. Poor old man must be working overtime.

"Ms. Name !!" How pleasant to see you again!" Mr. Itadori’s cheerful countenance made you feel guilty for some reason. The old man took your hands with a smile. His dry hands felt like cold paper against yours. Squeezing them gently you shot him a small smile.

"Picking up a suit for Gojo?"

You shook your head slowly. "Uh no. Gojo is. Gojo bro..." You paused, finding the words stuck in your throat. The old man looked at you worriedly, his fluffy eyebrows pinching as he waited.

"I need a suit for my friend!" You went for the easy route, gesturing to Toji. Mr. Itadori shot you a look before turning and sizing up the tall man. Your companion towered over him, his face stoic.

"Silly Toji here forgot about the company dinner tonight. So we rushed over here!". The forced cheerfulness in your voice was so blatant. You winced, knowing you had no one here fooled. Just a little longer and you could be out of here. Away from the questions that lingered in Mr. Itadori’s gaze. He would never ask, he was far too polite, but you could see he knew exactly what you weren’t saying. And he pitied you for it.

You waited as the old man took measurements and hummed over the fabric. He moved like lightning back and forth from one suit rack to the next. Toji watched impassively, his green eyes occasionally flicking over to where you sat. You hoped he would just quietly accept this and that the night would go over well. Paying 1,000 dollars for essentially a glorified escort was going to make a dent in your savings. Part of you was ashamed, the thought of using funds for such a stupid reason made you want to curl into a ball from embarrassment. But the part of you that was angry, hurt and betrayed, was stronger. 1,000 was a small price to pay if it would make Gojo Satoru jealous and maybe even hurt.

“I'm thinking we play off the black you are wearing dear.” You jumped slightly at Mr. Itadori’s voice. Nodding, you quickly focused, shoving the anger that had welled up back down. The small old man stood in front of Toji, holding a black suit with a dark red button up underneath. You tilted your head at the combo, but nodded. Mr. Itadori had been making suits for 60 years according to him. You were not about to question a master tradesman. Mr. Itadori quickly closed the curtains around the dressing area, scurrying over to you as you both waited.

“He’s a nice looking fellow.” His statement had a question hidden under it. You hummed, deciding to not open that can of worms. Mr. Itadori hummed back, his keen eyes peering at you from under bushy eyebrows.

“I’ll never give him another discount on suits.” You turned at the words, frowning slightly. Mr. Itadori jerked his head towards the shop front, gesturing to nothing in particular.

“You’re a nice woman, Gojo was lucky you ever gave him the time of day.” Mr. Itadori’s brows were furrowed as he scowled up at the ceiling. He seemed genuinely disappointed in the other man. You smiled, patting his hand gently. “You don’t have to change your business up because of me. I know he’s one of your top clients.”

Mr. Itadori grumbled, crossing his arms, “Well maybe I'll just stick him with a pin now and then.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head at the old man. He seemed pleased by your reaction, his expression clearing into a cheerful grin. Both of you turned in surprise as the curtain was roughly shoved back, revealing Toji fully dressed. The suit looked good on him, really good. You weren’t sure if it was just him or if Mr. Itadori was that good at his job. The black fabric clung in all the right places, emphasizing the muscles that sat tense beneath.

“Hmmm which tie.” Mr. Itadori held up a few, all of which Toji brushed away.

“This is good.” He unhooked the first 3 buttons of his shirt, exposing his collarbone and neck. You pretended not to see, turning to Mr. Itadori and digging through your clutch. Pulling your debit card from its spot, you handed it over with reluctance. A new suit was not on your list of monthly expenses. But hey you had come this far right?

“Ah, no.” You nearly jumped out of your skin as Toji pressed against you, the hard plane of his chest snug against your shoulder. The man knocked your hand from its outstretched position, offering up his card instead. Your eyebrows raised at that and you looked up questioningly. Toji said nothing, his nostrils flaring slightly as he looked at you.

No, not quite. You felt your cheeks and neck flush, he was very blatantly staring down your dress. The angle from his height gave him a nice view of the tops of your breasts and the hidden skin of your sternum that the dress was covering. Pretending not to notice you shifted, tucking your debit card away in your clutch.

After paying you hurriedly left the store, your watch said 7:20 . That was the perfect amount of time to get a cab to the venue. You wobbled your way down the stairs to the first floor, hell bent on making it to the front doors. Toji followed behind slowly, his hand stuffed deep in his suit pockets. He seemed unbothered whereas you were all nerves. Your stomach clenched and you again began wondering if this was a bad idea. The quest for revenge or at least a small slice of it seemed to be paved with stupidity. You chewed at your bottom lip as you pulled up the cab app. It cheerfully asked for your destination which you input with slightly trembling fingers. Pushing through the front doors of the mall, you input your address and almost immediately got a ride confirmation. Thankfully there was one a block away and you sighed as you stood at the curb waiting.

“So how bad did this guy fuck up?” Toji’s voice was low and even, his eyes roaming over your form as you turned to look at him. The question confused you for just a moment, but one look at his smug, almost cat-like smirk, you knew what he meant. Toji knew exactly why he was hired without you being forthcoming.

“Uh well.” You tapped your foot nervously against the sidewalk. The cab turned into the mall parking lot and you waited, not sure what to say. It skidded to a halt near you, the back doors unlatching. Toji opened your door for you, allowing you to slide in before he made his way around the other side. Once he was settled the cab was off, the driver quietly ignoring the two of you. With the divider in between, you knew that he couldn’t hear, not that it mattered.

“We dated for 6 years.” You leaned back in the seat with a sigh, tilting your head to look up at Toji. The man nodded, his expression apathetic.

“I bought this dress for an evening that was planned.” You paused, feeling that icy clench in your heart. It hurt to say these things out loud. You had barely acknowledged them the past few weeks, drowning your feelings with too much work and way too much pizza. But you had to confront them, that was the whole point of tonight.

“Uh three weeks ago we were supposed to sit down and he was going to propose.” You looked away from the man, your gaze locked on your reflection in the window. Toji was reflected as well, his eyes skipping over your form as he waited.

“Instead the day before I get a text. All it said was ‘It’s over ’.” You clenched your fists, your fingernails biting into your palms as you thought of the message. Of the calls being denied and then eventually you being blocked. It was as if 6 years hadn’t happened. As if you were a stranger pestering him. No goodbye, no explanation. Just over.

“Sounds like a pretentious prick.” Toji huffed. You glanced at him, slightly surprised. The older man shrugged at you, his expression impassive.

“He told you when he was going to propose?” The man shook his head, dark hair obscuring his eyes slightly. “Tacky.”

You shrugged, looking down at your hands. Truth be told you had disliked the fact that he had told you, that it had been so planned out. But that was Gojo Satoru. He was the son of a successful CEO, his life wasn’t just handed to him but also meticulously planned out. Every last detail, including breaking up with you. Your stomach churned at the thought of seeing him. What was that saying? Don’t date coworkers. You were feeling the consequences of ignoring that big time.

“It is what it is.” You sighed, glancing back out the window. A large rough hand was on your thigh, thick fingers squeezing gently. You jumped slightly, heat rushing through your veins as you stared at him. Toji shot you a smirk, fingers tightening again as he squeezed your thigh.

“Hey you paid me for the night. Let’s give the little bastard a good show eh?”

You laughed in surprise, one hand pressing against your mouth as a snort left you. Out of all the things he could say, all the reactions, this was different. Everyone else had given you sympathy mixed with a hint of ‘I told you so ’. It had infuriated you to no end the sorry and the looks that said that you should have seen this coming. Even worse, your mother making that face you knew meant ‘ What did you do wrong? ’.

But Toji? The man had withdrawn his hand but his smirk stayed the same. He looked like he lived for fucking around with people. Your eyes went to his hand, now resting in his lap. Toji had nice hands, the skin was nicked with small scars here and there, but they were charming. In an odd way.

The cab lurched to a halt and you felt your heart drop. There was the hotel, in its shiny glory. Bright lights flashed outside, a small group of press loitering around the entrance. Of course they were. Gojo posed for the camera like no other high society figure. He reveled in it. You hated it, the flashing lights, the lewd questions. Always entertained by the white haired man but never you. Nothing was worse than being splashed across the front page of a tabloid. What had they called you? ‘ The Mouse.’ You grimaced, unbuckling your seat belt.

Toji had already exited the car, yanking your door open and extending his hand. You raised an eyebrow as you stepped out, gently sliding your arm around his. Toji took the lead, his large shoulders easily punting a reporter aside as he made his way up the stairs. You kept your head ducked slightly, hoping that the unfamiliar man and your lack of flair would keep them disinterested.

“Hey, it's Ms. Mouse!” You flinched at the shout, your hand tightening on Toji’s arm. He looked down at you, taking in your pinched expression and tense body. From behind you could hear the reporter shouting again, the man’s greasy voice drawing the attention of the other reporters.

God this was a nightmare. You should have never come out.

Your heart dropped as you felt Toji’s arm leaving yours. Was this too much? You hadn’t exactly been upfront with the man. The request was simply ‘Need a date for a work event.’ .

“What the fuck did you just call my girl?” Toji barked. You watched, flabbergasted as his large hand whipped out, grabbing the weasel looking reporter by the scruff of his jacket. Toji shook the man slightly, snapping the question again. The reporter looked mortified, his waxy face going pale as he stuttered excuses and apologies. Toji merely scoffed, shaking his head before letting the man go. You watched as the reporter fell on his ass, sliding a few steps down before he caught himself.

“Let’s go.” Toji placed his hand against your waist, guiding you up the last few steps. The doormen swung the heavy gilded doors in, bowing as the two of you entered. You flashed your work badge to the security detail, Mr. Panda. The large man smiled at you, his signature hair buns wiggling slightly as you were let into the event. It was packed, event staff and your company's many employees bustling about. You recognised a few faces here and there, but the place was so packed it was hard to get anyone’s attention. Not that you necessarily wanted to at the moment. No, the target of tonight's actions would suffice.

“Ms. Mouse.” Toji snatched a champagne glass from a nearby waiter, downing it in one gulp. You nodded at his words, feeling slightly awkward. He was a stranger and yet, he was being shown the most awful and anxiety-inducing parts of your life.

“You act more like a mink.” He shot you a smile, the words and action making your heart swell for some reason. You coughed, trying to think what to say. The skin of your ears burned slightly and you hoped he hadn’t noticed. Words failed you as you trailed to the large gilded bar. Sliding up to the counter, you signaled the bartender. The young woman flashed a smile nodding dutifully as you asked for a Bailey’s.

“Irish liquor?” Toji leaned against the bar, not bothering to leave much space between the two of you. His hip pressed against yours, the warmth spreading across your skin. You nodded in response to his question, shoulders shrugging. As your drink was passed to you, you nearly spat it out as Toji asked for vodka, no ice. Shooting him a look, he merely smiled.

“I like the strong stuff, puts hair on your chest.”

You snorted in response, taking another sip of your drink, “Oh yeah you can attest to that?” The words were teasing, playful, but you could see Toji’s pupils dilate slightly at the words. He leaned in, one large finger playfully sliding down your right bicep. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mink.”

You hummed in response, the lack of words more due to you attempting to regain composure. His teasing tone and finger had your stomach fluttering. A low heat pooling in your nethers as he slid the finger back up to your shoulder.

“Oh My God!” You both flinched at the loud squeal that rang out across the venue. It was so shrill the sound somehow was louder than the rest of the party. You knew that voice all too well, with a sinking heart, you turned, glancing over your shoulder at the commotion. It was Gojo of course, his new shiny pink haired fiance plastered to his side. She was the one squealing, her shiny skin and lips reflecting the party lights all too well.

“Jesus how much plastic is pumped into that bimbo?” Toji’s question made you chuckle. He wasn’t wrong, the woman looked like she was three surgeries away from being on one of those botched surgery shows. Not that it mattered to her, no being the heiress of a large makeup company meant she had little to worry about. Especially so with her future husband secured before any surgery could go wrong.

The squealing was apparently about jewelry, because of course it was. The man was laughing, his stupid suit sparkling slightly under the bright light. It made him look ethereal, as always. Gojo was larger than life, otherworldly looking. And he knew it.

Part of you felt incredibly insulted. Had you not been dumped by him, had you never dated him and this was just a regular work event? Incredibly uncomfortable and inappropriate. No one would stop him of course, Son of the CEO and all that. But you could see the discomfort rippling through the ground, the shared glances and small grimaces.

You flinched as his gaze shifted, his fiance chattering away with one of her friends. Gojo’s icy blue eyes met yours, eyebrows lifting slightly. He was surprised you were here. You took a small step back as he started cutting across the crowd, your back hitting the bar.

“Can I touch you?” Toji’s odd question pulled you from your frozen state, you gaze lifting to his. The man was leaning awfully close, his warm breath tickling your forehead. His eyes crinkled in the corner and the grin he was wearing was definitely a shit eating one. Toji was up to something.

Your gaze went back to Gojo, the man stopped by a few coworkers and blessedly still several feet away. His eyes kept flicking to you however, the blue you once loved making your stomach cramp with worry. Looking back at Toji, you nodded once, wondering what he was up to. It wasn’t like he had asked to touch you early on the stairs.

Toji leaned in, one hand sliding around your waist while the other tugged your chin up, tilting your head towards his. You gasped in shock as his warm lips met yours. His tongue slid into your mouth, teeth clicking together slightly at the passion in which he kissed. Toji pressed against you, the hand at your waist sliding lower until he was grabbing a handful of your ass. It made your knees weak. His rough kiss was breathtaking, literally. You flushed, pulling away to catch your breath.

Toji smirked, his eyes not on you but over your head. Without turning you knew he was staring down Gojo. Something very few people had the balls to do around here.

“I am going to freshen up in the bathroom.” You stated shakily, your face tomato red. Also regain your composure, how many coworkers had just seen him grab your ass like that?

Toji merely smirked at your words, downing his vodka in a single gulp. You scurried away, slipping down the back hall and into the ladies room. There was no makeup to fix, you had opted for a simple lip gloss. You dabbed a wet paper towel around your lips, taking off the excess gloss that had been smeared there. There was nothing to do about the bright red of your face, time would cool your flushed cheeks. You were tempted to splash cold water on your face, but that would lead to drippy mascara.

Opting to not stress about it, you took a deep breath, puffing out your chest slightly as you fixed your dress. You looked good and you had successfully gotten in a little jab at Gojo. It wasn’t much, but it was as good as it was going to get. He was a spoiled rich boy, he would forget you and forget this moment in a matter of days.

Stepping from the bathroom, you started down the hall, back to the loud noise of the party. Your head felt slightly foggy still from the kiss, like Toji had somehow stolen your breath. Cheeks burning brighter, you felt your stomach tighten at the thought of his lips against yours again, his hands sliding over your skin.

“So who is the meathead?” You spun around, the train of thought broken. To your dismay the worst case scenario was playing out. Gojo, in his bright blue suit, stupid dark shades nestled in his hair, stood in the hall. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, he sauntered up to you. He was upset, despite his large grin. There were creases near his eyes, a slight twitch in the right corner of his mouth. Gojo was just barely keeping it together.

Toji had really gotten under his skin. You swallowed the urge to smirk, leaning against the hallway wall casually. Feigning disinterest, you gestured down the hall, back to the large crowd.

“You mean my date? Toji?”

Gojo nodded, “Yeah, since when have muscle heads been your type?” He was definitely irritated and as he took another step forward, you shrank back. The super angry part of you wanted to ask what was so great about his new bimbo fiance. But you didn’t have the heart. She wasn’t the one who broke your heart, she wasn’t the one who had ignored your texts and calls for answers. Just because she had chosen an unfortunate set of surgeries didn’t mean you could be nasty about her. It would make you no better than Gojo.

“I'm surprised a guy like him even has a suit.” Gojo laughed, the sound slightly strangled. You took another step back, lips pulling in a straight line as you attempted to swallow the small pang of fear that bubbled up in your chest. Gojo was known for always getting his way, known for jealousy. You had seen it while dating him, the anger and stonewalling he would direct at you when someone dared glance at you the wrong way. As if the glances of strangers were your fault.

“Kinda soon after a breakup to let another man shove his tongue down your throat?” His voice was much too loud, a half yell that felt like it echoed around you.

“Says the man who dumped me for a heiress.” You snapped back, crossing your arms against your chest as you leaned back, trying to avoid his advancing pace. Your words irked him, his thin white eyebrows dancing slightly as he tried and failed to hide the snarl that flashed across his face.

“You know I was going to be nice.” Gojo laughed, brushing a hand through his hair roughly. His stupid small glasses were flung off, skittering across the floor behind him. The man paid no mind, leaning forward as he spoke. He looked almost manic and as he opened his mouth again you caught a whiff of alcohol.

Just great. Drunk Gojo was a persistent asshole who would whine, yell and cry until he got his way.

“After Hillary and I got married, I was going to let you be my mistress.” He spoke with such sincerity it was laughable. You snorted, one hand coming up to cover your mouth as your brain tried and failed to think of a snappy response.

“No thank you.” A simple answer, but your words upset him, the man swaying as he took another step forward. His brow crinkled and you could see tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. He would cry, then yell until finally you crumbled. Or at least that was what he was expecting. But you were no longer dating him, no longer giving him your heart on a silver platter.

“No one else is gonna give you what I can.” His words slurred slightly, a single tear sliding down his cheek. What he was giving you was the start of a migraine. But you had no time to respond, a warm hand sliding around your waist. It was Toji, glaring at the other man. You relaxed slightly, pressing against him with a small sigh. He was a stranger but still more welcome than the sniveling man that stood in front of you.

Gojo stood up straight, his jaw clenching as he took in the tall man. His blue eyes shifted back to you, once again shining with tears.

“Please, no one else can give you what you want. Just me.” Gojo’s lips trembled as he looked at you, his eyes begging you for an answer. Instead of tugging at your heart, it made you angry. You clenched your fists, trying to think of an appropriate response.

“Full offense pal but you don’t strike me as the pussy eating type.” You let out a shriek of mixed shock and delight at Toji’s words. The man smirked at you, his fingers tightened slightly on your waist and you became painfully aware of just how warm he was. Gojo for his part was standing in shock, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Speaking of, let’s get outta here.” Toji laughed this time at your look of disbelief. You allowed him to shepard you away from Gojo, your face burning red at his words. Gojo was shouting something as you made your way to the front door, but you couldn’t hear it. Rather your mind didn’t bother to pick it up. You were too focused on Toji’s hand, it had slid back down to your ass, thick fingers squeezing the flesh gently as you walked.

“Fuck that guy.” You nodded numbly at Toji’s words, blinking as he shoved something in your hands. It was your clutch, you must’ve forgotten it at the bar. You took it gratefully, fishing your phone out clumsy.

“Your place?” Toji asked, his voice low. You blinked at him in surprise, your hands freezing mid air. What did he mean? You tilted your head, brow furrowing as you waited for him to elaborate.

“I was serious.” He gestured back towards the hotel venue. Your frown deepened. Serious about what?

“You look stressed, getting eaten out might relax you.” He spoke so matter of factly, no trace of teasing or sarcasm. His expression was genuine for the first time that night. You felt your mouth drop open as you sputtered, unsure of how to respond. Was he serious? Part of you hoped so, the thought of his head between your legs, green eyes watching as his tongue lapped at your folds. It made your knees weak.

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of that train of thought. He was still a stranger. Toji waited, a small smirk on his lips as if he knew the internal battle you were having. Plucking your phone from your hands, he opened your messaging app. You watched as he clicked on your most frequent contact, Nobara. Toji lifted the phone slightly, snapping a selfie of the two of you. In it you looked slightly dumbfounded, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. He sent the photo, then handed the phone back to you.

“Now your best friend knows how I look.”

This guy was too smooth. You bit your lip, looking down at your phone as you thought. To your place or not? As if to give you a nudge, Nobara responded. ‘Please tell me you got a piece of that beef cake.’

You opened the Cab app, quickly typing in your address. Looking back up, you wiggled the phone at the man. He smiled, slipping his arm around your waist and escorting you down the stairs. There was no more press outside blessedly, they had either left or slipped into the venue uninvited. Looking up at the night sky, you chewed at your bottom lip, heart racing as you thought of what you were about to do. This was utterly unlike you. And yet, you found yourself incredibly thrilled.

The cab arrived and as you sat in the back, you couldn’t help but bounce your leg. You could hear your heartbeat as the cab turned on familiar streets and made its way towards your apartment. Toji looked calm, leaning back against the seat as he watched you. His gaze was almost predatory, green eyes narrowed to slits. It made your heart skip a beat.

The cab stopped and for a moment you were frozen. Then you were out, walking shakily up the stairs to your apartment building. Your key card got you inside and then the two of you were making the long trek up to the 8th floor. The excitement waned slightly as you stumbled up a step, your heels catching on the metal stairs.

“Which floor?” You looked up at his question, wiggling your heel from the stupid gap between the metal slats. Toji motioned up the stairs, wordlessly asking his question again.

“Oh! 8th Floor.” He nodded, then swooped in, lifting you with ease. You squawked in surprise, the hard planes of his shoulder digging into your stomach. Toji bolted up the stairs, easily clearing the long trek in a matter of moments. You stared, impressed as he set you down. The man wasn’t even winded. He seemed to know what you were thinking, flexing his chest, the buttons of the suit visibly strained, just barely keeping together.

Your hands trembled slightly as you swiped your key-card again, your heart pounding so hard you could hear it. The thrill of doing something like this was making you dizzy with excitement. Opening the door, you tiptoed past your two neighbors to your apartment at the very end of the hall. The door creaked as you opened it and slipped inside. Toji followed, his eyes roaming around your rather messy apartment. You felt a twinge of embarrassment, the pile of clothing near the door was meant for donation, yet you hadn’t had the time or the heart to take them away just yet. Nearly everything in that pile was gifted by Gojo or something he had mentioned as his favorite. It was a sad reminder of the past, one you wished never happened.

Kicking off your heels, you crouched, rubbing at your feet. The shoes while amazing looking pinched your toes way too much. You wiggled the appendages as blood rushed back into your pinky toes.

“Did you pick this or him?” Toji’s voice sounded judgmental and as you turned to look you felt your face heating up again. He had plucked the light blue lace lingerie that had been sitting on the top of the pile. Shaking your head, you stood and snatched it from him.

“Him.” You tossed the garment back on the pile, your shoulders slightly tense. It was hitting you again that Toji was a complete stranger. You felt nervous, fingers twisting together slightly as you stared up at him.

“What do you prefer?” Toji leaned in as he asked the question, his eyes narrowed to slits. He was teasing you, his pupils dilating as he took in your look of questioning surprise.

“Honestly?” You picked at the fabric of your dress, unsure of where to look but not wanting to meet his intense gaze. “Nothing. No fancy lace, no leather or anything like that.”

Toji smiled at that, nodding. He didn’t comment on your opinion as you expected. Most men did, asking why you didn’t feel sexy or what was wrong with looking good. You thought you did look good, no wrappings or decoration needed.

“So. We’re doing this?” You gestured lamely towards your bedroom. The open door showing your black comforter and the closed blinds beyond. Toji shrugged, reaching up to undo his suit jacket buttons.

“Only if you want to. If not, I can leave.” His words hung in the air, green eyes locked on your face as he waited for your decision. You chewed at your bottom lip, gaze flicking between him and your bedroom. It wasn’t like you were drunk, quite the opposite you were fully lucid. And as odd as he was, Toji didn’t scare you, didn’t set off any alarms. In fact the only thing he set off was your arousal. The man had teased you already to the point of being wet.

Taking his large hand in yours, you led him to the bedroom, closing the door behind you. The apartment complex was touted as being sound proof, but you still didn’t want your floor neighbors hearing anything.

Turning back to him, you held your arms awkwardly to your sides, unsure of the next step. You had never had sex randomly with a stranger. It was always with a partner that you had been dating for a good amount of time. This was new and you were feeling slightly insecure. You shifted nervously, biting your lip as you tried to think of the first move.

Toji sat on the bed, shrugging his suit jacket off and tossing it on the floor. You watched, slightly mesmerized as he rolled up his sleeves. His muscles rolled under the tight shirt, their outlines tantalizing beneath the red fabric. Toji caught your glance, smirking slightly as he shifted his leg, spreading them open as he patted his thigh.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, head tilting as you watched him pat his thigh again. Slowly, you shuffled over, face burning as you sat on his right thigh.

“What do you like?” His question had you pause, eyes searching his face as you pondered. Had any of your previous partners ever asked you that before? You didn’t think so.

Cheeks burning, you ducked your head slightly, eyes locked on your hands which sat limply in your lap. Toji’s chest was warm against your side, his large hand resting against your waist gently. You shivered as his lips brushed against the skin of your neck, the sensation exhilarating. He bit the skin gently, your heart rate picking up at the action.

“Im not sure.” You answered honestly. Gojo hadn’t been the best of partners, despite 6 years together you could easily count the few amount of times he had made you orgasm on your hands. He had been very selfish in the bedroom, often leaving you feeling like a glorified sex doll rather than a partner. Before him had been partners as inexperienced as you, awkward fumbling, not quite figuring things out. You had yet to be with anyone who was experienced. The thought had you blushing deeper, more so from embarrassment at the unspoken revelation.

“Can I take the lead then?” Toji nibbled at your ear, his grip on your waist tightening. You nodded slowly, your heart rate picking up again as a shiver ran down your spine. His hand slid to the zipper at the back of your dress, fingers quickly tugging it down. You shivered as the dress opened, the warmth it had been holding being replaced by cool air.

Toji’s large hand moved to your back, fingers pressing against your spine as he drew his hand downwards. You sat, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as you waited for his next move. His eyes weren’t on you, not quite. Toji was focused on your skin, his lips moving so softly against your shoulder that it tickled.

The man had come off earlier as impatient and slightly crass. But now he was moving achingly slow. He smirked at his expression and you felt your face flush deeper. Toji was doing this on purpose, he was teasing you.

“No bra?” His thick fingers tugged at the back of the dress, the fabric quickly sliding down to your waist. You shivered, goosebumps cropping up as the cool air hit your chest. Nipples standing on end, you let out a small sigh as you shook your head. “Built into the dress.”

Toji hummed at this, his eyes locked onto your breasts. If you didn’t know any better you would think this was his first time seeing a pair. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated. A puff of air left his lips and you laughed, deciding to tease him back.

“So you’re a boob man huh?” Your words set forth a flurry of motion. Toji’s movements were so fast and fluid you barely had time to register the fact that he had indeed moved until you were on your back on the bed. Your mouth dropped open, heart racing as you stared up at the man crouch on top of you.

“I am an everything man.” Toji practically purred, his voice so low you almost didn’t hear it. Part of you wanted to laugh at the words, but he spoke with such conviction all you could do was nod, lips parting as you stared up at him. You shivered as he shifted, tugging your dress from your hips and tossing it aside. Both of you paused, you from embarrassment, Toji looking near feral. With how tight the dress had been, wearing underwear really wasn’t an option. You pressed your thighs together, your face burning as you looked away, not wanting to look at Toji.

The older man laughed, licking his lips as he straightened. His fingers deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, the red fabric flying to the far corner of your bedroom. The white undershirt quickly followed, leaving his chest exposed. You swallowed at the sight.

Beefcake indeed. Toji was built, his broad shoulders and chest complimented by his rather slender looking waist. Scars littered his skin, the small marks scattered about wildly. His muscles rippled beneath his skin, making you wonder just how he worked out to be that in shape.

‘Triangle Shaped’ Popped into your mind and you giggled. Toji squinted at the noise, his belt half undone. You bit your bottom lip, watching as the belt slowly slid from the pant loops. It too was tossed, the sharp noise of his zipper following the sound of the belt hitting your dresser. Bright green boxers made your eyebrow lift slightly and you stifled another giggle. Not at all what you had expected.

Leaving just his boxers on, the nice suit pants quickly lay draped across the floor. Toji joined them, to his knees at the edge of your bed. You lifted yourself on your elbows to see him better, waiting for his next move.

“OH!” You gasped as he grabbed both of your ankles, tugging you to the very edge of the bed. His head was positioned right above your cunt, warm breath fanning across your skin. You shivered in excitement, eyes wide as you watched him.

Toji spread your legs, warm breath tickling the sensitive wet flesh of your pussy. You shivered again in his grip, the warm puffs of air feeling teasing as they slid over your skin. His grip shifted from your ankles, sliding tantalizingly slow down your calves, then thighs. He finally rested his thick fingers on your waist, pinning your legs in place on either side of his head.

“You like teasing?” Your question was slightly shaky, your heart beat making your lungs feel breathless and head hazy. Toji smirked, nodding as he licked his lips. His dark hair obscured his eyes slightly, the green hue of his pupils nearly hidden beneath the dark curtain. It was like being stared at by a hungry predator. You wanted to urge him to start, to stop staring so intensely, but your words sat trapped in your chest. The anticipation was too thrilling, your body angled towards him as you waited, breathless.

Toji bent his head, lips gently caressing your inner thigh. The touch was barely there, each one butterfly light as he trailed down to the apex of your thighs. A strand of dark hair tickled against your other thigh, the sensation matching his infuriated soft kisses. You squirmed slightly in his touch, stilling as his hands tightened their hold. Toji paused, looking at you through his lashes.

“Be still darling.” You nodded, suppressing the shiver that ran down your spine. The man smiled at you, his grin sharp and catlike.

“Good girl.” He pressed a kiss against your clit, sending a wave of pleasure deep through your core. You gasped, trying your best not to let your hips buck into his face. Toji chuckled, tongue sliding roughly across your clit. You moaned quietly, clamping a hand over your mouth as he dragged his tongue across your folds. His tongue was burning hot against your pussy, the warmth he radiating seeming to all spill out through his mouth. Your fingers tightened over your mouth, a strangled moan slipping out.

Toji bent forward, his nose rubbing against your clit as one hand slid up your side, tugging your elbow and pulling hand from your mouth. He wanted to hear you, a fact that had your face bright red.

His hand slid back down your side, rough fingertips teasing as he slid the hand up your thigh then down. You whined low as you felt a finger slide against your folds, the finger resting at your entrance. His lips were on your clit again, sucking harshly as the finger gently circled your entrance. You wiggled your hips slightly, breath coming in pants as he continued with the slow torturous pleasure. Toji chuckled again, the vibrations making you whine.

He pulled away from your clit with a pop, pressing his tongue flat against your folds as he slipped a finger inside you. The thick digit was met with slight resistance, your walls tightening around the finger slightly.

You shivered as Toji began pumping his finger achingly slow, the pleasure a dull burning in your stomach. He ran his tongue up your pussy, laving at your clit before turning suddenly and biting the inside of your thigh. You yelped in surprise, hips bucking up in response.

The action shoved his finger deeper, your walls fluttering slightly as his finger scraped against the sensitive flesh.

Toji slipped in a second finger, the action stretching you. He chuckled at your red face and the short panting breaths you let you. The man was reveling in teasing you. He spread his fingers wide, the ache of feeling overly stretched starting up. You let out a whine, hips moving as he began rhythmically pumping his fingers. His rough skin felt heavenly, the friction building the tight heat coiling in your abdomen. Toji hadn’t broken his intense gaze, his eyes drinking in your gentle writhing as he pushed his thick fingers in deeper with each stroke. It was erotic in an odd way, you liked how he looked at you.

Toji’s teeth scraped over your clit, the action sending you over the edge. You gasped as you came, your walls spasming around his still pumping fingers.

Toji pulled back, letting your legs dangle limply over the edge of the bed. He smirked as he licked his fingers clean, eyes crinkling with amusement as he took in your relaxed form.

“Feeling better?” Toji teased, nudging your leg with his knee. You nodded, it had been a while since you had orgasmed. Toji smirked, turning and grabbing his slacks from the ground. You sat up, confused as he started tugging his pants on.

“You’re leaving?” You tilted your head as you asked, brow furrowing. Toji paused, one eyebrow raising as he looked at you.

“I said I’d eat you out and I did.”

You nodded slowly, gesturing with one hand to his very tented boxers. “What about you?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, glancing down briefly before back up at you. “I didn’t want to impose. I'm not a horny teen, I’m not pushy with women I barely know.”

You blushed at his words, they rang true. He was right, you were just strangers. Still, you felt the heat in your stomach coiling again, not quite wanting the night to end. “Well, I wouldn’t mind.” You bit your lip as you spoke, “If you were a little pushy.”

He stood for a moment, hands on the waist of his slacks as he decided. To your delight, the pants were dropped, Toji kicking them off with a grin.

“I can blow you?” You suggested, feeling slightly embarrassed to utter the words. Toji shook his head. “Gagging is a turn off.”

You opened your mouth to state you wouldn’t gag, and found yourself speechless as he dropped his boxers. Maybe you would gag, the man was thick, much thicker than you thought possible. What he lacked in length he made up for in girth. You shivered as he gave himself a quick pump, his thumb rubbing against the beads of precum that sat on the head.

“Ready?” Your nod of affirmation was jerky, your eyes locked on his cock. The man slid onto the bed and you wiggled backwards to give him room. He nestled between your legs, warm skin pressing against you.

Toji grasped both of your thighs, pulling your hips up to meet his. You gasped as he entered you, eyes wide as you struggled to accept his length. Toji was surprisingly gentle, his hips still as he waited for your body to relax. You did so slowly, moaning as he pushed further in, the stretching of your overstimulated walls making you nearly cum again. Twisting your hands in the comforter beneath you to ground yourself, you mewled as he stretched your walls further.

“Almost there.” He grunted, teeth clenched in a partial snarl as he slid in another inch. His broad chest was flushed, large arms shaking slightly as he held still again. The sight was divine, Toji looked like he was holding himself back just barely. You shifted, canting your hips into his and allowing for the last bit of him to slide in. The man grunted in surprise, hands tightening their hold on your thighs.

The grip was intense and you knew you would have bruises the next day. You found yourself shivering at the thought, walls fluttering around his cock as you drank in the sensation. Never before had you had a partner like him in your bed. It was exhilarating.

Toji drew back slightly, his thick cock rubbing against your walls as he pulled nearly all the way back. There was a small pause and then he was slamming back into you, the force mind numbing.

You let out a long gasp, head lolling back as the tip of his cock hit your cervix. The mix of pain and pleasure added to the fire in your stomach and you matched his pace as Toji began thrusting into you. Toji spat out a curse, the word strangled. You shuddered as he leaned over, biting your calf. He was like a wild animal, the odd composure from earlier slipping away as he thrust into your wet heat.

You felt your release building again, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to a second release. Walls fluttering around him, you softly let out his name, hips canting to meet his. Toji tilted his head back at his name, eyes narrow slits as he took in your light panting and sweat soaked skin.

He moved, again faster than you had time to comprehend. You cried out as he flipped you, still fully seated within your heat. You found yourself face down in the comforter, cunt aching as he pulled back and began thrusting again. Moaning into the blankets, you scrabbled to ground yourself, feeling his heavy weight pushing you further into the bed. His broad chest pressed against your back, pinning you in place as he continued his almost desperate thrusting.

You felt one of his large hands slid beneath you, roughly grabbing your breast. Toji shifted slightly, putting his weight on one elbow, the other hand pulling your hips closer roughly.

“Where?” The question confused your pleasure-addled mind. You moaned in response, pushing your hips back into him. Your walls fluttered wildly as a smaller orgasm hit you. Toji groaned, head resting against your back as he continued his pace, thrusting through your orgasm. It was too much, tears of over stimulation leaking from the corners of your eyes. Your cunt ached, each thrust scrapping harder and harder against your cervix.

“Where little mink?” His voice was strained, words coming out in a gasp. The fog in your mind cleared slightly and you pressed your hips against him. “Inside.” The word was whispered, barely audible, but Toji heard.

The man’s grip on your hip tightened painfully, his thrusting becoming erratic and sloppy as he chased his release. You moved weakly with him, feeling as though your bones were made of jelly. Toji came suddenly, his teeth latching onto the skin of your back as he thrust his cock deep within your walls. You whined at the sensation, the warm feeling of being utterly filled was erotic.

For a moment the two of you lay, locked together. You quickly caught your breath, head pressing into the comforter as the urge to sleep washed over you.

Toji rolled off of you, his limp cock slipping out. You shifted, rolling on your back to look at him. The man smirked at you, one large hand reaching out to pinch your nipples. You swatted at his hand, a laugh weakly leaving your lips.

“We should do this again.” Toji sat up, reaching to snag his boxers from the floor. You nodded quietly in response. It would be nice, maybe you could become something other than strangers.

“It’s late, so I need to get back.” He was standing now, reaching for the rest of his clothing. You sat up, feeling slightly dizzy as you watched him dress. Sluggishly you tugged on a bathrobe, ignoring the sensation of his cum sliding across your thighs.

Walking Toji to the door, you paused, looking up at the man. He leaned down, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“If you don’t mind kids, you’re more than welcome to join me tomorrow morning for breakfast.”

You raised an eyebrow at his offer, smiling in response. “I’d love that. Where should we meet?”

Toji smirked, opening the apartment door before turning to you. The look on his face was one of extreme amusement.

“How about the lobby?” You tilted your head, eyes narrowing at his teasing tone. Toji jerked his thumb to the stairwell that sat across the long hallway. “I live on the 5th floor. See you at 8?”

Your mouth fell open and you nodded stupidly as the older man laughed. He leaned in again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before sauntering down the hall. You watched him leave, rolling your eyes at his perfectly sculpted behind. The night had not really gone as planned. But you were just fine with that.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #smut #jjk smut

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itshermocrates · 2 months

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POISON- Ep. 4 Analysis

I have no idea if someone has already done something like this but these two unfortunate souls have been in my mind since I watched the show TWO WEEKS AGO. So I'm gonna share with you this personal analysis of what we saw during the Poison scene in Ep. 4 of Hazbin Hotel.

Again, I don’t know if anyone has already talked about this (I’m not very active on tumblr), but I think that what we see as Angel sings Poison is made not only to tell us how the relationship Angel has with Valentino is but ALSO how it came to be thanks to everything that's happening on screen while he's singing.

Of course the lyrics are also important so I’ll make some reference to those as well, but I’ll focus mainly on what we see. Since I can only add 30 pics in this post this will be a bit difficult but I will try my best.

SOME CONTENT WARNINGS! I'm not sure if this is even necessary but anyways,,, Pychological abuse, abuse, violence, domestic violence, drugs, addiction, sex work, dubius consent, sexual violence, abusive relationship, unhealthy power dynamics, angst, suicidal ideas (hinted), etc.

Now, without further ado, let's begin!

Before the song, Valentino and Angel have a fight in his dressing room. I want to start here because during that fight Angel gets a black eye and we get to see how the walls of his room are filled, not only by security cameras, but also by a lot of eyes that follow Angel wherever he goes inside the room. We will see more of these eyes soon enough.

After that fight Angel sends Charlie back home and we see a bit more of what we could expect from Valentino with his manipulation tactics. The sweet tone and the praise as he embraces Angel from behind, too close and too intimate considering he will be soon forcing him to go back to work.

These are the tricks every abuser uses to manipulate and control the people around them, and it’s what Valentino uses all the time with Angel.

This is the behavior of an abusive boyfriend, a dynamic they have in the present, but once Poison starts, we are presented with their backstory. Now we will get to see how that dynamic is even possible, how these two ended up together and how their relationship started and evolved.

Valentino sits next to the movie director and everyone starts moving to prepare the scene they are about to film. He is the one in control here, the one calling for action again and deciding who does what and when. And just like that we see how Angel's black eye is concealed by makeup, erasing the marks of what had just happened and metaphorically erasing the violence of the relationship he is in now.

Angel closes his eyes in displeasure, focusing on what Valentino wants from him. When he opens his eyes again, his expression is completely different, this Angel without bruises, is not only a version of him from minutes ago, before the fight with Val, or even prior to the abuse… This is the Angel before Valentino.

He walks backwards, as if he was going back in time, moving easily with the playful shamelessness that characterized him back then. When he sings “I’m not above a love to cash in” he was most likely referring to his past as a sex worker or at least, as someone who didn’t mind to sell his affections to get what he needed/wanted. During this time, he would most likely go clubbing every night, since it offered a good way to earn easy money while he had a great time, partying, drinking, consuming…

Angel probably was the type of person who used those who desired him to get whatever he wanted, a game he knew how to play. Even if it could get risky or inconvenient, he was a free soul, he was still in control of what he did or didn't do with all those people, so at the end of the day, he always won. That’s what he believes as he playfully lays back on the setting’s bed again.

That had always been true after all, or at least it was until he came across someone that beated him at his own game. Someone who would take that freedom and control over his own body away from him.

His expression changes again to one of terror when a shadow looms over his body from outside the frame. That’s the silhouette of the men he was previously filming with, but we can also imagine that this figure suddenly changing the way he moves, reacts and feels, was meant to represent Valentino.

After the other actors surround him, and the scene fades to black, we are shown what could have been Angel's previous workplace. A stripclub where he danced for money and probably engaged in sex work in a somewhat safe and controlled environment. Back then he had become popular enough to be "the star" of his own show, and a performer good enough to get a reputation that would eventually reach the ears of one of the most powerful overlords in that district.

Valentino discovered him maybe by chance, or maybe not. Maybe he had heard of Angel Dust and wanted to see for himself if this dancer was as good and pretty as all those people said. And after watching him perform Valentino was the furthest from disappointed, he had enjoyed the show so much that he decided to take a closer look at this Angel Dust’s skills.

He approaches him, maybe as a client, or maybe just as a guy interested in what he had to offer, and although Angel doesn't trust him at first, he ends up entering his game.

He was just another man who wanted to fuck him, one that had enough money to spoil him all he had ever wanted and more. It was quite the opportunity for someone as low in the food chain as him, and Angel had already played with rich men like Valentino before, he knew what he was doing.

So Angel took the bait, and had sex with Valentino. Probably a blowjob in that same club he danced at that served as a test for Valentino.

Now we have a scene with two Valentinos, one that is about to get head from Angel with a video camera on his hand, and another Val standing behind the cameras and lights of what we now know to be another movie set. The first Val we saw, extending his hand before Angel when he finished his performance, was the Val of his past, the one he sucked off the night they met. That was someone Angel thought to be somewhat honest, or, at the very least a man he heavily underestimated.

It's the playful man that winks seductively at him in the set from afar with those red hot eyes he fell for, the same that quickly turns into a different guy with similar clothes (red jacket and white fur) now recording him on set. Someone who quickly became a stranger to Angel, just as he is for us, since we can’t even see his face.

The second Val it's the real one, the one standing next to the movie director watching everything with calculating eyes and a dangerous smile. That's the man who told Angel all those red hot lies he believed to be true, and the one judging with this first meeting if the spider was a worthy investment or not.

Angel proves to be good enough. Valentino likes him, and after that night he starts to actively pursue Angel but he didn’t do that as a simple client. He can tell Angel isn't a common whore, he has talent, charisma and he's been playing this game for long enough to know all the tricks. One can only become so successful in this world knowing how to play their cards well.

It’s obvious then what he has to do to turn Angel into his next movie star. Valentino needs to make him fall in love with him and make him believe that Valentino can love him just as much. This is exactly what he is going to do.

On screen we see how Valentino's sex pollen (he's a moth guys, it has to be sex pollen) starts to fill the scene, and as it expands it engulfs Angel, making us know just how captivated, how absorbed he will end up being.

Note: I know there’s a theory that says that Valentino’s power comes from his saliva or something like that and I haven’t read it or anything, but I do believe the smoke/fog that surrounds him has the same effect as the “sex pollen” trope. Or at least it’s similar.

The red fog expands all over the frame, emphasizing Valentino’s overpowering skills and charisma. When it clears, we see Angel in a different place while he sings the second line of the lyrics “What’s the worst part of this hell, I can only blame myself”.

His expression is one of pure anguish and regret, and he’s saying this while standing in front of Valentino in his apartment. He's talking about how naive he was for believing all of Valentino's lies, to truly believe that what he felt for Angel was love. He blames himself for buying this love story and falling for him so hard it made him very easy to manipulate. He regrets not having seen it before it was too late.

Because when Valentino’s back appears at the left corner of the frame, with an extended hand and smoke-made chains, it’s Angel the one who finally cuts the distance and accepts the chains Val is offering him.

Angel was too blinded by Valentino’s courting, by his sweet words and lovely gestures, but also by the constant push and pull of their dynamic, the flirting, the teases, the seduction. He loved the attention and he loved the sense of control, of power, he could feel when he was with Valentino, an overlord no less, a demon so rich and powerful he could have anyone he could have ever wanted. But Val had chosen him, him of all people.

This brief initial moment represents the regret he feels when he remembers how it all started, when Angel thinks about the beginning of their relationship, a time when everything seemed fine and their sexual chemistry made him lose all sense of reason. Because with Val everything ended up leading him to his bed.

After this short display of regret, we are presented a sequence made to represent the fantasy Angel indulged himself in, an illusion tinted in pink colors and fun costumes. This is the story Valentino had carefully created for him to make him fall in love with him, a story that made the spider feel so good when he was by his side, he could easily excuse any warning sign in his sight.

Because Angel would obviously want to be with Valentino when all he knew about him was his lover persona, a facade that portrayed him as a passionate lover and playful partner, his (soon to be) poison.

They had fun and even when Valentino showed little fragments of his true intentions and personality, Angel was too blinded to notice that he was starting to lose the very game he had considered himself a master of. Valentino and the relationship Angel had with him was addictive, so it didn't matter what happened, Angel always came back. You can think of this as the result of Valentino’s sex pollen, his charisma or a combination of both, depending on what flavor of angst is your favorite.

What we can know for sure, is that they were both performers in their own ways, both players in the game of love, so Angel could have excused and normalized a lot of things he shouldn't have. Knowing their line of work, of course that they could get a bit too intense every now and then, of course things could get a bit out of hand between them, they were just sooo dramatic.

It was that rollercoaster of emotions, the raw intensity of it all what ended up hooking Angel so much. The playfulness that could get a bit dangerous really fast, even if the Valentino he thought he knew would never really hurt him. Right?

A few little details I like about this sequence are the way we get to see Valentino’s home in the background and how the colors of his clothes and body are darker than usual but still lighter in comparison to what we will see in the following scenes, indicating how this was still the “nice” version of Valentino.

In the same way, Angel is playing with the chains bounding his wrists together, not his neck (yet), telling us that he’s playing with fire, quite literally dancing with the idea of being owned by Val, but he is still a free soul. In this moment he was falling hard and quick for Valentino’s lies, but he wasn’t his captive yet.

He’s having fun while being manhandled by Valentino, both physically and emotionally, but he still thinks of it as a game, another part of their sex life and how they naturally work as a couple. It’s exciting, it’s new and Angel loves it.

Not knowing that the longer he stays the more power is giving Val over him. Valentino is starting to show his true colors, in these last frames we can see that his figure is getting darker as Angel is slowly discovering the manipulative side of Val, the controlling and abusive nature he had been hiding from the spider since the beginning.

The push and pull continues as we see their silhouettes dancing, even if in reality this is Valentino pulling from his side of the chain to keep Angel close, to keep him with him.

After the shadows sequence, we get back to the playfulness Angel had shown when he took the chains for himself and started to tease Valentino. Only that this time, Val’s colors are darker and his touch more possessive, more aggressive. He’s groping him and even choking him while Angel sings “I made my choice and every night I’m living like there’s no tomorrow” with a grin, showing us how this was still a game for him.

He made his choice staying with Val because he loved him and he thought he was loved in return, when the moth had been only toying with him from the moment they first saw each other. This is Angel’s greatest regret, the fact that he truly believed Val’s lies, that despite all the warning signs he kept choosing him over and over again.

Choosing to stay, to kneel before Val, to obey him with the promise of a new wave of pleasure, a new high. Just as Valentino wanted him to do as we can see the vicious smile he wears during this entire sequence.

I think the next couple of seconds tells us how, for a while, they were together and Angel was still able to keep his job at the club. He was still allowed to see his friends (his coworkers most likely) and spend time with them, while Valentino made sure to feed all his previous bad habits and addictions, giving him gifts (we know Fat Nuggets was a gift from Val), a lot of money he could spend on a whim and eventually, probably the substances to use as well.

The smile on his face, the smugness of it, makes me think he’s telling his friends about this rich guy that pampers him in every way and treats him like a prince. He has found the ultimate Sugar Daddy, a man that has changed his life forever in the best way possible. Now he can have whatever he wants, party for days without having to worry about not having enough money to eat at the end of the month or a place to stay.

Angel would have used drugs before, maybe occasionally, maybe only at parties, maybe to get the worst bits of his job done, maybe he was already a bit of an addict, but it’s now, when he has the means to consume every night that he definitely becomes one.

Valentino made sure of it.

During this time, Valentino would secure the control he had over Angel, weakening his mind and will by worsening his addiction problem while continuing convincing him of how much he loved him. The parties were incredible, the sex was amazing, and Angel felt on top of the world at every moment. He was “living like there’s no tomorrow” without realizing the higher he raised above the ground, the hardest would be his fall.

And maybe this is just me over analyzing a kinky moment, but after this, after Valentino bites Angel causing him a wince of pain and maybe even making him bleed, everything changes.

They are having sex, far from the flashing lights, they are together as Anthony and Val, as the real person who oftenly hides behind his stage persona. The person who is deeply in love with Valentino, who is vulnerable and allows his lover to hurt him however he wants because he trusts that the pleasure that follows will be worth it.

But after that bite, he’s no longer in bed with Val, he's in the same bed from the very beginning of this music video, surrounded by lights, disoriented and confused… As if he was expecting Valentino to be between his legs and not this stranger.

When he finally comes to his senses and sits, we hear for the first time the line “My story’s gonna end with me dead from your poison”. This was the beginning of the end of their honeymoon phase and the point of no return. Valentino had considered Angel weakened enough to take a step further, and a new part of him is finally uncovered when he carefully introduces Angel to the porn industry. He would do so (probably) while Angel was too intoxicated and definitely too blindly in love to know what he was doing.

Valentino becomes this overwhelming shadow that covers Angel’s body, a silhouette he can’t escape from, and when we are shown what Angel sees, we can no longer see the color of Valentino’s clothes. His colorful persona, his facade of playful lover it’s no longer in place, he has stopped pretending and acting as the good boyfriend the spider had always wanted. Now before Angel there’s only the demon that owns thousands of souls, a vicious drooling smile and sharp red eyes. An overlord to fear and be intimidated by.

The background is filled with filming equipment, and even if Valentino’s body language is meant to appear welcoming, Angel feels terrified. This is not the Valentino he knew, and now he is completely trapped. He can’t refuse now, this is a choice he is being forced to make even if his soul still technically belongs to him.

After being pressured, Angel becomes part of this industry, and although he doesn’t really like it, he still trusts Valentino enough to not run away. The overlord can be scary, but he still believes that he’s safe with him, that if Val is by his side nothing wrong could ever happen to him. And after all, he had done sex work before, right? What difference did it make to fuck strangers for money in front of a camera now?

He’s not comfortable, and every day that intimidating side of Valentino that wasn’t really there before grows darker, fiercer and scarier. Angel had seen the ugliness of Valentino before, as a man, as a possessive boyfriend, as a controlling partner, but never as the powerful demon he truly was. So he still obeys Val and features in a few movies of his choice.

We can see these doubts, Angel’s discomfort and even a bit of his trust in Valentino at the beginning of the next sequence, when they appear on the set of a different movie.

Angel was a performer, he had faked his own pleasure before, he could do it again now, and he could do it while earning way more money. He could do so, because he knew Valentino was there, guiding him, helping him, making sure his lover was safe. He always thought that Val was looking out for him, making sure he was getting the right roles in the right movies, the right contracts, and when he was nervous, Valentino was right by his side to comfort him.

But Valentino had never cared about Angel’s safety. And once Angel started to voice his doubts or show his discomfort, he made sure he couldn’t do it for much longer. The comfort Angel sought for was quickly replaced by something chemical, something that eased his nerves but also left him dazed and disoriented.

It was then that Valentino drugged him, tricked him and made him sign the contract that would leave him with only half a soul inside his chest.

Valentino had fed Angel’s addiction for a long time, adding to the mix not only the illusion of a love story, but also his own drug, his sex pollen, something that numbed the spider’s mind enough to go through all the things Valentino wanted him to do in front of the camera. Oftenly Angel was left too intoxicated to respond, too vulnerable and weak. In his last moments of lucidity he always could see Valentino, his lover, the man he thought would always take care of him, turning his back to him and leave him.

Valentino is the last thing he sees before everything fades to black around him, before he disappears. He’s no longer Anthony or Angel Dust, the stage persona, now the lines between those two different identities blurry beyond repair, and the person he becomes is a little more Angel Dust and a lot less Anthony.

I don’t think that it was just a coincidence that they used a BDSM scene to represent the moment Angel definitely lost control of his actions, his body and most likely also his soul. BDSM is all about power dynamics and the control that’s exchanged between consenting partners, only that, in this case, Angel didn’t really have a choice and there was no consent. This lack of control and safety is emphasized precisely by the type of session Angel is forced into.

He’s restrained in every way possible, he’s tied up, a blindfold covers his eyes and a gag is forced onto his mouth, one that would prevent him from closing it no matter how much he tried. He has no way to end the scene, no way to say a safeword, to complain or to stop what other people do with him or to him.

This is meant to represent the moment he signed the contract, and how he felt every time he entered the set of a new movie after he signed it. He stopped being his own person, he had disappeared, and what had been left of him was nothing but a sex toy for Valentino to control in each of his productions.

Now we see the Angel Dust that survived this state of numbness and dissociation, the one that has consumed Anthony just so he could keep himself alive.

While Angel Dust dances, seemingly enjoying the show, performing as he has always done, in the background screens we see what’s left of Anthony, of the boy feeling trapped and used with no single way out of it. This is accompanied by more fragments of that BDSM scene that changed it all, since that was a traumatic event that repeats itself in Angel’s mind every time Valentino forces him into a new role, a new movie, a new lie.

These frames show us not only the stress Angel is feeling, but also how Valentino is always there to exploit his body in the way he deems more profitable. We know this because he appears in between Angel’s anguish, but also because the same eyes that covered his dressing room walls are in the background while someone fucks Angel from behind.

While this happens we hear again “I made my choice”, a reminder of Angel’s regrets, shame and guilt. In addition the line “Every night I’m living like there’s no tomorrow” now has slightly changed, indicating the shift in Angel’s life and condition as no longer a free soul. What we hear now is “Every night I’m wasted like there’s no tomorrow”.

Where once he was happy, he’s now desperate, begging to get a way out.

We see a bit more of the playful performer, Angel Dust, and the pain of Anthony in the background before Valentino approaches him again like a great imposing figure, putting an end to his show.

The second Angel notices Valentino, distress becomes clear all over his face. He points to the left, outside of what we can see, and when he tries to escape, Valentino grabs him and pulls him closer.

He has finally come face to face with the real Valentino in all his twisted glory and he wants to run away. He knows now that what they had wasn’t love, it had never been, and it’s painful. But he’s afraid of Valentino, he can’t do anything to escape his contract and he now belongs to him (at least while they’re on set).

That last frame with Valentino embracing him, a vicious smile on his face in contrast with Angel’s terrified expression puts an end to their story, to the narration of how they came to be what they are now. After that, we are presented to the aftermath, the Angel that’s no longer intoxicated by his poison and can only dread the many past choices he would like to change.

He is now fully aware that there’s no way out of his hell, that for as long as he is alive he will be Valentino’s toy. He’s destroyed in every way, his mind is a mess too dependent on the drugs Valentino has been feeding him to properly think, and his body has stopped to feel as his own a long time ago.

How could he consider that pile of bones, fur and chemically loosen up muscles as his own? He’s disgusted, drowning in this feeling of helplessness.

And he’s even more grossed out when he notices the remains of Valentino’s poison, his drug, still lingering on his tongue. He’s so lost, he doesn’t even recognize himself. This is not where he was supposed to be, he shouldn’t be in Valentino’s apartment, he doesn’t want to be there anymore.

The substance that once had brought him so much joy, such a delicious bliss, now slips past his lips burning his skin like acid. The itch reminds him of the reason why he’s there, and he can only feel pain. The only cause for most of his problems had always been his addiction. To Val, the sex they had, his poison, the drugs he bought for him…

No matter how hard he tries to get used to this life he has with Val now, he simply can’t do it. It doesn’t matter how many movies he appears in, they are never enough, they will never be enough for the overlord. Because he’s nothing but a tool to make Valentino and the other Vs even richer and more powerful.

That’s Valentino’s business and what initially made him get close to Vox. They complimented each other and together they felt capable of ruling Hell like that was their birthright. A power Angel would never get to know firsthand, because for Valentino he was nothing but another whore to use, exploit and eventually discard.

Angel is sick of it, is tired of living a life he hates, a lonely life full of pain and abuse, all caused by the person he loved the most.

He has spent years trapped in the V Tower, watched by the countless cameras placed in every wall and every corner of his prison. Even when he’s not on set, controlled by Valentino and his team, he feels Vox lenses following all of his movements, and despite the luxury he lives in, every day he goes to sleep wishing to never wake up.

That's all, folks. I hope you liked it, or at least got as sad as I felt while analyzing this. Again this is all what I could understand from that segment of the episode I don't know if y'all already knew this but I did wanted to share it. If you liked this check my bird app account bc there is where I spend most of my online time or my Ao3 profile, although I post mostly Skfs content now <3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel analysis #hazbin hotel episode 4 #valangel #valentino x angel dust #hazbin spoilers #hazbin spoilers ep 4 #I could't remain crying on my own so I came to share #valentino's sex pollen is real #poison hazbin hotel

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weixuldo · 9 months

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Pancakes and Pastries

Linecook/Roommate! Anakin x GN!Reader

a/n: this is based on this lovely asks from @ddejavvu (link here). Just a preface, I didn't assign a gender becasue I wasn't sure what the ask implied (if u want me to change it I gladly will :) anyways, other notes will be at the end to clear up more abt the story.

You’re a terrible cook and only sell the baked goods at a small cafe downtown. Thankfully, your roommate, Anakin is an experienced linecook and is ready to make anything for you. Too bad he's a natural flirt, otherwise you might just find yourself falling for him.

Warnings: gn!reader, cursing, banter, no use of y/n

________________________

6:30 a.m

The tiny brass bell above the cafe door dinged continuously as the working crowd came to grab a small bite before heading off to work.

The cafe was filled with the warm aroma of coffee beans and fresh pastries. The display windows held rows of all types of treats; macrons, muffins, strudels, bagels, cookies, toast, and many more. A plethora of coffee makers and different flavorings to cater to each customer’s specific desires, lined the back counter.

Mornings were always pretty busy, you were in the heart of the city after all.

You had gotten up ungodly early to prepare for the day, so once you got everything ready and opened the shop you were pretty tired. But regardless of the exhaustion creeping in, you still had a full shift ahead of you so you needed to put on your best customer service face and seize the day.

Latte, snickerdoodle cookie, iced chai tea with two pumps of vanilla, farmhouse roast with cold foam, 5 assorted macaroons, a slice of key lime pie, a frosted eclair, strawberry crepes. The orders came in waves and you prepared them all.

You weren’t even scheduled today, but your boss called you at the last minute because the new guy got fired for stealing inventory (really what was he stealing? There was nothing but ingredients in the back), so you hauled ass down here.

Sadly today the staff joining you today were rookies, so you had to take orders and keep an eye on them too.

It was bad enough that the bakers in the back were being lazy today, but to deal with new workers who didn’t know the system was even more frustrating.

It was going to be a a long day.

3:50 p.m.

The cafe closed early on Sundays, so you flipped the “we’re open” sign over and got ready to close everything down when you heard a knock on the door.

Whoever that was would just have to stay disappointed because you were too tired to deal with another needy customer right now.

They knocked again and you had to collect a calming breath to make sure you wouldn’t go off on them when you turned around. Much to your surprise behind the glass door was your roommate….your handsome roommate.

Anakin Skywalker was an interesting guy. Deviously handsome looks, insane confidence, witty humor, and radiating charisma.

A few months ago you were apartment hunting but the rates in the city were way too high for you to pay alone, so you put out an ad for a roommate. A lot of the requests you got were from older people and you didn’t exactly feel the most comfortable as a young adult, just starting out, living with someone two or even three times your age.

After a few days you stumbled upon Anakin’s application. Maybe his picture captured your attention… maybe you stalked his instagram to see if he was a serial killer (and to look at more of his pics).... Either way, the two of you obviously ended up living together.

When he first moved in you were worried he would be bringing chicks back every night based on his stunning looks and flirtatious personality, but thankfully you were mistaken.

He was just a normal guy; go to work, come home, shower, eat, sleep, repeat. You didn’t mind that at all, because your routine was basically identical.

A small blush rose to your cheeks as you headed for the door. His hair was held back by a folded black bandana and he had his own apron in hand.

“The door was open, ya know” you said, motioning him into the establishment.

“Oh, the sign was flipped, so I assumed…” he said, motioning to the door.

“Mhmm”

“We are almost closed, but i’ll allow you one purchase, just cause i'm so nice” you teased.

He walked up to the counter and surveyed the sweets, “oh, are you now? If you’re such a kind person, how about giving me a coffee cake on the house, sweetheart?”.

“Woah, woah, woah… you’re asking a bit too much there pretty boy”

He leaned over the counter slightly with a smirk, “aww, you think i’m pretty”.

In response you playfully rolled your eyes, “yuck! It’s just an expression, Skywalker, don’t get an ego about it” .

He grabbed her beaten up wallet out of his back pocket and laughed, “You already know i’ve got an ego”.

“That I do” you quipped back as you grabbed a coffee cake slice

“You love it though” he smiled as he handed you a ten.

Your eyes lingered on his forearm as he offered you the cash, he was a fit guy and the veins on his arms bulged just right; plus he was a line cook, so you knew that he had good dexterity in those pretty fingers too.

“Whatever you say”

You weren’t going to tell him, but you added your 50% off employee discount (since you were on the clock) just ‘cause.

The cash drawer popped open with a ding and you went to hand him back his change.

“You heading back to the apartment?” he asked as he gathered his cake.

“Yea, I’m gonna take a nap, I’m tired as shit. I’m guessing you’re about to go into work?”

He drew his lips into a thin line, “yep, I’m livin’ the dream. Are you gonna get lunch?”

“Probably”

“You should, food is important…Have a good afternoon though”.

You returned the gesture and went back to wiping down the coffee bar when you heard a few clinks and the door closed shortly after.

Your brows furrowed at the speed at which he left, but to be fair his shift was literally starting in two minutes. You walked up to the register to lock it when you saw he had tossed the rest of his ten in the tip jar; a small smile spread across your tired face.

11:02 p.m.

Your sleep schedule was so fucked up from all of these awkward shifts so you were just waking up from your nap (if you can even call it that).

Before you could register what to do next, your stomach let out a hungry growl and you groaned. You forgot to eat lunch and missed dinner so you were starving; sadly, it was grocery shopping weekend for you and you were out of instant meals.

A sandwich then.

You put on a small tank top and some gray shorts and headed to the kitchen. You hated cooking and you weren’t good at it either, so usually you had a salad kit, turkey dinner meal, or a premade acai bowl in the fridge. But since you were out of your usual options, you had to stick with a good ol’ PB&J.

You heard the click of keys in the door and you knew Anakin was back from his shift. Some of you wanted to dash back to your room and just wait until he went to shower to make it; you were lowkey intimidated by him. Before you could leave he noticed you and greeted you.

“Oh, Hey Anakin, how was work?”

“It was fine, the Sunday night rush is insane though, I’m so glad I go in later tomorrow” he groaned, sitting down at one of the barstools in front of the counter.

“You makin’ a little snack?” he asked, leaning over to see the ingredients in front of you.

“It’s more like dinner and lunch-”

His eyes widened, “lunch?! I thought you were getting something on the way back?”.

You shrugged, “I guess I forgot”.

“So you’re going to use a PB&J to supplement two missed meals?” he asked, bewildered.

“Uh huh” you nodded.

“No, no, no…” he muttered as he hopped off the stool and came around the counter beside you.

He took the knife from your hand and began to put the spreads away.

“Hey!” you exclaimed with a frown.

“Listen, If you’re going to break a two meal fast, I’ll be damned if I let you break it with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich” he huffed out a laugh.

“Alright wise guy, what do you suggest instead? We both know I’m a horrible cook”.

He bent down and grabbed a pan from the cabinet and some ground beef.

“What are you doing?” you asked curiously.

“I’m making you some food. Go ahead and sit down, I’ve got this” he said softly as he started up the stove.

“No, it’s really alright Anakin, you just got off of work. You really don’t have-”

“I want to,” he responded.

You stopped talking and took a seat as he maneuvered around the kitchen like he had been here his whole life.

He chopped the beef and while it cooked he mixed spices to season the meat with. You watched him intensely; when he cooked his brows furrowed in concentration and the right one arched ever so slightly.

He lightly bit his bottom lip when he shook the pan to flip the tiny pieces of beef, and the tendons in his pretty hands flexed with every movement.

You really shouldn't be thinking about your roommate this way, but sometimes it was almost impossible not to. Inside, you cursed yourself for even thinking you had a shot with him; he was just a generally flirty guy and acted the same way he did with you when you brought friends over (though he was honestly just being nice). Plus there was no way that you would be his first choice out of all of the people who wanted him.

Anakin stood over the pan and shook out the seasoning he had just made to flavor the meat. Sure, he was tired from a seven hour shift, but this was for you; when it came to you, he would do almost anything.

He wasn’t exactly sure when his little “crush” started, he just knew that it was definitely there. Maybe it was when he realized you worked in the cafe beside his restaurant, so he would pop in as often as he could to grab little sweets; ones he could easily make himself, but he chose to buy them just as an excuse to see you (much to the detriment of his wallet).

Or maybe it was when he realized you discounted all of his purchases.

Or was it those late nights where the two of you would put on movies and share funny commentary whilst sharing a bowl of popcorn.

Or was it simply because of the way you maneuvered through life? Your sunny disposition, wonderful personality, and genuine kindness… plus you were drop dead gorgeous.

Whatever it was, he was locked in… of course he still kinda flirted around, but he was a natural flirt. At this point he couldn’t imagine wanting someone as much as he wanted you, he was entrapped by the possibility of having you in the future.

But of course, being the oblivious guy he is, he had no idea his feelings were reciprocated at all. So he chose not to act on his feelings out of fear of losing his spot in the apartment (if it went bad, you could kick him out and look for a different roommate to replace him).

“It’s done,” he said, turning the oven off and putting the pan on a cool burner.

“What is it?” you asked, walking around to his side.

“It’s meat for a taco,” he said, grabbing some cheese, guac, and lettuce.

“Oh, wow! That’s awesome, you made that so quick!” you exclaimed, looking at the pan.

“Here, let me grab a spoon to get the meat out” he said passing behind you.

Your eyes widened when you felt his strong hands on your waist as he moved past; did you feel that right? Did his hand linger? And why were you feeling hot?

“Here” he handed you the spoon.

“Thanks Anakin, this is really sweet” you said, getting your taco ready.

“No problem roomie” he said in a sing-songy voice.

“And with this you’ll have left overs so you can have lunch tomorrow. Don't forget again” he fake scolded.

“Alright dad” you quipped back.

He laughed and shook his head as he headed back to his room to take a shower. You observed his broad back as his shirt defined his shoulder blades and muscles while he walked.

Fuck. You were getting way too attracted to him.

___________________________

You woke up to a sweet aroma of pancake batter and fresh fruit. It wasn’t often that you and Anakin ever got up around the same time but apparently today was your lucky day.

He truly loved the culinary arts because he never faltered with his ambition to prepare a quality meal. He cooked breakfast a lot, but most times you were already at work and just saw the dishes in the sink or only got to have a quick bite. Though, every so often, on a rare day like this, both of you were able to share a delicious breakfast together (he always made sure to make breakfast for you when he knew you were off).

You walked out of your room with a yawn and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Once you took a seat he handed you a freshly made plate and tossed some strawberries on top.

“Look who finally decided to get up” he joked with a smirk.

You yawned once more, “Listen master chef, if my boss didn’t call me in for every little inconvenience- maybe my sleep schedule might not be as fucked”.

“Fair, fair” he nodded.

“Thanks for breakfast, it looks yummy”

“Of course” he smiled back

You looked at the plate with hungry eyes, it looked amazing, the only other thing you would add was-

“You want some of this, don't you?” Anakin smiled, flaunting a new bottle of whipped cream in front of you.

“Ugh” you rolled your eyes.

“I know how you take your pancakes,” he laughed, “you’re very predictable”.

“Am I?” you said before trying to quickly grab the can from his hand.

He laughed again and raised his arm higher, “that’s not gonna work and you know it.”.

“What can I do to get some whipped cream around here?” you cried comically.

“Well this stuff isn't cheap and we’re going through the largest national whipped cream shortage in history” he said, trying to sound serious.

“Oh, wow that’s tough” you returned with an unamused tone.

“Isn’t it though?” he added.

“I guess if you want some, you’ll just have to pay me” he looked away.

“With what Mr.whipped cream enthusiast? We both make shit money” you exxagerated.

“I may consider non monetary payment… possibly a kiss on the cheek?” he said.

“You want me to kiss you on the cheek?” you asked.

It probably came out more rude than you intended, it was only becasue you were flustered and your tones always got jumbled when you were nervous.

“Well you know what they say, “kiss the chef”. But if you don’t want any whipped cream…” he stated; he was a little nervous that he put himself too out there (he was never the best at subtlety).

“No, no! I want my whipped cream, so I will comply” you said proudly.

“Alright” he smirked.

…

… …

“Are you going to come collect your compensation or just stand there with the bottle in your hand?” you asked playfully.

“Oh, right. How dare I make a customer wait” he smiled, walking towards you.

“You’re so full of shit, Skywalker '' you teased as he bent down so you could kiss his cheek.

He felt butterflies when your soft, pillowy lips landed on his flushed cheek. How he had imagined that feeling.

“Alright, here you are mam” he shot out a dollop.

“That’s it?!” you exclaimed, unsatisfied.

“Each shot is one kiss” he shrugged, “national shortage…remember?”.

“Ugh” you rolled your eyes and continued to kiss his cheek until you were satisfied with the amount on your plate.

“Alright, alright. Thank you for the great customer service, I'll be sure to leave a good review on yelp” you joked as you pushed him away so you could eat in peace.

“Much appreciated, thank you mam” he smiled.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever” you responded, with a light blush tinting your cheeks.

5:30 p.m.

Anakin groaned from his room before entering the living area with his scrunched up apron in hand. HE stopped in his doorway to stretch.

“Man, I really don’t feel like going in today”.

You hummed in acknowledgement, “It shouldn’t be too busy, since its only a monday ''.

“Yeah, I hope so” he said, putting his work shoes on that he kept by the door.

You glanced over your shoulder to look at his muscles rippling as he tied the laces; it was mesmerizing.

He stood and you whipped your head around quicker than you thought was possible.

“Alright, I’ll see you later. It’s my week for trash right?” he asked, grabbing his keys.

“Mhm”

“Ok, I’ll take it out when I get back tonight. Don’t worry, I won’t forget” he smiled before waving a small goodbye and shutting the door.

Something about him was just so homely, he was so sweet and thoughtful; you felt that living with him was just natural at this point.

________________

The restaurant was actually pretty busy when he first arrived, he saw a few party tables as he walked in. Great…

After clocking in, he got straight to work; manning the char grill, making sure all the orders were getting out in a timely manner, and goofing around with the other cooks.

In passing one of the cooks asked how his crush was doing.

“What do you mean?” Anakin innocently asked with a stupid smile on his face.

“Oh, just the one you live with. Ya know, no biggie” he laughed.

“Doing well, I made us breakfast this morning,” Anakin proudly stated.

___

All of the staff knew about Anakin’s not so little thing for you. He had been working at this restaurant for a while and was pretty acquainted with everyone. The cooks all knew abt you because everyone liked to talk in the kitchen, plus some of the other guys were curious about Anakin’s love life, seeing that he was so desirable (all of the waitstaff thought he was fine as hell).

He showed them your instagram when the two of you first started living together and everyone in the kitchen cheered him on.

The waitstaff on the other hand were not so thrilled that the handsome and mysterious line cook already had his sights set on someone else… someone who wasn’t them. Of course they were jealous, but when they got your insta from Anakin, they couldn’t even find anything bad to say about you;l you were stunning.

Doesn’t mean they liked you though…

___

A new order buzzed onto the screen above that had all sorts of modifications; Anakin was about to groan, until he recognized something familiar…

Usually no one asked for a salad without tomatoes and cheese but instead with rice, cucumbers, raspberries, strawberries, and chicken- or cinnamon on their mashed potatoes; there was only one person he knew who ever ordered such a peculiar combination.

You.

The waitress who rang in the order walked by and Anakin caught her attention.

“Hey, the person who ordered thi-”

“Yeah, I know. They’re such a pain. Like, at this point, just make it at home if you want so many modifications” she rambled

He then described your appearance to her and asked if the customer fit the description.

“Yea, sounds like ‘em” she said before carrying on with her work.

He smiled, you came into his place on your day off. Suddenly he felt a warm sensation in his chest.

The waitress came barreling back in and shouted Anakin’s name, “they apparently forgot to say they didn’t want-”

“Butter on the mash” he finished, already knowing what was coming next.

“Yea, how’d you know?” she asked, confused.

“That’s my roommate, I make this for us all the time back at home”.

She gave him a look before walking away to whisper something into another server’s ear. He knew they were then going to go out and judge you because they were jealous. Typical.

He continued to make your plate with care and since it wasn’t busy, even spent time drawing a little hearts with the cinnamon and salad dressing (not very subtle Anakin).

The other cooks notice and start making fun of him and he playfully starts winding up a rag to snap at them.

Once your food has been run he slipped out of the kitchen for a “bathroom” break; obviously everyone knows where he’s going.

He walks out into the front house and is immediately relieved by the cooler AC in there, next he scanned the tables and booths until he spotted your familiar face.

Soon enough he offers himself a seat in the booth opposite of you.

”Anakin!” you exclaim, “You scared me”.

“My apologies Sunshine, Just thought I’d come out and see my favorite customer” he said before winking.

“How’d you even know I was- “ you began before you looked down at your plate and realized.

“Yea, not many people are out here ordering such a peculiar combo” he teased.

“I should have known it was you who made the plate, well with the hearts and all. That must take a lot of time, they were really precise” you said, taking a sip of your water.

He laughed before answering, “I reserve those for very special guests'' (he only did those when you came in).

“Well, I wonder if you do this to persuade certain “people” to cut back on your rent for the month” you arched a playful brow.

He clenched his chest and looked offended, “Of course not! I would never do such a thing”.

You laughed at his stupidity.

He loved making you laugh, it was one of the sweetest sounds he had ever heard.

You saw a few other cooks poking their heads around the wall that divided the kitchen from the seating in curiosity.

“I think your co-workers want you to hurry up” you smiled, pointing towards the entrance to the kitchen.

He let out a sigh, “I guess so”.

As he stood you thanked him for stopping by; “My compliments to the chef” you teased.

“I am always at your service” he dramatically bowed before jogging to the back.

When he left you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Your heart was racing… you were in too deep (but so was he).

Anakin spent the rest of the night happily making orders; he no longer cared he was at work, because you had just made his day.

Everyone in the kitchen began to tease him because he had a certain glow to him and they all knew why.

“When are you finally gonna go on a date?” someone asked him.

“Yea, you seem pretty damn sure about this one” another butted in.

He smiled to himself, “Soon guys. soon…”

***

a/n: The reader likes some weird ass combos lmfaooo. Basically these two are both missing the point that the other likes them. Now to clear up some things, I know cafe's are usually open all day but I needed it to close early for the plot. Also, I worked at a steakhouse and modeled Anakin's work as such just cause its what i'm most familiar with (Ironically I don't eat meat lol).

#anakin star wars #anakin is a little shit #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin #anakin x you #star wars x reader #star wars #darth vader x reader #vader #anakin fic #anakin imagine #linecook #linecook anakin #line cook anakin #answered asks #drabble #sw x reader #sw fic

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moriwood · 7 months

Text

Pornographs — p.js

park jongseong x male reader heavy angst 1.4k words

Two freelance pornstars have gotten awfully close with each other over the past year, masked to their audiences but almost unveiled to each other. Jay, who you suddenly realize to be less familiar than you originally thought, gives you a symbolic gift and a promise you wish he truly keeps.

includes: crying and cringy lines (again oops), people getting reallyyyyyyy personal warning: n/a i think :]]

Your body may not be molded from Ancient Greek statues like your contemporaries in the industry but you know well enough how to manipulate your camera. You know how to position yourself, so that your masked face gently cradles the sunlight and your soft gaze glosses smooth as the silk blanket covering your body.

You assess each of the photos you took and smirk proudly. “Who won’t be salivating over pics like this?” you boast, already seeing the comments flood your mind.

Another photoshoot session has been finished thanks to your friend Jay, who you have been collaborating with for the past year. Your account was only a few months old, with barely a hundred followers watching you strip anonymously. You don’t even know what went into your mind when you decided to meet up with a blank profile but it seems like you hit the jackpot when it turned out to be Jay. It’s not like you were even in the position to be picky about which men you met with back then.

“You good?” you ask Jay as he folds over the hotel’s bedspread that you accidentally stripped off while taking photos a while ago.

He nods, sighing as he lies on the king size bed you share. “Don’t your fans get mad I’m the only other guy in your posts for the past few months?” he curiously asks.

“I mean, they already think we’re dating,” you pause in indignation, “why have you been meeting me exclusively then? For sure, you’ve been receiving offers too left and right.”

“Sorry for them but I have already signed an exclusivity contract with this world-renowned photographer. With his impeccable tastes, I fear nobody can compare,” Jay teases.

You cackle. You would have long forgotten this life of being a social media pornstar had it not been for him. In between the men who only saw you as some toy being passed around, here is Jay who stays, sharing these chaste moments with you, no matter how short it lasts.

Jay grabs the camera from your lap and murmurs to himself, tracing his fingers along the scratches on its plastic body. He meets your eyes with an indiscernible emotion. “You’ve had this camera for so long, don’t you want to replace it?”

“I don’t think I’ve earned enough with this career yet,” you lament, “you don’t know how many meals I skipped to buy this.”

“Isn’t it a great investment though? Like you’re really great with the camera,” Jay explains, “and you can definitely do more than just artistic nudes, like legit filmmaking. Imagine the two of us, co-directing, that type of shit.”

“If I had the money, I wouldn’t be posting nudes of myself online, Jay,” you deadpan. “Why are you even asking? You're gonna sell me a secondhand camera?”

“Nah, just asking. We should be going to college but we’re here… filming porn.”

Jay carefully places your camera on the bedside table and reaches for his carelessly placed backpack on the floor. From it he pulls out a large red box, your gaze immediately drifting towards it.

“Okay, don’t be surprised. I may or may not have something to give you,” Jay smiles.

Your eyes widen as you realize that Jay has bought a new camera, the receipt taped to it rubbing its expensive price to your face.

You howl. “What the fuck? Aren’t we earning the same… You're way richer than I am! You even booked this hotel-”

“Just take this,” he calmly says, placing the bright red box on top of your lap. He then sits beside you, caressing your thigh.

“Why are you even giving me this? What do you need from me? Do I owe you something?” you shyly ask, mesmerized by the details of the new camera Jay just bought. Newly released, might actually be the most expensive model in the market right now. You can’t think of a reason to own something of this kind when all that you’ve taken are these tasteless nude photos.

“Think of it as a birthday gift or something,” Jay hesitantly replies.

“It’s not even my birthday yet,” you whisper, attempting to stop yourself from bursting into tears. You just didn’t expect this generosity from the only person who you’ve let into this taboo life of yours.

“This might be the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” you smile in between your teary eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I’m not asking for anything in return, just…”

Jay is at a loss for words. There’s something wrong, you notice, a lilt in his voice.

“It’s not a birthday gift, is it?” you worriedly ask, your hand over Jay’s.

Jay looks away. “I don’t think… This might be the last time we’re seeing each other.”

Now you’re at a loss for words. Whatever feeling was boiling within the depths of your heart, you never really knew who Jay was. Both of you were about to enter college, both with a fondness for film and photography… and it ends there. You mask yourselves for your audience and even in this inviting bed, there are a lot of things the both of you are unaware of. Seems like this chapter is closing for Jay.

“But we can still see each other-”

Jay closes his eyes, in fear of the pain he cannot avoid. “Just… don’t forget me. Use this camera while I’m gone. Then we’ll meet again, and I’ll be looking at everything. We’ll cross paths, I promise.”

You don’t understand why you’re so confused. You don’t understand why you want to curse the world for not giving you the chance to know Jay in a different context. Your other hand starts to grip on the bedspread, wrinkling it again. You want to know where Jay’s coming from, why he’s even doing this. Had you met him under another circumstance, you wouldn’t be facing this farewell now. You wouldn’t be mulling over where the line is drawn, until where can you walk with him, and until when can the both of you ignore the lines that are slowly being erased.

“But you don’t have to-”

Jay pulls you in as you sob, embracing you tightly. And if his lips meet yours for the first time you’ve been together, nobody says anything about it. Light and sweet, but you taste the bitterness in the salt in your tears. Jay is the first man you’ve kissed. Regret shames you that you only got the chance to reveal each other’s hearts in your final meeting.

“Jay,” you beg, “please.”

You caress his thigh, attempting to touch beneath his shorts. He pulls it back and holds it tightly.

“Let’s not do things we’ll regret,” he whispers, cradling your face with his hand, attempting to wipe away the tears running down your cheeks. “I’ll come back, I’ll make sure of that. And I’ll take you out on a date like you always said you wanted to do.”

This is no longer a simple film of them, a scandal for others to lust over, something to make profit of. No scripts and no acting at play. You know that there is a man who flirts better, kisses better, fucks better, but you don’t want to let him go. You know Jay in an unfamiliar manner, and your relationship grew with him in a way more unknown way. In a different world, you would have loved to love a man like Jay.

You can only whisper, “I hope you’re happy wherever you are, Jay.”

He weakly grins as he kisses you again. “Jongseong. My name’s Jongseong.”

The sun has set, hunger and thirst long forgotten. The both of you soon fall asleep in tears, and you weren’t surprised to find the spot next to you cold the morning after. His traces are nowhere to be found, the only remnants being the photos and videos of a masked man in your camera. His phone number cannot be reached, only his messages of pleasantries remaining. And on top of the bedside table is the new camera gifted by Jay… by Jongseong.

author’s note: here's ur jay fic @ldrei 🤗 i actually got a reason ready for why jay did what he did, just gotta handle my own college shit rn before i flesh it out i apologize ✨

— moriwood.

#enhypen x male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #enhypen x reader #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong x male reader #angst #heavy angst #flash fiction #jay x male reader #jay x reader #mori fics

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plleeeepppyyyy · 1 year

Note

I have a request if you’re doing any!!

Wally Darling x Rockstar Reader

I don’t care what you do with this but I hope you enjoy it!!

Reader is the singer and dancer of the neighborhood! Very happy go lucky, loving, and even a little clumsy. Yet always calm during making music

Which I can picture reader being a great muse. And reader singing a lot to Wally.

this was def fun to write!! all the ideas and cutesy stuff came to me in a flash ngl.. (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`)

really cute request!! you guys are so creative with these,,,(•̀ᴗ•́)و

wally + singer/rock star reader!

♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪

♬♫♬♫♬♫♬♫♬♫♬♫♬♫♬♫♬♫

••••••••••••••

•this man,,, god,, this man.

•he’s literally ur number one fan girl. he’s there for every performance, writings, everything. you name it he’s there!

•wally just loves watching you in the process of making music, its like an art! to him, it’s wonderful of how passionate you are about it. he adores watching you almost trip on a cord as you just jam out,, doesn’t matter how clumsy you are,, you’re just elegant to him. seeing you so peaceful as you strum on a guitar or something.. 🫶 (if he had a camera he would take a pic of you 200x)

•literally every-time you come up to him with ur newest draft of a song, he gets so excited!! that inner fangirl comes out.,, wally is pretty honest when it comes to stuff. but he just can’t help himself, every song, draft, album,, literally all perfection to him. you cannot do no wrong with that. he buys all of your stuff if you ever sell it. (prolly got a shrine.)

•if you ever write a song based on him,, he would actually cry out of happiness, at least be on the verge of it. you just give the song to him and he’s just like, “it’s so perfect,,,, tysm,,” while he’s on the verge of letting it out. he’ll listen to it every day. :) <3

•bonus points if you write it for your guys’ one year anniversary! that man will be so happy,, he probably would let a few tears out too..,,. like you used your creativeness on little old him?!(!(ಡ‸ಡ) wally would cherish the hell out of that song, he can just mumble out a praise as he’s about to ugly cry. like.. THANK YOU?!(!? (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`)

•he’ll just grab a hold of you and not let go,, it just makes him feel so happy. he’ll probably cry into ur shirt tho,,

•if you ever had some albums posted out or whatnot, he will put them on his wall. wally would prolly accidentally buy out the whole thing,, like cmon, he’s has to use some of them for display and hearing!! ( ˘ ³˘)

•ur his main inspiration for his art too,, seeing you so into doing what u do, gibes him strength. he will ABSOLUTELY paint tf outta you! literally you guys would be in the same room while he sketches and you just strum your guitar or smth, ack he’s a sucker for moments like those. ur for sure his muse. got ten whole folders of drawings and projects that are meant for you.

•he might even call you his muse tooo! :)

•he asked you once what type of music you were doing and you prolly replied with a random genre he’s never heard up,, and he’d just be like. “ah, that’s wonderful.. can’t wait to hear it.”

•he do NOT give a care,, any genre in his eyes and ears it’s perfection. like said before, you do wrong.

•if ur the type to do sad songs, he’s a little worried. like bby what’s got you so sad? :(

•sometimes (if you offer) he also does stuff with you. to him he thinks he’s better at playing instruments, which is lie he’s hella good at singing.

•he’ll give you ideas, suggestions; whatever you need!

•i literally will say it here, ya’ll do duets with each other. especially with old timey love songs, it’s just cute,,, a bit sappy. but who cares, I IMAGINE you two just singing together. (bonus points if he’s playing a piano,, well trying to,, he needs some practice..)

•every time you put on a performance,, he just sits there with the dopiest smile on with lovestruck written all over him. bro is VERY in love, he could listen to you alll day. if he had a tail it would be wagging. he will never take his eyes off either, all of his attention is on you, just you.

•even if you got a recording studio, he admires how much you get into the music. its so amusing seeing you be so calm during the whole process of making a song, but when you perform your songs. like thats my baby fr!!! wally is ur number one hype man,, i mean this all the way.

(i feel like hes such a sucker for singers,,)

•if ur in a nice suit, dress; whatever while ur singing, agh.. this man is knocked out. ur soo gorgeous,, and you sing?! like, sorry, wally is just in love.

•after one of your performances, once he sees you walking to him, all giddy and stuff. wally ain’t letting you go once you run into his arms, he will keep his arms around you as you just ask if he liked it, thought it was great,, while he’s just nodding and mumbling praises to you. (it’s honestly so sweet to watch you two.) if ur wearing heels or boots, you’re probably towering over him as this happens,, (i honestly find this so sweet, ur jus towering over him, asking him excitedly if he loved it, while he’s just practically sings praises to you. so sweet,,)

•to pick up the instrument part, he will totally help you with demos and drafts by playing the music for you. he’s pretty average on most instruments and would totally drop whatever he had and help you out! (will def help you out with drums, i think its canon that its his main thing,,)

•sing him to sleep, please,, he will eat that up. if you do, he’ll sleep so fast. as said before by me, i don’t think he sleeps much. but with ur singing? knocked out, my brother is dead asleep. what can he say? you’re just a good singer.

•honestly to him, ur like a siren. you’re just too good to be true and sing beautifully. corny he knows but,,, its true <3 (to him.)

•even house loves your singing! if wally needed the help he would call you and try to make house stop with ur singing,,

•the first time he’s ever heard you sing, his mind was blown. how did you sing that good? like all of his other friends could sing,, but you were just different. you sounded different, did things differently.. ack. he fell in love with your voice. as he listened to one of ur song’s for the first time, and ur just anxious. wondering if he’ll like it, or not.. he turns to you. blank stare, and says, “this is the best music i’ve ever heard,, ur so talented..” with just pure adoration and fondness in his eyes.

•which got you SO HAPPY, he loved your songs!!!! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

•sometimes if he feels a bit snarky that day, he’ll brag a bit. just all like, “my s/o is a beautiful singer,, can YOU sing that good? they’re so amazing at what they do, no one can compare…” wally is sometimes a bit of a prick (╥_╥)

•never a prick to you tho, said it before i’ll say it again, to him you do no wrong, see no wrong, hear no wrong, speak no wrong. 🫶

•he makes sure you know that you’ll always be in his corner, all of the time, being ur numba one fangirl! (✯◡✯)

•wally definitely tried making a song for you too,, didn’t go right tho. (٥⁀▽⁀ )

(seriously this dude is crazed over you.)

•you always make sure he’s the first one to hear your songs, after writing a draft you sprint to him and show him it. it makes him so excited too, cause like.. how did he get so lucky that he’s the first person to look and hear your talent?

•this dude just adores you, so much.. like what’s not to love? to him you’re just the peak definition of passion, he enjoys watching you have fun and play music. wally is sorta taking this into seriousness,, but he can’t help it!! he can’t get over how he bagged you, this person who’s a whole peak of inspiration for him. ❤︎︎

•he just loves to support and cherish you, i won’t lie but he’s basically a lovestruck puppy who watches you and everything you do. everyone in the neighborhood can tell.. (¯ ³¯)♡

__________

ACK,, okay i got a bit carried away on some points, but they were jus too cute to not put in.

BUT 1000 NOTES ON EACH OF MY FICSSs?!?! thats insane, thank you guys sm!! (╥_╥) i didn’t think i would get that much positive feedback for these, im rlly glad you guys are liking these!

hope you enjoyed reading this one! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

#wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home #welcome home arg #this request got me alll sappy(٥⁀▽⁀ )

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strafepanzer · 2 years

Text

atmospheric | act i: cumulus

masterlist | act i | act ii | act iii

a @mybigbangacademia collab with @54prowl

rating: explicit (for future themes)

word count: 9.4k

tags: katsuki’s sailor tongue, staged (and non-staged) meet cutes, mentions of grief

a/n: oh my lord, i thought this would never come to fruition! i wanna thank @kweenkatsuki @kingkatsuki @karikarasuno and especially @54prowl for keeping me sane throughout this! thank you for reading my stuff and screaming about it and helping me through writers block and just being there for me when i was at my most anxious. i adore you all so so much!

“Hell fucking no.” Katsuki laughs. Laughs at the gall, at the sheer audacity. “I don’t need this. Why the fuck would I need this?”

His publicist shares a look with the rep from The Hero Commission. “Bakugo,” she takes a breath, clenches her jaw a little. He’s known Kira for a long time, knows she honestly tries to do what’s best for him, what he needs. “You could be number one.” She states confidently. “And I’m gonna be candid here, because we’re not strangers; I’ve been with you for six long years,” she doesn’t break eye contact with him, if anything she leans into him more. “I’m frustrated. It’s goddamn frustrating watching you sit at six. Six? You’re Dynamight.”

“That’s right!” The rep all but throws his hands up in the air. “Dynamight! You always catch the bad guy! Your merch is one of our best selling lines, you always file your work correctly— and on time!” He stresses, blue eyes as big and bright as All Might’s were. “Your issue is popularity, the polls; you don’t take fan pics, you don’t sign merch—“

“That’s not the point of bein’ a fucking hero—“

“We don’t want you to change, Bakugo, that’s the whole point of this. You don’t have to become a whole different person; in fact, we don’t really expect you to do much, especially during the first few months of the project.” The Project. He wants to snort, to cross his arms and lean back in his chair, show his disinterest; but, shit, he’d be a fucking liar if he didn’t admit sitting at six didn’t drive him up the wall.

“It’ll just start with a chance meeting here, another there, just so social media can get wind of it, and rumours can spread.” Kira relaxes a little, frown lines evening out as she takes in Anderson’s excited vibes. Katsuki huffs a little, meets her eyes. “We’ve had a team working on your story for a while.”

“Story…” he tests the word in his mouth as his brows draw together. “So there’s a script?”

“We have a timeline and set meetings,” Anderson smiles, leaning back in his chair. “Some social media stories we’ll need you to post, more she has to post; but as far as a script goes… it’s more of the direction we need you to go in.”

Katsuki sighs, grabs the surprisingly heavy booklet they presented to him earlier in the meeting. GOLDFISH takes up most of the cover page in giant letters, a corny TOP SECRET stamped in red takes up the rest of it; fucking stupid, dramatic, pretentious Hero Commission shit. He flips through the pages, glosses over the words until he gets to a sub heading titled Chance Meeting One.

They’re lucky he doesn’t peg the fucking book at Anderson.

Subject A bumps into Subject B on the red carpet. Subject B stumbles, Subject A steadies them, asks if they are okay. The two share a look, then get back to business. Paparazzi in the vicinity—

“So, if I’m subject A, who’s the mysterious Subject B?” His voice is dripping in sarcasm as he tosses the book back onto the table. He’s mildly surprised— concerned, even?— when neither of them jump to tell him.

“We can’t… tell you… until you sign the contract.” Kira says quietly, the nerves he’s so accustomed to seeing, creeping back onto her face.

His scowl must deepen astronomically, because she turns to Anderson with her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You’re not the only hero suffering in the popularity polls.” Anderson shrugs, gesturing with his hands. “Kira’s just been meticulous about you getting the boost. In reality, this would be a good deal for all of the top 10 heroes.”

Katsuki feels his eye twitch.

“Shouto, for example, isn’t that great with social cues, tends to shy away from media; he’s already at three, we could get him higher.” Anderson is 100% goading him, and Katsuki knows it, but it’s working.

“Is she a hero?”

“No,” his agent says confidently. “She’s not in the business, not a part of the commission either.”

“She’s well-loved, fawned over. Attractive.” Anderson turns to Kira. “Would you say so?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. We’d never set you up for failure, Bakugo, I can promise you that.”

“I don’t care what she looks like,” he huffs, slightly agitated. “I just don’t wanna drop in the polls.” He grumbles, glare set on Anderson. “Do they know it’s me?”

“Nope, she just knows you’re a hero.” He answers with a toothy smile.

Katsuki presses on. “Does she know I’m in top 10?”

“Her contract states it’ll be a hero in the top 50.” He shoots back, unblinking.

“Just say yes Bakugo, I promise it’ll be worth it.” Kira interjects, eyes hopeful. “And hey, you might actually really like her.”

Katsuki’s snort of laughter is loud. “Doubt it.” He grabs the book and flicks through the pages again, what’s the harm in taking it home and having a read? “Do I have to decide now?”

“Yes.” They answer together, Anderson steadfast and Kira flat.

“Really?”

“No time like the present.” The rep shrugs, the Cheshire grin on his face only growing with Katsuki’s frustration.

“You’re a real fucking ass you know that?” The hero grumbles, throwing his glare over his shoulder, pretending to be interested in the view of the setting sun from their vantage point on the 47th floor of the Hero Commission.

“The sooner you sign, the sooner we get the ball rolling.” Anderson drums the table like a fucking salesman.

And Katsuki signs the contract.

—

Katsuki still lives in the same apartment he bought when he was a rookie. Granted, back then this place was far too good for him, with its timber floorboards, prime location, and it’s five burner stainless steel natural gas cooktop. The previous owner was selling to move abroad; a retired chef who allowed Katsuki a walkthrough of the place as a ‘favour’ to one of Aizawa’s friends.

She—the chef— must’ve seen something in Katsuki when his eyes roamed the sparkling appliances, the range hood, the dishwasher, the fridge, because she accepted his offer, and he’d moved in the next week. It wasn’t until Eijirou had mentioned a couple months into living there, that his bathroom tiles were pink, that Katsuki had even noticed; that’s just how smitten he was with that fucking kitchen.

Now, years later, he feels shitty looking at his commercial grade kitchen.

When was the last time he cooked? Shit, the only time he even uses his kitchen is when he makes himself an instant coffee before work, or reheats takeout from the night before. He’s so busy at TDA, so busy bagging baddies and fighting crime and filing fucking paperwork that he’s gotta eat and run, with the shitty haired idiot eating into his days off with god damned babysitting duties at his place.

Katsuki sinks into the worn leather of his camel coloured couch, A4 envelope in his hand. He should open it, should find out who exactly this mystery girl is, should prepare. Instead, he sighs, tosses the crisp wad of paper onto the seat next to him, runs a hand down his face.

If even one person finds out he’s doing this, he’s over.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands drawing down his face, crimson staring into the white of his ceiling, the elaborate cornices joining the muted grey of his walls. Bare walls.

The chef had paintings on the walls, heavy velvet curtains over the windows, colourful rugs, buffets covered in photos, house plants, and so much furniture. But Katsuki— young and pretentious— didn’t get that. He liked how huge the apartment seemed without it all, how high the ceilings felt, how large the rooms were.

Now, as much as he’s loathe to admit it, it feels kinda lonely.

But, he’ll do what he usually does when that nagging emptiness nips at his ankles, when he’s alone and actually feeling it: he’ll head to TDA. He’ll get to work, ignore Deku and that half and half bastard when they tell him they’ve got everything covered, ignore sparky when he teases him about not having a life, ignore pink cheeks when she reminds him for the millionth time he’s not getting paid overtime.

With a heaved sigh, he sits forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. That envelope glares at him from the other side of the two seater lounge, sitting there as if it’s some kind of placeholder, as if the girl herself is going to materialise next to him if he dares to open it.

He doesn’t open it.

—

TDA—The Deku Agency (yeah, stupid fucking name)— is lively in the afternoons. Heroes and rookies mingle with civvies in the foyer, sitting at cozy little tables and ordering overpriced drinks and cakes from the café Deku had installed in the far corner of the lobby in a bid to improve relations between them. The Commission loved it.

Katsuki uses the back door.

He takes the maintenance elevator up to the office floor and wordlessly finds his desk, revels in the pssssssht as he sinks into the bright orange, high-backed ergolux. It’s comfy for an office chair, just the right amount of worn in, without the irritation of squeaky screws his old chair had.

“Don’t you have today off?” Icyhot’s glare is blank, cold soba (probably) noodles suspended between the chopsticks held at lip level.

“None’a your business, half ‘n’ half.” Katsuki glares back heatedly, spinning in his chair to face his monitor. It, too, is… orange. Just like Deku’s is broccoli green, and round cheeks’ is pink, and fucking half ‘n’ half’s is… half red, half icy blue. According to Deku, some computer company brought out a whole range of hero inspired computers in a collab with the Commission and he just had to get one for everyone; with matching chairs.

The colours throw off the serenity the floor could have, with its glossy white floors, floor to ceiling windows, the greenery delicately placed around the space. But, that’s Deku and Pink Cheeks to a tee, and the icyhot asshole just goes along with whatever half-baked plan the two of them conspire.

“Was it expensive?” Todoroki presses, those eyes still staring holes into Katsuki.

“Haah?” He knows he shouldn’t rise to the bait, but he’s tense as it is, so that red glare of his is burning through Shouto in an instant.

“The fine? Property damage, Uraraka thinks, but my money’s on defamation?” He says it with such disinterest, that it almost takes Katsuki off guard.

“It was a meeting, dipshit; about my career. I don’t have any outstanding fines.” He almost snarls, irritation a growling monster in his gut. “Asshole.” He adds, filing away Ochako’s involvement in the back of his mind. He’ll call her out for it later; she’s always the one putting ridiculous ideas in that two-toned space cadet’s head.

“Ah, sorry.” He hears him mumble back, followed by a loud slurp that makes Katsuki’s left eye twitch.

“You should be.” The blonde huffs, irritation mounting at the lack of sincerity in his voice. “Who the hell did you think was suing me?”

“Hm? Didn’t you badmouth Grand on Twitter last week?”

Katsuki actually laughs. “If that asshole wants to go to battle, he’ll need to be ready for fucking war.”

“What was the meeting about, then? Your public image? Are they mad at you?”

Yes and no.

“You’re awfully chatty today.”

“Well, I’m having a meeting next week,” Shouto admits, piquing Katsuki’s interest; he swivels in his chair, watches his friend as he plays with his noodles absentmindedly. “Just… Don’t know what to expect.”

“Oh.” Is all Katsuki can really say. He vaguely remembers Shouto mentioning something about almost slipping in the polls, and although he’s higher than Katsuki, he bets his own agent’s been getting a beat down from the Commission. While they don’t really care who sits at number one, they do care when merch sales drop and social media interaction is low.

“I just hate… all of that extra stuff. All of the unnecessary competition that comes along with this job. Reminds me of… Father.” As if sensing he’s stepped a foot wrong (for once in his life), Shouto mumbles a sorry and turns back towards his computer screen.

Normally, a mention of Shouto’s father leaves a bittersweet taste in Katsuki’s mouth, has him turning cheek to cheer his friend up in his own asshole-y way… but guilt nips at his heels. Guilt that his contract might actually have him surpassing Shouto with a leg-up Katsuki doesn’t technically need. Katsuki isn’t Shouto; he’s a prick on purpose, not out of childhood trauma-induced ignorance. Katsuki knows that the things he says and his shitty actions have god damned consequences.

Todoroki’s just a little weird.

Fuck, another reason to feel shitty about signing that fucking contract.

After a few moments, Shouto’s slurping starts again, giving Katsuki the green light to get his head out of his ass. He turns back to his own computer, taps the space bar a few times to wake it up, and logs into the portal.

Time to catch up on some incident reports.

—

The Kirishima Household is lovely. Pro Hero Red Riot bought a place out in the ‘burbs when he got married, a semi-renovated two-storey place with a yard. It’s hard to find a place with a yard so close to the city, especially on rookie hero wages. The place has three bedrooms upstairs, with the living and dining, kitchen, and bath and toilet downstairs; Eijirou’s been trying to convince Katsuki to claim the third bedroom as his, even bought him an alarm clock and an All Might sheet set for the bed, but Katsuki chronically takes the couch.

When he comes over the night before the Gala to watch Akari, the father-daughter duo are playing MarioKart. Katsuki shakes his head at them— concealing his grin— and takes his groceries to the kitchen, set on making dinner for the two of them before Ei has to head off to work.

He must be thinking too hard, the anxiety of the Gala etched on his face, because Eijirou is hovering.

The red head’s also giving him the look.

Between serving his little girl dinner— which Katsuki assured him, he could do— getting his shit together for his shift, and making small talk with Katsuki, he keeps staring. It’s the goading look; the one that says: hey man, I know something’s wrong, but you’re just gonna say nothin’ if I ask, so I’m gonna need you to tell me.

Katsuki’s not gonna tell him.

He can’t.

What, just come out with a: yeah, I actually accepted an offer from the Commission to fake date someone in order for my public perception to improve, so I’ll climb the popularity polls. No chance in hell; not even if the place froze over.

Sure, if anyone were to understand, it’d probably be Eijirou. Either him, Deku, or Shouto, but… he just can’t. Especially with Red Riot sitting at number 8.

Katsuki has to usher him out the door at 6pm, has to pretend he’s fine, and that nothing’s bothering him; he even tries to give Ei a reassuring smile as he hops on his motorbike, but thinking back on that moment, it probably only worsens his perception of Katsuki. Since when does he smile and wave him off to work?

Shit.

He settles onto the sofa next to Ei’s mini me after tidying the kitchen and tossing a load of laundry in the wash. A replay of the morning news should relax him a little, should take his mind off this stupid Gala, the stupid red carpet, the stupid fucking contractual dating.

The news anchors are achingly boring, droning on about the finance sector, the stock market; Deku’s into all that shit, pulled Katsuki into investing almost a decade ago. The idiot even told Katsuki not to waste his first hero pay check on stupid stuff… then went ahead and bought some 160,000Y All Might figure that looked achingly out of place on his coffee table in his tiny loft studio apartment.

Then he’s on the news, a flash of blonde and green and orange flying through the sky. He’d apprehended a villain last night, and the news loves reporting on all of the property damage that usually comes along with Katsuki’s quirk; he’s gotten so good at holding back, but since signing the contract, he knows he’s been acting a little more recklessly. And of course, snakey fucking journalists have to jump on that. Reminds him how much he fucking hates the news.

At least the weather girl’s cute.

“Uncle Kats? You okay?” Akari blinks, looking up from her iPad. She’s the spit out of her father’s mouth with those big red eyes and inky black hair, not to mention how much she loves Katsuki. Must run in the Kirishima genes.

“Why d’ya ask, kiddo?”

“I knew it,” she sighs, pulling her feet underneath her as she locks her iPad. “Dad’s got another girlfriend, doesn’t he? You always get weird like this when he’s seeing someone.”

Katsuki snorts laughter. “Always? Your dad has dated two people since you’ve been alive.”

“You’re acting weird!” She argues, arms gesturing wildly.

“You’re ten, you have no idea what weird even is.” He brushes her off, hoping to relive her of her street, but unable to do it nicely. He doesn’t really do nice.

“Dad was staring at you funny, and you were being weird.” She scrunches her little nose up at him, and Katsuki knows he’s not getting out of this conversation without putting a little bit of work in.

“Your dad stares at me funny all the time, squirt; you should’ve seen him when we were in high school.”

“He looked worried.” Akari frowns, because it is strange when Ei’s not being carefree.

Still, he’s gonna pretend he didn’t notice. “Did he?”

“Yeah and you did too!” She accuses, voice rising, annoyed. “Like, right up until now”

“So, because we both look worried, your dad’s dating again.” Its not a question, it’s her conclusion.

“Yeah, because he’s worried you’ll tell me, and you’re worried you have to keep it a secret. You don’t, by the way, I’m double digits now, so you can trust me with your secrets, I promise, Uncle Kats.” She bats those lashes at him, eyes shining with what he can only call mirth. The one thing she seemed to pick up from Katsuki after all these years babysitting.

He sighs, midway between impressed at her reasoning skills, and bummed that he can’t give her the answers she’s looking for. Still, he lets out a low whistle. “Double digits, huh? Sounds like you’re too old to hang out with Uncle Kats at the parlour.”

Seems like redirection still works for pre-teens, because her ruby reds light up like it’s Christmas. “You said you’re too famous to go out in public!”

“Are you arguing with ice cream, squirt?” He fakes a glower, sends her a little glare that can only be taken as playful.

“No way!” She bounces from the couch and practically runs to the landing. “I’m just gonna put my coat and shoes on!” She calls, talking way too fast. But then her little face pokes back around the corner, brows furrowed. “No take-backs.” She glares, wary.

He sighs, rubs a huge scarred hand over his too tired face. “No take backs.” He shrugs, shaking his head.

Akari seems content to leave his sight after that, her fast footfalls trekking up the stairs, her bedroom door slamming open. Meanwhile, he sinks a little into the sofa, annoyed with himself; mostly for acting so obviously emotional in front of a child, but also for promising her ice cream.

Looks like a beanie, face mask, and sunglasses type of night.

—

Eijirou rolls up the driveway a long thirteen hours after he left.

Katsuki’s made Eijirou a decaf tea— he’s gotta sleep today, and all that— and he’s stirring his coffee with a teaspoon as he leans against the countertop in the kitchen, eyes on the front door in anticipation. He needs to talk to him, needs to reassure his best friend that he’s okay, that there’s not really anything wrong.

Tell him what’s going on without explicitly telling him what’s going on.

“Daddy’s home!” He calls, bursting into the house with far too much energy for coming off an overnight shift.

“Dude, she’s asleep.”

“What?” His face falls, eyes darting around the kitchen like Katsuki’s telling lies. “It’s seven am, she’s got school this morning.” He grows more panicked by the second. “The bus gets here at seven-fifty—“

“Eiji, c’mon, all she’s gotta do is get up, get dressed, and eat breakfast.” Katsuki grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“How are you letting her sleep in? I knew it, something’s wrong. You were acting so weird last night, but this is… this is worse.” He dumps his work bag at his feet, puts his hands on his hips and gives him those god damn puppy eyes that are generally reserved for begging Katsuki to go somewhere with him. “You’re harder on her schedule than I am, Katsuki.”

Katsuki sighs, steps over to rinse his teaspoon in the sink. “I took her out for ice cream last night, and we stayed out past her bedtime, so I told her I’d let her sleep in until seven-thirty.” He picks up Eijirou’s tea, hold it out for him to take. “I’m fine, really, it’s just a work thing.”

Eijirou accepts the mug, takes a few steps to sit at his four-seater dining table. “A work thing you can’t tell your best bud about.”

“It’s—“ Katsuki hesitates, taking his coffee with him to joint Eijirou at the table. “The Hero Gala is coming up, and Kira is making me go. You know how I hate doing publicity shit.” Not a lie. It’s true, he has to go to the pretentious fucking Hero Gala, and he hates all that stupid shit, and, yeah maybe there’s something else going on at the Gala, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he doesn’t wanna go.

Eiji’s mouth hangs open. “That’s it?”

“Hah?” Katsuki glares.

“You’re freaking out about the Gala?”

“Do you blame me?”

“No, I— geez, Kats, I actually thought there was something eating at your soul. You looked like you made a deal with a crossroads demon or something.” He shakes his head of whatever thoughts he’s been having and lets out a laugh, takes a sip of his tea.

Eijirou has no idea just how on the money he actually is.

“Nah, I just don’t know what to wear, how to act. You know how I can get with camera flashes.” He sighs, remembering the last press release he went to— all of the cameras and loud noises, and… fuck, it’s uncomfortable, and reminds him of being out in battle. Maybe he actually needs to get onto someone about PTSD like shitty Deku keeps suggesting.

Eijirou lets out a breath, the weight falling off his shoulders. “Well, you’ve always looked good in red; brings out your eyes.”

Katsuki chuckles then. “You’re a biased little shit, Ei.”

“I know.”

—

The Gala is everything Katsuki expects it to be: loud, crowded, and brightly lit. Paparazzi and fans line the streets for blocks leading to the venue, and it makes his nose twitch. He’s not the best with his public image, but tonight he has to at least try. Has to put in some goddamn effort.

Not only for himself, but for TDA, for his… to be girlfriend.

God, it even sounds fucking stupid in his head.

He drove himself, the plan to pull up in the valet cue and open the envelope, prepare then. In hindsight it’s pretty last minute, but knowing a name threatened over overthinking on his part. He’s never really been known for his level head, and in that respect, he’s his worst enemy.

He’d argued with Kira a couple of days ago about a pre-meeting meeting, something to ease his anxiety, somewhere for him to meet this woman and form some kind of fool-proof game plan; but he was shot down.

What if a pap sees them entering the same building before they even meet?

That’ll ruin the meet-cute for the fans, destroy everything the commission worked hard to create. Which is fair, honestly; she’d asked him if he read the plan, reminded him that until they can’t even have phone contact until the third meet just in case anyone catches wind of anything.

Stupid Commission and their goddamn paranoia.

So as Katsuki sits in the cue, venue a beacon of light a couple a blocks away, he opens the centre console of Maserati Gran Turismo and pulls out the envelope, unrolls it and flattens it against his thighs. This is it, no time to mull over the results, because as he idles, the cue slowly rolls forward, bringing him closer to the Gala by the minute.

As calloused fingers carefully pull at the tab, his mind races. He thinks about just how long he’s waited for this moment, how on edge he’s been since he scribbled his signature at the bottom of that contract. As much as he’s loathe to admit it, he needs to do a good job with this, needs to put in the effort, needs to milk it for all its worth.

For some reason, he thinks back to Shouto sitting in his office chair, clearly worried about his own standings in the ranks, looking sorry as hell. He wonders how Shouto’d feel if Anderson were sitting across from him at the table, offering him help he doesn’t quite need, giving him an opportunity he might not be fit to take.

But, shit, that worrying? It’s so unnecessary. Icyhot might not have even wanted to sign the fucking contract. Sometimes Katsuki doesn’t give him the credit he deserves.

He tugs the paper from the envelope and scans the page.

Your name sits there in bold block letters.

But he has no idea who the fuck you are.

Kira’s got his phone and wallet in her bag so he can comfortably walk the carpet, so he can’t even Google who the hell you are. He says your name over and over in his brain, trying to light up electrodes, trying to think of anything that could bring a face to your name.

“Fuck,” he hisses, reading the name again, skimming through the document. There’s nothing there about you, no occupation, no bio, no nothing. “Fuck.” He growls, glancing up to see the venue way closer than he anticipated.

It’s fine. It’s fine because no other person would even think about bumping into Dynamight, not even on accident. This woman is going to knock into him, he’s going to steady her, not glare at her, and then it’ll be over. He can do this.

It’s going to be fine.

By the time he realises he’s shaking his leg, he’s the fourth car in the cue. He remembers the wise words of wisdom Ei shot him as he left his house that morning: you’re gonna look good, bro; just don’t blow anyone up.

He checks his hair in the rear view mirror, makes sure the lapel of his deep, deep red suit jacket is laying nicely against the matte black if his dress shirt, that his black silken tie is sitting centre. He didn’t wanna wear red, but Kira agreed with Ei, insisted it brought out the ruby of his eyes, and would make it easier for the girl to spot him.

For you to spot him.

Fuck, he’s next.

When the limo in front of him drives away, he rolls up until he’s gestured to stop, puts the car in park and presses the handbrake on. At least the anxiety of meeting you and following this script is taking his mind off how much he hates red carpets.

Oh, great, he’s gonna blend into the fucking flooring.

“Dynamight, big fan,” the valet— tall, lanky, cat-like— opens his door, gestures widely for him to exit the car.

“Hey, thanks,” Katsuki nods, points to the button to the left of the steering wheel. “Handbrake’s on; don’t drop the clutch too fast or you’ll stall her.” He explains as he slides out of the seat, stands tall to meet the valet’s eyes. He’s still a couple of inches taller.

“I will be very gentle with her, I promise.” He grins, holding a ticket out for Katsuki as he shoves his hands into his pants pockets, lifts his chin as if assessing the slightly shorter man.

Then— deeming his valet adequate— Katsuki takes the ticket, slides it into his pocket, and nods him a good night.

When Katsuki turns towards the golden— not red, thank god— carpet, it’s as if someone’s just unmuted the television; it’s suddenly way too loud, his name being screamed from all angles, camera flashes blinding him, people crowding him. He’s ushered to the first little black X taped to the carpet by a busy little woman in a black suit, is briefly told to pause and pose for pics, before she hurries off in a blur.

He straightens a little, softens the agitation on his face a bit, but doesn’t smile. Why the hell would he? The paps are all desperately calling a mixture of his last name and his hero name, shouting at him like he’s some kind of prized pony, and he hates it. He hates the showboating, loathes the OTT smiling.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Kira, her dress a tight purple bodice with a midi length circle skirt; she’s got a headset on, just like the other PA’s and Gala staff, and a black satchel bag slung across her torso. She beams when their eyes meet, but gestures for him to keep posing, uses her pointer fingers to elongate the smile on her own face, then loudly mouths smile.

The audacity of her has a smirk sliding onto his face, and he glances at the paps for a bit, before heading towards her.

“You look good!” She beams, dusting absolutely nothing from his shoulders and looking up at him like a proud mama. “Are you ready?” She leans up to ask him, voice more muted than before.

“Yeah, I just—“ he glances around, leans down to her ear. “I don’t know who she is.”

“Huh? Really?” Kira’s eyes almost bug our of her head. “What do you mean?”

“Shit, I—“

“Bakugo Katsuki willingly participating in a photo op? I think my depression is cured.” Katsuki would know that low drawl anywhere, his gut instinct affirmed when he’s met with lazy lavender eyes, and a just as lazy smirk.

“Shinsou?” Katsuki’s eyes widen. Last he heard about mindfreak, he was working the underground, so seeing him here is kind of throwing him off.

“Nice threads; when did hell freeze over?” Shinsou’s purple hair is in a messy bun, showing off a faded undercut, his suit pirate-esque with a too-open white shirt, brown suspenders and matching brown slacks.

“Funny. Who are you here with?” Katsuki snips, looking around for a possible date.

“What, am I not famous enough to work the golden carpet?” He snips in return. “You caught me, I’m here with Denks.” Then he nods behind him, at Kaminari who’s looking in his element in fucking sequins.

It brings a grin to Katsuki’s face, and he holds out his hand for Shinsou to shake. “Good to see you either way.”

“Bakugo,” Kira tugs his jacket sleeve, eyes wide as she nods for him to keep moving. “We gotta get inside.”

“Oh, sorry dude; I know how this makes you antsy.” Shinsou watches him exchange a look with Kira, takes his hand and gives it a shake.

“See you in there?” Katsuki nods.

“Bet.” Shinsou grins, dropping his hand, sauntering off towards Denki.

“You don’t know who she is? So what, you’re just gonna look clunky and hyperaware of every woman coming within a foot of you on a busy red carpet?” Kira is hissing at him as she directs him towards where semi-retired Mt Lady is having an interview with a reporter. “Did you not open the envelope?”

“I did, I just don’t know who the fuck she is, sue me.” Katsuki snips at her, just as annoyed with himself as she is.

“Oh, if this gets out, you’ll be getting sued Bakugo, don’t you worry.” She shakes her head, and points to the X’s plastered in a zig-zag all the way up to the entrance of the building. “Make your way up, hit each black X. Don’t worry about the white or the red, just hit the black ones.”

“There’s like eleven of them.”

“I’ll meet you inside,” she smiles without her eyes. “Don’t overthink it, and be fucking nice.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Go.”

He heads towards the first X when Denki moves on, a pretty reporter in white standing there with a crew and a smartphone wave him over.

“Dynamight!” She tucks a lock of pink hair behind her ear, bounces excitedly in place on the tallest pair of stilettos Katsuki has ever seen.

For all intents and purposes, this could be her. His heart absolutely hammers in his chest and he’s not entirely sure if he’s nervous because he hates the media, or if he’s about to meet the woman he’s gotta ‘fall in love’ with.

“Good to see you, number six! How’s things?” She asks into the bottom of her phone, before holding it out to him.

“Evening,” he greets. “It’s… loud here.” He makes a point to soften his scowl, looks at all of the fans and other people on the other side of the barricade. Be fucking nice, she said. Be fucking nice.

They absolutely roar.

“I don’t think your fans are used to seeing you like this. Who dressed you tonight?” She eyes him up and down, looks like she wants to touch him, but thinks better of it.

“I dressed myself, actually.” He says with a bit of bravado, that shit eating grin splitting his face as he tucks his thumbs under the lapels of his jacket and runs them down.

She laughs, a full-bodied thing that catches Katsuki off guard, has him looking awkwardly between her and the cameraman. “No, I mean who designed what you’re wearing?”

He doesn’t know. And he can’t be rude to this girl just in case she’s her; there’s a split second of internal struggle within him before she interrupts his chain of thought.

“You don’t know, do you Dynamight?”

“Am I gonna get in trouble from my agent if I don’t?” He looks behind himself, through the crowd for the purple dress, but it’s nowhere to be seen.

“No! No way! Just tweet it later!” She laughs, patting him lightly on his upper arm.

He laughs, almost bitterly. “Right, twitter, sure.” He suppresses an eye roll, lifts his hand to wave at the crowd, the camera, then her. “Enjoy your night.”

“We love you, Dynamight!” She cheers, setting the fans off again, the noise absolutely deafening him; and he’s used to loud, used to explosive. But not like this. At least when he’s detonating, he’s full of adrenaline, not fucking nerves.

The second, third, and fourth X interviews are all more of the same; more questions about his look, about how he’s unusually chatty, about how he actually showed up. It’s hard to be fucking nice, but it does take his mind off the reason he decided to show up tonight.

Until someone’s knocking into him, and he’s instinctively wrapping an arm around their waist to stop them from falling flat on their ass. There’s a collective gasp in the immediate vicinity, but all Katsuki can see is you. You in your shimmery peach gown, eyes bright and wide, face flushed and lips parted in awe.

And he recognises you immediately; sees you almost every morning when he’s got an office shift, sometimes even nights. Ochako’s a stickler for the news, watches the same channel every day like clockwork to keep an eye on the stock market when Deku can’t; and he’s always liked the addition of you, keeps an ear out for your sing-song voice under the guise of needing to know what kind of sky he’s gonna be flinging his body into if he has to fight that day.

“Weather girl?” He breathes, finally putting a face to the name.

You just kinda gawk at him, a special kind of shock that he can only describe as wonder.

“D-Dynamight? Can you help me up?” You blink, not quite knowing what to do with your hands while he has you suspended mid-fall.

As if breaking his trance, he curses a quick, “oh, shit,” before helping you back to your feet.

“Thanks,” you smile a little awkwardly. “And sorry. For, you know, knocking into you.”

“No, uh, harm done.” He mutters back, all of the bravado he’s built up over the course of the carpet walk going down the drain as he watches you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “You okay?”

You process his question without breaking eye contact with him, then you nod once, real slow. “Yeah,” you say, smile growing on your face. “Yeah, I think I am. Nice to meet you.”

He can’t help but mirror your smile. “Likewise.”

—

There’s a photo and an accompanying video going ‘viral’ when Katsuki wakes up in the morning. He knows this because not one, not two, not three, but seven different people send him links to varying posts, with people going a little nutso over his little meeting with you.

Kira’s happy too; she was all smiles for the rest of the night, texting on her phone, disappearing to relay things with Anderson before giving Katsuki his personal items back out of her satchel, and knocking off for the night. He didn’t plan to stay, but he did; had a few bourbons and hung out with Shinsou and Denki and their little gang until daybreak.

Shinsou’s sent him a few messages— he’s a double texter— and Katsuki touches base with him before delving into the world of social media, just to see how successful Meeting One was.

He’s fucking trending.

As much as he’s loathe to search his hashtag, he clicks into it; he scrolls through candid and posed photos of him in his red and black ensemble, people’s text posts commenting on how they would let him “eat them alive” among other—more intense—things, and pictures of you.

He looks at those the longest, studies the lines and curves of your face, compares how you look when you’re at ease versus when you smile brightly. You’re pretty in a… normal way. He’s kinda blown away that they didn’t pick some overly glamorous pop idol, that they found someone that’s practically his type.

Fuck, it makes him a gross type of nervous, though. The way that he’s not going to hate this makes it worse and better, and he’s conflicted because this might not be as bad as he anticipated, and he’s not sure if he likes that or not.

His social media deep dive takes him to your page, and he lays in his bed for what feels like hours scrolling through your content. You’re the weather girl for the nation’s most watched breakfast program, Good Morning Japan, and you’re clearly the show’s sweetheart. There’s photos of you with fluffy animals, on boats, at the beach, with celebrities. Katsuki feels like a dunce for not knowing your name when he read it on the paper.

One of the top posts in your hashtag is a photo of you in a bikini and a sarong, feet ankle deep in the shallow waters of Furuzamami Beach.

Fuck, you’re hot.

He throws his phone towards the end of the bed and begins his morning routine; Deku’s given him the office shift this week, and he intends to make the most out of it.

—

“Hey,” Katsuki pants, breathless.

“Katsuki, bro, the weather girl from channel 5?” Eijirou’s voice is smug as all as it rings through his AirPods. “She’s cute!”

“Eijirou, I will hang up on you.” He threatens, taking the museum stairs two at a time. He’s on his afternoon run through the city, pushing himself a little further than usual because of… reasons. The best part about being on office shift, is he finishes his shift as soon as paperwork is caught up on. And Katsuki is efficient as fuck.

“Akari keeps asking me when you’re over next, by the way. She said that you promised to take her to the parlour again.”

“Oh.” Yeah he did do that. Had her pretend she was feeling sick so he could slip from the grasp of some fans.

“Yeah, you’re bribing my daughter with ice cream again, aren’t you?”

“When’s your next overnighter?”

“Oh, I’m on days for the month,” he sighs, content on the other end of the line. “Tamaki’s taking my nights so I can spend more time with Aki; I’ve also got tomorrow off for the Maru’s anniversary visit.”

“That’s… nice of him.” Ah, yeah, it's the anniversary tomorrow; Eijirou’s taking it a little easier with each passing year, but the death of his wife is a painful cross to bear.

“Yeah I know, he’s a good guy. Anyways, just wanted to know if you wanted company tonight? I’m making breakfast for dinner.”

“Oh, your favourite.”

“Yeah, can’t go past it, am I right?”

“I’ll come around for a bit, but I’ve got a big day tomorrow, so I can’t sleep over.” By big day, he means he’s meeting you again, and he needs the night to himself to overthink the whole thing.

“You got a whole room there, though.”

“Ei, as much as I love you and Aki, I love my bed more.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” There's some shuffling on his end, paperwork probably, then he perks back up. “How long have you been feeding me decaf tea?”

“What?”

“I have decaf tea in my cupboard at home.”

“Ei, I give you decaf every time.”

“Oh.”

“See you tonight; do you need me to bring anything?”

“Nah, I’m all organised.”

There’s a pause where Katsuki contemplates bringing up the anniversary, but thinks better of it. “Be over around six.”

—

He’s not all organised.

If Katsuki could pretend to be surprised, he would, but, “You forgot the eggs? For breakfast for dinner? No eggs?”

“Dude, don’t do this, Akari’s already given me shit for it.”

“It’s fine,” Katsuki suppresses a grin. “I’ll run down and get some. Aki, want anything from the corner store?”

“Chocolate milk!” She yells from her room upstairs.

“Hey, get beers, too.” Eijirou says offhandedly.

This makes Katsuki pause. “Ei.”

“Kats.” He says in response, not meeting his gaze.

“Ugh, fine.” He grunts, sliding his shoes back on and toying with the black facemask in his pocket. “You can thank Maru for my leniency.” He says, glare hot on his friend. Eijirou just grins back as he fixes his stupid ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron behind his back, and Katsuki pulls on his beanie and mask, setting out for the walk.

He knows he wants to settle down a little further from the city. Ideally, even further than this. Sure, it’s a quiet neighbourhood, safe, where the houses have yards, and there’s grass, and trees, but… Katsuki needs more space. Privacy.

His relationship with the spotlight is rocky at best, and there’s this nagging in the back of Katsuki’s brain that warns him off all of this social media shit, the trending, the paparazzi, the overzealous fans.

The bell jingles as he enters the corner shop; it’s later than rush hour, but earlier than the typical teenaged late night snack visit, so the place is quiet.

He grabs the eggs from the shelf and heads down the aisle to the fridges, set on pulling the door open and grabbing a six pack of Sapporos.

“Oh!” A woman gasps, about to grab the handle as he reaches for it. “Sorry!” Her apology slips from her lips, and he feels his face flush a little under his mask.

It’s his fault, he’s been in his own head all afternoon. “No, I—”

It’s you.

You seem to make the realisation just as he does, your eyes widening and a gasp leaving your lips. And you both stare, his own eyes glued yours as if he were stuck in some kind of trance, as if you had him under some kind of spell.

You blink first, and he forces himself to look away for a second, so he can catch his bearings.

“I’m sorry Bakugo, I wasn’t paying attention.” You’re wearing a facemask as well, but your smile pushes your cheeks up to crinkle your eyes.

“Nah, neither was I,” he admits. “You live around here?”

“Me? No, I’m cat-sitting for a friend.” You laugh. “Gosh, this is surreal, isn’t it? Imagine running into you here of all places.”

“Yeah, both of us buying beers,” he does his best to joke— which sounds fucking stupid, by the way— but you laugh a little more, glance around the shop before leaning closer to him.

“Feels like we shouldn’t be talking yet, doesn’t it?” Your eyes almost sparkle under the harsh fluorescent lighting, and he can’t help but stare. “I just wanna say thanks, though— for catching me at the Gala. I wasn’t going to trip so hard, but you were standing there like some grumpy Adonis, and I—” you lean up to whisper in his ear. “I got nervous and actually tripped.”

“Lucky I got good reflexes, huh?” He quips back, suddenly feeling super nervous— which is weird as hell.

“The best— Oh, I better let you get back to your night.” You take a step back, open the door and grab a bottle of wine, boots squeaking on the linoleum floor when you crouch down to grab a 6-pack of beers. “These ones?”

He nods, points to the pink knee-length rain boots you’re wearing. “They’re cute,” he can’t help but snicker. “All part of the weather girl uniform, I guess?”

You hand him the beers with a laugh as you stand. “I happen to think they suit me,” you say in defence, pointing and tapping a toe dramatically.

“You’d be right,” he says a little too gently, clearing his throat when you look up at him with surprise through your lashes. “I, uh,” he starts, those damn nerves not going away. “See you around.”

“Y-yeah, sure.” You nod. “I’m gonna check out the ice cream, bye!” Then in a flash of tan coat and pink boots, you’re heading back towards the frozen section, and he’s shaking his head, eggs in one hand and beers in the other.

He tries not to stare too much, tries not to dwell on the lightness of his heart, or how god damn likeable you are. Instead he hastily grabs a chocolate milk, heads to the checkout, pays for the goods, and leaves.

—

There’s an undercurrent of sorrow that he can feel Eijirou trying to push down all evening. It doesn’t quite seep into Akari— she was only a baby when her mum passed— but Eiji’s frayed edges scratch at Katsuki, and deep into the night they’re both tipsy, sitting on the back porch nursing beers after Akari heads to bed.

They don’t need to talk— far past silence being uncomfortable— but when Eijirou’s shoulders start to shake, Katsuki wraps an arm around him, pulls his head to his chest, and lets him sob.

He stays on the couch, still not ready to christen those All Might bedsheets.

—

The second “official” meeting is supposed to happen while he’s on duty. He read through the file this time, so he’s prepared; maybe even a little… over prepared.

It’s morning, and you’re supposed to be at a certain famous bakery, sampling the goods in an advertising bid between the cafe and your work; weather on location, or something ridiculous. Then, he’s supposed to enter, and he’s supposed to look at you like ‘oh, you’re from the Gala’, and you’re supposed to look at him the same way.

The Commission didn’t account for Katsuki running into an actual villain.

He wipes his bloodied nose on the back of his glove, watches as Iida drives the crook away in the back of a paddy wagon, then pulls his other glove off with his teeth to look at his watch.

9:15am. The meeting was scheduled for 8:10am.

“All good, Dynamight?” One of the EMT’s waves him over and he inwardly groans.

“It’s just my nose, I’m fine.” He insists, swatting the little green man away.

“Just let me do a couple of observations, dude, it’ll take two minutes.” His pink eyes narrow up at Katsuki, and the grumpy blonde gives in, following him over to a bench and sitting down, letting him work his paramedic magic on him.

His phone vibrates in the pocket of his tac pants, and his watch tells him it’s Kira. He taps a few buttons on his watch, connects it effortlessly to the earpiece in his left ear. “Hey,”

“Bakugo, what happened? Anderson is pissed.” She hisses through the earpiece.

“I am currently with…” He glances down at the short man crouching around his med-pack, reads his name badge. “Midori— Really? Your name is the colour of your skin?”

“Bakugo.” Kira presses.

“That’s my Japanese name, my real name’s Timothy.” Midori sasses back, pink glare venomous.

“Timothy, huh?” Katsuki tests the name on his tongue, gauges Midori’s reaction to the pronunciation; the other man seems to soften a little.

“Bakugo.”

“Just use Timothy—“

“Bakugo, focus!” Kira borderline barks in his ear.

“Right, yeah, sorry, I’m here.” Katsuki sighs, looking up at the puffy white- grey clouds overhead.

“We have to reschedule for tomorrow,” Kira sighs, probably doing that thing where she pushes her glasses up and pinches the bridge of her nose. “She’s heading to the coast, though, so you’re gonna have to—“

Kira wants him to what?

His semi-sunny disposition sours. “I can’t do that.”

“Bakugo.”

“Kira,” he starts, feeling his blood pressure rise along with the octave of his voice. He glances down at Mido—Timothy, tries to control his volume. “I’m on patrol shifts this week, I can’t do that.”

He can’t let Izuku or Shouto or Ochako down. That, and he can’t think of a good excuse to be heading to the coast.

“No, you’re right. It’d be better if she could meet you halfway or something.” Kira sighs, conceding a little.

He drops his chin, focuses that glare of his at the pavement next to Timothy. “Not half way—”

“Oh, ouch, are you okay?” Pink rain boots step into his vision, and when he looks up, you’re smiling down at him. He just… stares stupidly up at you, feels something warm and wet drip over his lip as your eyes widen. “You’re bleeding, Bakugo.”

“Shit,” he turns away from you, swipes at the wetness of his upper lip, knowing he’s probably just spreading it.

“Here,” you gently bully his hand away from his face, dab at him with something damp and smelling of coconut. It takes a moment for him to register that you’re sitting next to him, wiping at him like a nurse while the god damn EMT is kneeling at his feet, and Kira is screaming for his attention in his ear.

Without even thinking, he ends that call, silences his earphones on his smartwatch.

“You’ve got your work boots on,” he starts, wary. “You on the clock?”

“Oh, I had a thing a few blocks away, and heard my new favourite hero apprehended some bad guy in the same district.” Your focus isn’t on him, you’re in your handbag, fussing around with wet wipes and a little plastic bag and a handkerchief.

“So, you came for a walk?” He asks, staring. Staring because seeing you on social media is vastly different to seeing you in person, and so close. He could count your lashes, could reach out and test the softness of your skin, your glossy lips—

“Yep.” You grin, looking up and meeting his eyes.

It’s a spark— the same one from the corner store— and it pulls deep in his chest, your beauty and charm and the peace you bring almost overwhelming, yet entirely endearing—

“Hey— sorry, I know this is a wrong place, wrong time type thing,” Timothy stands up, fishes his phone out of his pocket, your spell broken as you both look up at him. “But I’m a huge fan,”

“Of me?” You chirp, surprised. And it takes Katsuki a moment, because usually it’s him being approached with nervous apprehension.

“Yeah, who else?”

You send a sideways glance to Katsuki, “uh, the actual top ten hero in our midst?”

“The top ten hero doesn’t look good in a swimsuit.” Katsuki says under his breath, and you giggle while Timothy pales.

“I’m sure you do,” you whisper back to him, before standing up. “Alright, sure, a selfie?” You ask, all of your attention on Timothy, who smiles at you, his pink irises akin to sparkling hearts; and much to his horror, Katsuki feels like he wants to steal you away from him.

“S-sounds good to me,” Timothy stammers, just as enamoured as Katsuki feels.

“‘Kay,” you agree, smile big and bright and Katsuki has to look away or he might get giddy by proxy. Timothy’s cheeks flush when you stand close—too close, probably— and you direct him into taking a few pics, before making him show you each of them, your nose scrunching as you scrutinise each one.

“Why does my nose look like that?” You frown at the EMT, a little wounded kitty.

“You look great though! You don’t mind if I post it to social media?” He asks, and Katsuki resists an eye roll.

“Of course not! Make sure to tag me so I can follow you back.”

Katsuki stands, hands on his hips. “Perfect, are you done? We’re busy.” He means to say that he’s busy, and he also means to glare at both of you, but it just doesn’t pan out that way. So, he runs with it, throws caution to the wind, and offers his hand to you.

All to quickly, he’s got anxiety nibbling at his heels— the fear of rejection, of ‘am i doing too much too quickly?’ of ‘should I be going off script just because you are?’. It sets in, and almost sends him spiralling. Almost, is the key, though, because before that little beast can sink its teeth into him, you’re taking his hand, practically skipping to his side, and beaming that too-brilliant smile up at him.

“I know a cafe,” you say, waving that pesky EMT off and almost pulling him away from the little crowd Katsuki’s pretending not to notice.

“I bet you do,” he can’t help but look at you— and it feels so schoolboy, and too soon, and off script— and he can’t help but get swept away in the ease at which you flow.

“We can share a parfait,” you lean into him with a little smile, whisper it like a secret. Your arm links around his then, and you lean against his bicep, look up at him through your lashes like a Disney branded cherub.

“Bet you’ll eat the cherry,” he snickers, trying to gain the upper hand, trying to gauge whether or not you’re getting swept up in him, too, because this… this thing isn’t natural, isn’t created from a want, but a need, a contract—

“Silly,” you pull away a bit and pout, “we’ll get two cherries.” And, fuck, you’re pretty. Pretty in all of the ways he loves, like the Commission have his tastes on file. You’re kind where he’s mean, and fun where he’s serious, edges soft where his are hard.

The seed of doubt’s been planted, though, because he can feel himself closing up, shutting down. Even though he’d love to stay in this flirtatious little moment with you, soak up all that attention you’re showering him with, he needs to be realistic— is wired to do so.

You’re acting.

He’s acting.

At least, he’s supposed to be

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mybigbangacademia #atmospheric fic #panzer.writing #leese writes

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