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anundyingfidelity · 3 months

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OUT OF MIND — Soldier Boy/Ben

Summary: Ben believes he's alone in the lab, that you're just a product of his imagination and insanity. Is not like that, you're more real than he ever thought.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 1.3k.

Warnings: sexual content, p in v, blowjobs, handjobs, heavy non-con (such as reader taking advantage of Ben), nudity, some angst, mentions of torture and being unconscious.

Note: *another one* this is part of @artyandink Jensen's drabble marathon (if it can't be due to the content of this is totally okay tho!) Anyway hope you like this dark piece of crap I had on my drafts because I could never write a long fanfic ever again, I'm taking so damn long to write.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

The last doctor left, metal door closing behind his back, leaving you all alone with the man lying down in a too uncomfortable stretcher, hands and ankles tied.

The doctor's instructions were clear. He didn't care what you'd do to the experiment in the room. No one cared. As much as a scientist you were yourself, you stayed until late, admiring the former hero at your complete mercy, with nowhere to go or a voice to yell for help. Not that he might needed though.

The room was cold as you paced to remain by his side. His chest going up and down, eyes closed as he slept thanks to the dosis of gas you always administered before taking the tests of his blood and getting into the good part: the torture.

Tens of scientists and doctors stepped the lab to test his strength and powers, gifting him of endurance and new abilities along the way. You were one of them. And this was your price for making him indestructible instead of killing him, switching completely the main objective of the reds. You never really talked to Soldier Boy, more than just the silent moans and gasps leaving your mouth when you actually got into business. Ninety nine percent of the time he was unconscious under the effects of the gas, but he did caught you on top of him a couple of times, or just sucking him off until he was hard in your mouth. The only thing further than talking was his green eyes staring at you, just as he woke up from the slumber. But that made it a thousand times better.

With your fingertips, you traced his bare arm. The skin hot against your hand, finding the way up to his muscular chest, and then down his stomach, stopping right above his crotch. Your mind started wandering all over with the past memories of you and him inside that same lab room.

It was wrong, but you couldn't stop.

You've done this countless of times, what was with doing it again? Besides, he was a piece of shit of a man as far as you knew, using women as appliances and then tossing them like garbage once he was bored. You had to have fun too. Your hand went under his pants, softly playing with his shaft, as your free one went to brush away the mess his hair was doing on his forehead, so delicately.

His cock grew hard thanks to your touch, jerking him off smoothly. It only made you yearn for him more, the wetness between your legs increasing as you rubbed your thighs together to feel some friction that could relief you for a moment.

You pushed your skirt up and took off your panties, completely desperate to feel him inside you. But before you pulled his pants down enough to free his dick, ans you leaned down to take the tip of his cock between your lips, sucking him just right to earn a somewhat loud gasp from his throat. You took him deeper in your mouth, soaking his shaft with your saliva and stroking with your hand what couldn't fit.

Just as you tasted some pre cum, you pulled back and climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs and lining his cock with your cunt, rubbing yourself on his length. You moaned softly sinking down on him, your tight, wet walls engulfing his dick, until your ass met the hot skin of his thighs. His cock twitched inside you as you rolled your hips in slow, deep movements, that soon became desperate. Biting your lip, you unbuttoned your blouse and pushed your bra down. Quickly, you held on his chest with the palms of your hands, riding him.

Soldier Boy brows furrowed, his breathing became unsteady as much as yours. Sometimes he looked like he would wake up in any minute, but he wasn't really able to. The features on his beautiful face used to change as you had your way with him because it was natural, and you loved to be in control. The only thing you'd regret was his big hands not being put into good use because of the restraints around them. You were so close to your climax that you wished he could bury his nails on your ass and mark it red while you're bouncing on his cock. Maybe someday you'd do it the right way. But not right now. Control suited you and you liked being on top anyway, playing with your tits at your own pace as they bounced with every thrust.

His cock met the deepest parts inside your pussy and you played with your clit and your folds, reaching sweet release and coating his cock with your juices. You continued the steady rhythm of your hips, going for a second orgasm, his dick throbbing so hard you would just fuck him until he spilled inside.

You let out a raspy moan as he came, filling you up and triggering your climax again, thighs shaking. You recovered your breathe, feeling his cock softening inside your pussy. His brows went back to normal, but you felt his heart still racing. Shifting on top of his cock, you reach his bearded cheek, caressing his features.

"I wish I could see underneath all this," you mumbled. "But I'm afraid you'll wake up for real and kill me."

You smirked just a little at the thought. Probably he'd just agree to fuck you if he was awake and back to his old self again, not drugged, not put into sleep. He was the perfect toy nonetheless.

But then, his eyes fluttered open softly. He thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, watching your face as the bright, white lights iluminated the room. Soldier Boy often believed you were a ghost from his twisted mind, that there was something inside his mind tormenting him to the point he was being used for sexual pleasure by an unknown entity. But your touch, the heat of your body, and your weight over his own told him otherwise. You were fucking real, straddling his lap, with his dick buried balls deep in your tight cunt, tits out and messy hair and lab coat. Soldier Boy groaned, hands clenching into fists.

He spent so much time, decades, inside those concrete walls that there was this primal need inside that couldn't be met. And you were there to make it true from time to time, even if he wanted it or not.

"Good morning, sunshine," you mocked when he tried to free his wrists, but was too weak to do so. "The gas effect is fading away I see."

He grunted as you pulled off from him, climbing down to fix your clothes and putting your panties back. Soldier Boy tried to scream, but his throat was sore; he had to fight the restrains on his limbs, however it was useless. He was so powerless and fragile for a moment.

"Shhh, it's okay," you whispered, putting your hand on his forearm. He looked at you with a mixture of fear and rage. "You're gonna be okay. I always take care of you," you smiled as the stretcher began to shake while he tried to set himself free. "Now don't try it, you're a good boy. Aren't you?"

Soldier Boy groaned like a scolded puppy once you combed his hair with your fingers.

"You've been here for a long time, and no one has ever taken such good care of you as I do," you said, leaning down until your lips were close enough to his ear. "So you better obey me and keep being a good bitch for me."

Once you pulled back, he got the perfect close up of your face before you turned around and left the room, the sound of your heels echoing before the metal door finally closed. In less than five minutes, the chamber was filled with novichok.

Before sleeping again, Soldier Boy knew it was real.

The woman fucking him on his dreams and living nightmares was so damn real.

Soldier Boy taglist

@delaynew

@k-slla

@thesilmarillionblog

@onlyangel-444

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@daisy-the-quake

@jackles010378

@mostlymarvelgirl

@deans-spinster-witch

@drasticemotions

@stoneyggirl2 @sapnaploves

@believeinthefireflies95

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy/ben x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy smut #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x reader smut #soldier boy the boys #jensen ackles the boys #tw noncon

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that-student-that-has-homework · 7 months

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Matching - Portgas D. Ace

Find more of my work here: Tumblr MasterList

This is a little idea I had for a larger Ace fanfic I'm working on. I might revise this! Please let me know if he's in character or not...I'm starting to have my doubts.

It had been the better part of a week. No, maybe a whole week at this point. While before you’d spend most of your free time around him, now you were constantly “busy.” Heck sometimes he even finds it difficult to find you on the Moby Dick! Was this the end of the honeymoon phase everyone warned him about?

Were you starting to get tired of him?

You kept sneaking around...without him! Before you used to sneak around together! Worse still is…every time he pops up to see you, you always seem like you're hiding something. It's like quickly stashed papers, and tightly clenched fists. It’s the way you spin on your heel, and tense up, when you used to not do that at all.

What was maddening was how when the evenings would hit, or even at random parts of the day, you’d run and crash into him with a huge hug. You’d beam at him bright and genuine just upon seeing him, heck you’d be practically vibrating with joy as you’d squeeze the life out of him. He’d almost turned to fire once.

Maybe you weren’t tired of him?

When you did cuddle with him, your eyes seemed to linger on the tattoo on his arm. He’d even woken up to you tracing it with your finger once before. You’d looked sheepish that he’d caught you admiring it…actually you looked a little…panicked too…

You’d squirmed in his grasp when he asked you about it. Saying things like how it’s pretty, and how it’s a tattoo unique to him, so you were admiring it. You're pretty good at dodging his line of questioning whenever he voices his suspicions about your behavior. You were also incredibly sneaky about distracting him with your affections, and by the time he’s regained his original line of thought, you’d already be gone.

There's something fishy in the air and it's not the sea king he caught the other day.

He only finds out what it is you'd been scheming behind his back when he gets back from a mission. He was so distracted for most of it. He couldn’t figure out why you were so clearly avoiding him sometimes…were you having second thoughts? What was going on? Was this an elaborate prank?

He was still in a daze as he made his way back to the Moby Dick. You used to bring peace, yet right now you’d thrown him into turmoil. He hated the way he was doubting you. He hated not knowing what was wrong.

“Hey look Ace’s back!”

“How’d it go champ?”

“Aaaaaaacee!” It was your voice that pulled him back completely.

He’d barely had a moment to look up than you’d thrown yourself on him with a hug. The force of it all almost send him toppling backwards. His hat had been knocked off his head, and he could feel the press of its medallion on his throat. He's relieved at how genuinely happy you are to see him, yet still an unease twists up his stomach in knots.

You pull away much too quickly, pulling his arms and rotating them, checking for any damage. The way you're checking up on him to make sure he's not hurt and that he's okay floods his entire system with warmth. Yet he can't help the constriction in his chest and the nagging as to what it was that had you sneaking around before he left if you missed him this badly?

He can hear the crew laughing at the obvious display of affection.

“Being bold there little missy,” they taunt you.

You shrink in on yourself a bit, embarrassment catching up to you. However when you take his hand in yours, and whistles and cheers break out, “I was doing it for Ace,” the timidity in the lines of your shoulders and face brings the heat to his own face, “I thought he might like it.”

He squeezes your hand in his. Yet his brain screams at him, then what was all that sneaking around about?

Unsure how to deal with things, he just studies you closely as you ask him about how things went and how the mission was. You're not up to anything really, or at least it doesn't seem like it. You're as attentive and engaged as ever, things are just as they used to be before.

You drag him to the kitchen, knowing he must be hungry as he usually is after a mission. You even sit with him in your little corner of the mess hall while he eats, something you hadn’t done much prior to his departure. He's talking to you about the guy with the interesting abilities that he'd fought with his mouth full, and you're indulging him.

Yet even as he tries to fall into your old pattern, the confusion only festers further. What had been going on with you?

He feels absolutely awful, doubting you with the way you’re listening to him like he's the most interesting guy in the world. To be fair, to you, he really is. He keeps talking and chewing and answering your questions, yet the thing he really wants to talk about is bubbling just below the surface. Somehow all the tension and excitement peaks and he goes head first into his plate of food.

When he finally comes back to, there’s no food on his face, and he’s resting on his arms on the dinner table, his plate off to his side. You’re still next to him, gently brushing your fingers through his hair, patiently de-tangling any clumps you come across. He groans while sitting up and blinking the sleep away.

“You’re up,” you observe aloud, “here let me clear these out of the way for you.”

You get up from beside him, unthinkingly pulling your sleeves up your forearms, and reach for the plates around him. He notices something odd about one of your hands as you walk away with the stack of plates in your hands, but before he can say much you're already on your way to the kitchen counter. He watches you, lethargically shoving food in his mouth as you hand the dishes over to Thatch, who looks at your hands, then looks his way for a moment with an amused grin.

He could actually hear the next thing as the cook raised his voice, “nah leave those dishes to me, go hang out with your loverboy.”

Had the pirate not shoved you away with a plate of food in hand, Ace got the feeling you would have pointedly ignored Thatch’s teasing to do the dishes. You walked back, your brow and lips pursed in a kind of indignation. He couldn’t help the little huff of amusement. You’d gotten much better at handling their teasing over time, but he wouldn’t deny it was cute how it would get to you sometimes.

You took a seat beside him again, sliding the plate the cook had given you towards him. Your…well he could only hope he was still really your beloved, just stared at you in silence as he chewed. For some reason it made you squirm.

That’s it. He’d had enough. He has to figure this out. You’d said it yourself, it’s really important to communicate things! That’s how relationships last!

“You’ve been real weird lately,” was what came out as he grabbed the new plate of food, “you been avoiding me?”

His brow furrowed at the way your gaze immediately fell, taking your expression with it, and how you began to fidget with your fingers - a nervous - wait. Ace’s hand extended to grab your left one, bringing it up to his face.

There on your left wrist, right where your pulse sat, in black ink sat the letters ASCE, arranged horizontally and smaller, but a perfect replica of his own otherwise. Instinctively he rubbed his thumb across it, almost as though he was checking to make sure this wasn’t an illusion and that wasn’t just normal ink from a pen.

You were looking back at him, he could see it in the way your shoulders bunched near your ears, and the wobble of your lips, and how you couldn’t keep eye contact for too long, but kept glancing back at him…you were nervous. He absentmindedly began drawing circles on your wrist, just staring at you.

“I was avoiding you, I guess,” you admitted, “I was hoping to surprise you with that,” your free hand moved to play with the hem of your shirt, as you shrunk even more, “was it presumptuous of me? Should I have asked first?”

“For a second I thought I’d managed to chase you away,” he admitted quietly, looking back down at the mark of permanence you’d etched into your skin, “that you’d gotten sick of me.”

You snatched your hand away before he could think, moving in to embrace him, “get sick, of you? Then I’d be a tasteless heathen or…whatever, unworthy of you- totally - completely - absolutely unworthy of you!”

Your arms tighten around him, “I’m so sorry I put you through that love.”

“All that sneaking around was for this tattoo?” He couldn’t help the involuntary little crack in his voice. “You really did surprise me darlin’.”

He pulls away from you first and his hands find your wrists, and his eyes again fall onto the symbol, the symbol of him, lovingly tattooed into your skin. A mark to let people know just who put the ring on your finger.

He didn’t look up from it, even when you spoke up again, “Ace,” he just traced circles over the mark that sat proudly in bold black letters, “I’m really sorry that I made you feel that way - wait does that sound? It’s not-no wait. It’s my fault!” He glanced up at you for a moment as you struggled to put what you wanted to say into words, working strenuously to apologize sincerely.

His lips wobbled upwards.

He couldn’t help it.

You’d gone out of your way, to tattoo his mark onto your body. He couldn’t help but stare at it as he continued to rub circles with his thumb. Not only that, you were straining yourself so much all because he voiced that damned insecurity of his.

“I didn’t mean to put you through that?” You tried again. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I didn’t want to hurt you.” You paused, and he felt you move closer. “I’m sorry if what I did hurt you-no-I’m sorry that I did hurt you.”

There was a pricking at the corners of eyes, as he finally took his eyes off your little gift to him to look at you. There was a kind of relief, or maybe it was appreciation? Maybe even a tinge of surprise? He was touched, that was one thing he knew for sure-if the fire that burned in his chest was any indication. He was a sick bastard for appreciating this, wasn’t he? Seeing you so genuinely apologetic - it was alarming really, did he really deserve this apology when he was doubting you? How could he ever hope to compete with this?

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, doll,” his voice was uncharacteristically quiet as he continued to rub circles into your wrists.

“No I do,” you insisted, “Ace, I’m happy you’re communicating how you felt to me,” you responded quietly, but firmly, “so don’t downplay how it felt when I was the one being sneaky.”

“You didn’t mean any harm though,” his lips pull into a gentle smile as he slowly brings your tattooed pulse up to brush his lips against it before flicking his gaze to meet yours, “you were here prepping this lovely gift for me and I was only thinking of myself.”

A smirk tugs at his lips at the way you have to shake yourself out of whatever spell he’d placed you under, “just because I didn’t mean any harm, doesn’t mean I didn’t do any harm,” you press on, shuddering a bit when he brushes another kiss to your pulse, “if you did the same, I’d probably have felt the same way too, you have nothing to feel bad about.”

“Forgive me for doubting you, cariña?”

He almost laughs at the affronted look you give him, firing back a, “forgive me for hurting you, love?”

“Nothing to forgive,” he’s smiling more now, “I’m glad you were being so sneaky, made this surprise all the better.”

“Don’t downplay your feelings Portgas D. Ace,” he could hear your frown, “your feelings are important to me, you’re important to me.”

“My full name cariña?” He couldn’t help but tease.

“Yes,” you answered immediately and he looked up to see how upset you looked - it was almost annoying - he’d rather not dwell, “I want you to get just how upset you were off your chest.”

That got a chuckle out of him, despite the irritation that was rising.

“I don’t want to think about it too much,” his smile fell for a moment, “I don’t want to ruin this happy moment with stupid emotions in the past.”

“But I don’t want them to fester-”

“Mi amor,” he looked at you, almost pleading, “it’s true I felt like you were ignoring me, but seeing your little surprise makes me the happiest man on the five seas.”

Seems that was enough to quiet you. Though… “six, if you include the All Blue.”

When you chuckled at him, he felt his smile returning. He honestly couldn’t care less about the past. He’d said his piece, you’d talked it out, he didn’t care anymore.

“So, you know I love you right?” The timid way in which you asked was enough to knock the wind out of him.

Yet, he grinned, and brought your marked pulse up to lips again, “I love you too.”

“Oi get a room!” The two of you startled at the sudden shout coming from the other end of the mess hall. “Sure we can barely see you in your little corner, but the lovey-dovey energy in here is off the charts!”

“Shut up Thatch!” Ace fired back. “You’re just mad you can’t gossip to Marco about it!”

“You’re the one blocking the show!”

“Good!”

“It’s real funny though,” there was a pause, “who’d have thought the wild Fire Fist was actually a huge pile of mush!”

With the newfound yelling, people started to file into the mess hall. Which was when he noticed it was mostly empty prior to that. Of course among the people who filed in was the aforementioned first division commander.

“You like your little surprise Ace?” He asked the younger man.

“Wait you knew?”

“Who else would she ask yoi?” The medic gave him a lazy grin before turning to you. “So, did you get to say what you wanted to say yoi?”

Ace studied you as you shook your head looking both disappointed and sheepish.

“What did you want to say?” He couldn’t help but ask.

You huffed, a sheepish smile wobbling your lips, as you moved to his left side, your right hand pushing his upper arm to show more of his tattoo.

"See,” you held up your own tattooed wrist next to his arm, “now we match."

Extra:

Ace later: “I’m gonna marry her.”

Marco (who is next to him): “aren’t you already married?”

#portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace fluff #portgas d ace #portgas d ace fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece #ace one piece

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wafflefries13 · 4 months

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The Consequence of Late Night Calls

Summary: You've been friends with Katsuki for years, and you've always thought it's been just that - friends. But when you get a late-night call, it might just change things.

AN: Last repost! The original post got eaten by Tumblr. I'm still really proud of this one. I wrote it back when I was first starting to publish fanfic and I like how it turned out.

Warnings: College au, drinking, language

The call shocked you out of a deep but impromptu sleep. You jerked up from the noise, a page of lecture notes sticking to your check. It fluttered back to the desk covered in its own mess of loose leaf documents, used textbooks that cost more than a weekend trip to Disney World, and a laptop missing three of its letter keys.

You dragged your tongue against your teeth, trying to get rid of the cotton feel coating the inside of your mouth. Rubbing stars into your tired eyes, you wondered when exactly you had fallen asleep. Was it somewhere near memorizing the latin terminology for court rhetoric or around reading the case file and trial records you were going to be tested over on Monday? Deciding wondering was basically pointless, considering you had pretty much forgotten all of it anyway, you pawed blindly around for your phone.

“Hello?” You answered, eyes still closed, although it probably came out and more of a mumbled groan than anything else.

“(Y/NNNNNNNNN)!”

You pulled the phone away from your ear, wincing at the sudden loud noise. Blinking bleerally, you looked down at your phone. You had taken the caller ID picture a year ago, at a sorority Halloween party you barely remembered aside from the copious amounts of alcohol consumed followed by an ill-advised scavenger hunt that ended with a call to the police and the dean’s car somehow ending up in the agriculture department’s greenhouse crowded with Jack-O-lanterns. It was a profile shot of Bakugou Katsuki, his mouth opened in a mid-yell scowl, as was his standard expression, and eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. One hand extended to try and block the camera, the other clutching a brown bottle. He was wearing a fantasy barbarian king costume, chest bare to show off the taut muscles he worked so hard for all of high school to get. When he’d shown up in it, or, rather, when Kirishima had dragged him along in his own dragonborn costume, you couldn’t believe he still had it. You remembered sitting in your basement in 9th grade, pricking your fingers with a sewing needle as you and the rest of your newly formed D&D group, Bakugou and Kirishima included, spent way too much time and effort into creating your costumes.

Rubbing at the bridge of your nose in a vain attempt to chase away the headache you could already feel forming, you brought the phone back to your ear. You could hear the low thump of bass heavy music in the background.

“Hi, Suki,” You said, trying not to sound condescending, but it came out like that anyway.

“Hey!” He said sharply. The rest of his reply was slurred smooth. “I told you not to call me that.”

You smirked. “It’s cute.”

“It’s embarrassing! ‘M not cute.”

“No, you’re calling me at-” You pulled the phone away again to check the time. “Katsuki, it’s like two in the morning, what the hell?”

You heard someone shout something on the other side of the line that Katsuki mumbled a reply to. To you he said, “Was thinking about you.”

You felt yourself blush despite yourself. “You were thinking about me?”

There was a clunk and a bump. You could imagine him falling against a wall and sliding down to sit until the room stopped spinning. “Yeah. I don’t like it.”

You ignored the jab in your heart. “Well, thanks.”

“It keeps happening. I’ll just be, like, doing stuff, and then I just think, ‘What would (Y/N) think of that?’ ‘I wonder what (Y/N)’s doing right now.’ ‘(Y/N) would know what to do now. She’s so smart. And her hands look so soft. And her eyes are so pretty.’” He was quiet for a second. “It’s annoying. I can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s worse when you’re here.” There was a shuffling as you heard him try to stand up then give up again. “Why aren’t you here? I want you here.”

You were wide awake now. You clenched and unclenched your hand, trying to process the information your obviously drunk friend had just confessed. Your stomach churned in a mix of anticipation, anxiety, and straight up butterflies.

What the hell did all of that mean? Well, of course you knew what it meant, or you knew what it meant when spoken by a sober person of sound mind and body. But there was no way, you tried to rationalize, that The Bakugou Katsuki, the guy you’d known since freshman year of high school when he’d punched a guy who had flipped up your uniform skirt on the first day, the guy who had surprised just about everyone in home economics when he busted out a three tiered cake like it was no one’s business, the guy whos ego was big enough to have its own gravitational pull, was confessing his feelings to you in a drunk rant at two in the morning.

“Katsuki,” You said in a soft voice. “I-”

There was a retching sound from the other end of the line. Katsuki coughed, tried to say something, then threw up again. “Aw, fuck.”

That headache was back with avengence now. You sighed, looking for your keys. “Katsuki, where are you?”

“Uhh, on campus? At the Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever house. There’s a party. Why aren’t you here?”

“You know I hate all the Greek life bs. Stay where you are, okay? I’m coming to get you. You’re completely wasted.”

“‘M not. I can handle what I drink.” There was another pause before he wretched again.

“Did you just throw up again?”

“...No.”

“Cool. I’ll be there in ten.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond before hanging it. You didn’t think your heart could take it if he kept going on like he had been. Grabbing your keys and heading out of your crowded studio apartment, you hopped in your car to go save your drunk friend from making any other ill advised decisions that night.

You realized that you were probably over thinking the whole phone call as you drove through deserted streets. You couldn’t help it, it was a bad habit you had formed as a kid that now made you obsess over court documents and testimonies in class. But now, instead of helping, it was picking you apart. What did Katsuki’s tone imply when he was talking to you just now? Could you trust the tone of an inebriated person? What did he mean when he said he thought about you a lot? You’d known each other for years now, being involved in almost all the same activities. Wouldn’t it be natural to think about someone you spent so much time with? But you’d known Kirishima for just as long, not to mention the rest of the self-named “Baku-Squad.” You’d never gotten a late night drunk call from any of them. Heck, Katsuki had known Izuku way longer than he had known you, and you were pretty dang sure Katsuki had never called him going on and on about how he always thought about him.

Stopping at a red light, you pressed your forehead into the soft faux-leather of your steering wheel, willing your thoughts to calm down and just come to a rational conclusion already. Expect, you know, a rational conclusion that wasn’t that the guy you had carried a torch for for almost as long as you had known him might actually have feelings for you back.

You turned on to the street lined with sororities and fraternities across from the main campus. You had to slam on your breaks almost immediately to avoid running over a tipsy, giggling co-ed who was stumbling out into the road. She didn’t even look up at you.

You didn’t know exactly which house Katsuki was stranded at, considering you could see at least three different parties all going on at first glance. His “Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever” wasn’t very helpful, either, considering all the Greek letters adorning the houses blended together in your mind at some point. And you really didn’t want to tramp through a bunch of different houses tonight.

Thankfully, you were saved the trouble when you saw Kirishima’s 1969 Chevrolet Chevelle park half off the curb in front of one of the houses. You’d know that car anywhere. Kirishima had dragged your group to various scrap yards and auto-repair stores all summer after he got his license, the first of you all to do so, in an effort to fix up the worn down Chevelle that he’d bought for a hundred bucks and a turkey sandwich.

You parked on the other side of the street then jogged across to the house that was practically vibrating with heavy music and Greek life energy. Stepping over a semi-conscious frat boy laying in the doorway, you scanned around the house for any sign of Katsuki’s pomeranian-puff-ball hair.

You spotted Denki lounging on a couch, a lampshade on his head and a tangle of phone chargers clutched in his fist. His hand sparked every now and then as he used his quirk to recharge the collection of phones.

You lifted up the edge of the lampshade. “Hey there, Pikachu.”

“Heeeeeey~” He said, giving you a thumbs up. You could already tell he was too far gone, although you didn’t know if it was from drinking or the over use of his quirk.

“(Y/N)!” You heard a voice call behind you. A body fell heavily against your back. Sero wrapped his arms around you in a backwards hug. “Where you been? We missed you!”

“Studying. I’m boring, remember? I’m looking for Katsuki, you seen him around?”

Sero snickered. “Bakugou, huh? He’s been looking for you for a long time, right, Denki?”

“Heeeeeey~”

You swallowed hard. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Sero snickered again, flopping on the couch next to Denki. “Can’t tell. Part of the bro code. And he said he’d kill me.”

“That does sound like Katsuki.”

Sero covered his eyes with his arm, head leaning back. With a wide smile, he waved his hand in the vague direction to the back door. “I think he’s out by the pool or something.”

You waved bye. “Thanks, I’ll go check it out. You guys take care of yourselves, okay?”

“Look at ‘em go,” Sero said to Denki as you left. “You think they’ll have a spring wedding?”

“Heeeeeey~”

*~~~~*

You managed to weave your way through the crowd of bodies clogging the house to finally spill out into the back yard. You had no idea how people were able to stay this energized this late into the night with this many other people around. You remembered once being stuck at another party, early on in your college days. When it became super clear you didn’t want to be there, overwhelmed by the noise, the crush of bodies, and the suffocation of social enterprise, Katsuki had dragged Kirishima over to you, planting him in front of you as your ‘extrovert shield.’ He’d stayed with you behind the boisterous redhead for the rest of the night.

You wondered if Katsuki remembered doing that, if he remembered any of the small nice gestures he did for you over the years. And now, with his call, with what Sero said, with your over analyzing brain, you were dissecting every interaction you could remember. Was the time he opened a door for you a signal? Was the reason he would ask to study with you for chemistry, when he was way better in practically every subject than you, just so he could be close to you? Were the times he had given you his jacket when you were cold meant to be a more intimate moment?

God, you were going to go crazy.

Walking around the pool, you finally spotted the hot-headed blond. He was sitting slouched over on the end of one of the reclining pool chairs, forearms braced on his knees. You almost called out to him, stopping cold when you saw the girl behind him. She had draped herself over his back, chin rested in the crook of his neck, one had massaging his shoulder, the other conspicuously sneaking under the hem of his shirt to rub circles on his abs.

You clenched and unclenched your hands, worry gnawing at you as a headache at the back of your skull. Had something changed between the time he had called you and now? Had there been nothing there to change at all? Had you been misreading this situation the whole time?

Katsuki looked up, his permanently affixed scowl even deeper. The second his jewel-red eyes met yours, you felt your heart skip a beat. He jumped to his feet so fast the girl behind him fell back against the chair. He tried marching over to you, which was made only slightly less intimidating by the drunk sway to his step.

You didn’t remember him being so tall. You’d just seen him this afternoon. There was a flushed blush across his face, adding a surprising softness. Were his arms always that strong looking? Were his eyes that piercing? Was his jaw that strong?

“You came,” He said, voice rough as whiskey soaking into gravel.

You spread your hands. “Well, you said my name three times, so, here I am!” You laughed nervously, trying to ignore how his gaze pinned you down.

He took another step towards you, hand reading up. “(Y/N), I-”

His cheeks turned from pink to green. Lurching to the side, he vomited into the pool. You tried to help him back up, hunched over and trying to catch his breath. The crowd of people around you groaned in disgust before rolling in to sarcastic applause. Katsuki flipped them off.

“Alright, Suki,” You said, rubbing his back. “Let’s get you back home.”

He grumbled, leaning his full weight against you. You almost stumbled and fell with the sudden shift of balance. Katsuki slid his arm around your waist, hand firmly grasping your hip, as if he was the one trying to prevent you from a drunken stumble. His fingers felt like fire through your clothes.

You decided to go around the house instead of trying to push your way through it. Soon you were making your way across the street. It took some maneuvering to unlock and open the passenger door. You practically dropped Katsuki in where his head fell back with a groan. You grabbed his seat belt and stretched across him to fasten it. It wasn’t until he started petting your hair that your realized your position of half-way laying across his lap. You jerked back, some of your hair getting caught in his fingers. He made a disappointed sound at the loss of it.

You slid back into the driver's seat, trembling hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. You had to take a few steadying breaths before you were ready to start the car. Pulling out of the neighborhood, you glanced over at Katsuki. His eye brows were furrowed, eyes closed, mouth pulled in a small frown.

God, he looked adorable.

You hit the break harder than you meant to at the light. Adorable? Where the hell did that thought come from? He’d probably be furious if he knew you ever thought that.

But…

You risked another look at him. When he let his face relax like this, you could see the slight chub that still clung to his cheeks. Another thing he would hate to know that you thought was how much you loved the softness that it leant him. It was cute.

Almost without your realizing it, you lifted your hand. You were overcome with the sudden urge to poke his cheek. A car horn blared behind you when your finger was less than an inch from his face. You let out an undignified squeak, hands slamming back to the wheel. Katsuki grumbled and turned in the seat, head resting against the window. You could feel the blush burning up your face.

A few minutes later, you pulled back to the apartment complex. You both lived in the same building, Katsuki directly below your own unit. And now you were overthinking his reason for not living on campus.

When you opened the passenger door, Katsuki almost fell out. You jerked forward to catch him then dragged him out. He half woke up, as feeble on his legs as a newborn horse.

You lugged him through the lobby. He was muttering under his breath, but most of the words you could make out were curses. Not unusual for him. You pressed the button for the elevator repeatedly. It just blinked back at you. You sighed in frustration. They had been doing maintenance on your building all week, but now might have been the absolute worst time to do the elevator.

You shook Katsuki’s shoulder a little bit. His head jostled like a bobble-head. “Suki, I’m gonna need your help here for a minute.”

His head lolled forward, forehead coming down to press to yours. In a quiet voice, he whispered, “I’d do anything for you.”

You shoved him upright, face burning. “Then walk up the damn stairs yourself!”

Despite that, you still ended up half-carrying him up four flights of stairs. You were uncomfortably sweaty when you reached the door to Katsuki’s apartment. The two of you had traded copies of your apartment keys when you had moved in. “In case something happens to your dumb ass and I need to come save you,” He had said. He would frequently stop by, usually when you were hours deep into an all-nighter. He’d bring his laptop and work on whatever 12 page essay way due on your bed while you poured over case reports. You’d sit in silence, just together, sharing the same space, content with nothing more than knowing the other was nearby. Or he’d bring you real food to make sure you weren’t just eating ramen all the time. In turn, you’d pull him out for game night with the squad, make sure he’d actually call his mother once in a while, and lend an ear to his semi-nightly rants on whoever he decided to hate that night.

You fumbled with the keys, jamming the key in the lock then pushing it open with your shoulder that wasn’t currently occupied by a half-asleep, full-drunk boy who had at least 50 pounds and ten inches on you.

There was always an expectation with the rooms of single college boys. Greasy pizza boxes, empty bottles of booze displayed like expensive decor, at least one poster of a half-naked girl somewhere, probably a basket of clothes that should have been washed weeks ago. And while you knew plenty of guys who fit that description, Katsuki defied expectation. His apartment was always immaculate. His shoes were lined neatly by the door, a calendar above his desk color-coded with assignment due dates, bed made. Katsuki may give off the persona of a punk, but you knew he was a straight-laced nerd through and through.

With the last of your strength, you lugged him across the room, dropping him on his bed. With a groan, you stretched your arms up until you heard a satisfying pop in your back. Hands on your hips, you watched as Katsuki moaned, burying his face in his pillow and pulling his feet up from the floor. You sat on the end of the bed, tugging his feet to you to unlace his shoes. You let them fall haphazardly to the floor, too tired to care about his level of neatness.

You grabbed a bucket from his hall closet, putting it next to the head of his bed for when he inevitably woke up vomiting in the morning. Checking his bathroom, you put a couple of painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand with a post-it note saying “Drink Me.”

Brushing your hands off, you looked around and checked your work. Satisfied that he wouldn’t kill himself between now and when you would inevitably check on him in the morning, you decided it was finally time to head back upstairs and get some well deserved sleep.

But…

You turned back at the door. Katsuki was splayed like a starfish, gently snoring with his mouth wide open. You also noticed his blushing red fluffy cheeks.

You tapped the door knob a few times before sighing in surrender to temptation and turnin back. You knelt down next to the bed. For a moment, you just watched him sleep. He looked so peaceful now. You reached out. Your index finger sunk into his cheek like it was a marshmallow. You couldn’t believe you had never done this before. God, he really was adorable.

Your thoughts were abruptly cut off as Katsuki’s hand shot up and grabbed your wrist with an iron grip. With a shriek, you tried to scramble backwards. Katsuki lazily opened his eyes, not at all bothered by your struggles. With seemingly no effort on his part, he tugged you forward. Off balance, you fell into his chest. Katsuki wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug, slinging a leg over yours, trapping you on the bed.

“Katsuki!” You hissed. You squirmed in his hold, not getting any extra room. He just hummed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You were pretty sure your face was hot enough to start a fire. “Katsuki, let me go!”

“No,” He mumbled. His voice rumbled against your skin sending shivers through your whole body.

“Katsuki!”

“You can’t leave. If you leave, you won’t come back.”

You stopped struggling. “What are you talking about?”

He squeezed you tighter. “I’m loud. I get angry real easy. I fight a lot. And you…” He trailed off, his breath catching and rattling in his chest. “You’re so much better than me. You’re nice and smart and talented and pretty and caring and… and…” You could feel the hot tears landing on your skin. He was starting to shake. His grip had loosened enough for you to get out, but instead you brought your arms up and pulled him in closer. “If I let you go, you’ll see how much better you are than me. And you’ll leave. You’ll leave me because you’re better and you deserve so much better. But I’m a selfish bastard and I just want you for myself because I love you so damn much.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You wiggled your hand up, threading your hand into his hair and tilting his head to look up at you.

“I love you too,” You said softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Katsuki crushed you to his chest, letting out another loud sob. You could feel hot tears pressing against your eyes. You had no idea Katsuki felt this way about anything; about you, about himself, about your relationship.

But one thing you knew for sure: You loved Bakugou Katsuki.

~~~

The first thing Katsuki noticed when he woke up was the head ache. His head felt like he had a railroad spike jammed through his temples. God, what did he do last night? There was the party at Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever house. It’d been fine for a while, hanging out with the guys, playing beer pong, winning some extra cash from freshman in poker (where did he put that money anyway?). And then…

And then someone had said your name. He’d heard it across the room, an amazing feat in and of itself, but his ears were trained for any news of you. He’d jerked up right when he heard it, missing his shot at the beer pong table. He gladly took his drink and went prowling through the house. Who had said your name? Were you here? Were you coming?

It might have been selfish, he knew how much you hated loud crowds, but damn it, he wanted you here. He remembered the last Greek life party you had been at. He’d lost you at some point between getting into an argument with that damn Deku and pulling Denki down from a keg stand. He’d finally found you huddled into some back corner, looking like a rabbit about to dart from a hungry fox (he wouldn’t mind being that fox, honestly, he could eat you right up.) You’d lost the color in your face, hands shaking as you clutched your red Solo cup almost hard enough for your nails to pierce the plastic.

He snatched Kirishima by his collar as he carved a path through the room. He planted the extroverted red-head in front of you, creating an extrovert shield between himself and the love of his life you. He’d spent the rest of the night talking to you. Nothing special, he couldn’t even really remember what about. But he did remember the relaxed slope of your shoulders, the spark in your eyes, the smile that played on your lips at whatever lame joke he had just made.

Back in the present (or last night, whatever), he was still stalking through the halls looking for whoever had mentioned you. He heard it again, the tail end of your name, coming from the living room.

“-(/N) never had it so good.” There he was, lounging along the bottom stairs with a smug look on his face as he regaled the small crowd he had attracted. Katsuki recognized him as one of those legacy kids, the one who showed up to the first day of orientation in a sleek black Bugatti and took up three parking spaces, talked in almost every one of his classes when he even bothered to show up, and was, without a doubt at every party on or off campus.

And now he was telling a story about you. What were you ever doing with an asshole like him?

“You would never guess it from how she dresses, you know,” The guy continued, lazily waving his half-empty beer bottle. “But she is stacked.”

Katsuki tensed up, his heart jumping into his throat. He pushed aside the crowd until he stood right in front of the bragger on the stairs. “What did you just say?” He asked through clenched teeth. “You're talking about (Y/N) (L/N), right?”

He lazily swept his gaze up, grinning wide when he saw Katsuki. “Yeah, (Y/N)? You know, she comes across as a frigid bitch, but let me tell you, she’s an incredible lay.” Katsuki’s vision went red. The crowd started to subtly shuffle away, feeling the cold change in atmosphere. “Not much besides that, honestly. Thank god her tits and ass are amazing, cause her face sure wasn’t doing it for me. Super boring, too, heard she’s failing her classes. Oh, well. Hey, I could use a side-piece when I’m running my own firm, you know?”

The asshole never saw it coming. In the span of a heart beat, Katsuki had grabbed his designer jacket and hoisted him off the stairs, pinning him to the wall so his feet kicked to try and reach the ground.

“You listen to me, asshole,” Katsuki hissed. “You never talk about (Y/N) again. You never look at her, you never talk to your shit-stain friends about her, you sure as fuck never tell another lie about her, or so help me, you’ll get to find out what color your liver is.”

Katsuki was half-way sure the jerk had pissed his pants. He dropped him in a heap, landing in the puddle of spilled beer on the floor. He brushed his hand off on his jeans, eager to get whatever germs the gossip had off him.

He was almost out of ear shot when he heard the rich kid spit and say, “Fine. She’s probably crawling with it if you’re dicking her down.”

The kid’s head made a dent in the wall as he richoched back from the impact of Katsuki’s punch. He would easily have a black eye and a broken nose, the chipped tooth would just be a bonus.

Katsuki’s head was fuzzy with rage, stalked through the house, bee-lining it to the nearest source of inebriation. How dare he? How fucking dare that absolute ass-wipe ever even think of saying such horrible things about you? He wasn’t even worth knowing your name, much less saying it. Not to mention the fact he must be blind to think you were anything less than stunning. Ever since he had known you, you had been nothing but kind and smart and caring and funny and…

“Baku-bro, you doing okay?”

Katsuki didn’t realize how tight he was holding his fists until he relaxed. His nails had made half-moon indents in his palms, his knuckles brushed red from the punch.

Kirishima had his mouth pulled down in that stupid puppy dog pout. “I’m fine,” Katsuki brushed him off. He grabbed a beer out of an iced cooler, twisting off the cap in a single motion and chugging half the bottle.

“Well, that’s good, cause I don’t think Tim Flood is making it out of here without a few stitches.”

“Good.” Katsuki finished the beer and chucked it into a recycle bin. He grabbed another and stalked out of the room. Everything felt too hot, too tight. His head was pounding. If you were here, you’d get a bag of ice and press it against his forehead. You’d probably call him an idiot for getting into another fight, that he needed to learn how to manage his temper better. He’d call you a dumbass but let you lead him away somewhere dark and quiet, away from all the other more insufferable dumbasses. You’d find some pain killers, get him some water, because that’s just the kind of caring person you were. Maybe you’d bring him upstairs, lead him to an unoccupied bedroom. The two of you would sit together on the bed, maybe just a little too close. You’d hand him the water, his hand would brush against yours. You’d look down, shy, blushing cutely. He’d lean forward, thread his hand through your incredibly soft hair, angle your face up to him. Your plush lips would part slightly and he’d lean forward and -

“Are you sure you’re good?” Kirishima asked, abruptly cutting off Katsuki’s impromptu fantasy. “Cause you don’t look so good.” Katsuki bit his tongue. “Is it because of what that guy said about (Y/N)?” Katsuki whipped around, glaring daggers. Kirishima smiled and put his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, bro, it’s okay! No one believed him, anyway.”

Katsuki scoffed, taking a swig of the beer. “(Y/N)’s too good for him anyway.”

“I bet you think (Y/N)’s too good for everyone here, right?”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you need to hurry up and tell (Y/N) you like her!” Sero shouted, jumping in out of nowhere.

Katsuki dropped his bottle, Kirishima catching it just in time, and grabbed Sero by the front of his shirt and lifted him up. Sero just grinned his stupid, wide grin.

“Come on, Katsuki,” Denki said, slinging an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders. “We all know you’ve had a thing for (Y/N) since high school. Why don’t you just put us all out of our misery and tell her already?!”

Katsuki felt his face heat up. “I don’t- I haven’t - Fuck you!” Katsuki couldn’t remember why he was friends with these three idiots as they all burst out into laughter.

He snatched his bottle back and pushed through the crowd. He needed some air. He heard Sero yell after him, “You have to tell her eventually!”

And… That was mostly it. Katsuki’s memories of last night sort of started to trail off after that. He knew that he drank, he drank a lot. At some point he ended up by the pool. And maybe he’d called someone? Oh, hell, he hoped he hadn’t called someone.

His eyes snapped open at the soft groan. There you were, just inches away from his face, fast asleep and tucked in his arms. You were pressed close, breasts pushing against his chest, legs tangled with his, one hand clutching his shirt. Your lips were parted ever so slightly, breathing heavy and even.

And you were so fucking close.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His arms tightened around you and he tensed. How the hell did this happen? Did you actually come to the party last night? When, and why? What had called you down there-?

Oh. Oh, the call! He had called you last night? Some time in his drunken haze he must have figured out to bypass the timed lock he had put on it specifically to avoid calling people with a too-honest tongue. But had you…? Nervously, he looked down. He sighed in relief. You were both still dressed. At least that was one mistake he knew he hadn’t made.

Alright, that was one problem. Now, on to the next one: How was he going to get out of here without waking you up? Craning his head around, he checked out the room. Wait, this was his room. He was in his apartment! A picture of last night started to form in his mind. He’d called you, blabbering God knows what, and then you’d been a good person (why were you such a good person?) and had come to get him, to make sure he was okay. And then what? He’d somehow seduced you into his bed? No, it was more likely you had stayed to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit, maybe sat on the bed because it was the middle of the night and you were exhausted, and then… This.

Okay, okay, no, this was fine, he could fix this. He could slip out, let you keep sleeping. He’d make some breakfast in the kitchen and then you’d wake up, wander in rubbing the sleep from your eyes in that cute way you did when you pulled an all-nighter studying. He’d chastise you for lugging his drunk ass up here, for being out so late at night. You’d wave him off, compliment his cooking, tell him to take better care of himself, and then smile up at him with that blindingly beautiful smile and sparkling eyes.

“Morning.” Katsuki yelped at your greeting. He stared, wide-eyed, down at you, as you look back up at him lazily with those sparkling eyes. “It’s kinda hard to breathe here.” He realized then just how tight he was holding you. He jerked backward, his shout of surprise cut off as he fell off the bed. He rubbed his sore hip, looking up when he heard your giggle. You were leaning over the bed, smiling shyly when he caught you staring.

He gulped hard, feeling his face burning up. “Hi.”

You tucked a loose threat of hair behind your ear. “Hi.”

He should say something. He needed to say something. God, why wasn’t he saying something?

“I-“ Katsuki stopped with an incomplete thought in his mouth. He suddenly felt uncomfortably hot, his stomach clenching and throat going dry. Your face dropped as you lunged forward, dragging a bucket in front of him (where did that even come from?). He surged forward, clenching the sides of the bucket in a white knuckled grip, and threw up.

You slid off the bed and knelt next to him. You rubbed small circles in his back, whispering small comforts as he coughed up bile and alcohol and who knows what else. You reached over behind him and grabbed a glass of water from his nightstand.

“Here,” You said. “Rinse and spit. Don’t swallow or gargle, it’ll just mess with your gag reflex.” Rubbing the spike of pain growing in his forehead, he did what you said. When he caught his breath, he accepted the pain killers you had and dry swallowed them. You really had prepared for everything, huh?

Katsuki shoved the bucket away with his foot, leaning back against the bed. “Fuck…”

You hummed in response and scooted to sit next to him. “So,” You said.

“So,” He said back.

“I don’t suppose you remember much from last night?”

He clenched his jaw, mouth going dryer than it already was, if that was possible. He tried to laugh, but it sounded forced and strained, even to him. “Hey, we’re both still wearing pants, right?” You didn’t laugh back.

“So that’s a no then?” The seriousness with which you said that made him pause.

“I, uh, think I called you?”

“MmHmm. You didn’t sound too great, so I came to pull you out.”

“Huh. Thanks for that.”

“Yup.” You paused for a second. “Do you remember… anything else you said?”

Fuck.

“Uhh, I owe you breakfast?”

You looked away. “Is there anything you maybe told Sero that you wouldn’t want him to tell me?”

Double fuck.

“If this is about Halloween last year, Mina was the one who brought the Ouija board.” He smirked at you, waiting for you to laugh with him. Instead you didn’t even look up, staring a hole in the carpet with the intensity of your gaze.

You let out a sigh through your nose, pushing off your knees to stand. “I’m gonna head out,” You said, rubbing the back of your head and still not looking at him.

Katsuki jumped up, immediately regretting as his head began swimming. “(Y/N), wait-“ He cut himself off with another surge of nausea and lurched towards the bucket.

“Katsuki,” You said, sounding frustrated. “Look, I…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair and turning back to him. “We’ve known each other for a long time now, right? And for all the time I’ve known you, you’ve been stubborn and pig-headed and aggressive and just, you know, you. But still, in all that time, despite everything, I still…” You pressed your lips, looking for the right words. “I’m happy when I’m around you, Katsuki. I feel at ease, I feel protected, I feel like I can be better at anything. And I’ve thought about this a lot, so much that it makes my head spin and my heart hurt, but through all the trouble I still think it’s worth it. Because at the end of the day it means I still get to be with you and sometimes I just feel like that’s enough, but now I…” Your lip was trembling, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. Katsuki wanted nothing more than to take a big step forward and wrap you in the biggest, tightest hug of your life. Finally, you sighed in defeat. “But if you can’t say it, if the One and Only Katsuki Bakugou can’t say it, then how the hell can I?”

Your voice broke on the last word. Katsuki was so stunned and suddenly pinned with guilt that he couldn’t move when you spun on your heels and rushed out of his apartment.

Oh, fuck.

~~~

“Idiot,” You murmured to yourself as you fled up the apartment stairs, furiously wiping at your eyes to get rid of the oncoming tears. “Idiot, idiot, idiot.” By the time you reached your apartment and slammed the door behind you, you weren’t sure if you were talking about Katsuki or yourself.

You felt sick. Anxiety gnawed at your mind like a starving coyote. Had you really just confessed your feelings to Katsuki? Had you really just confessed your feelings to Katsuki like that? Would he ever speak to you again? Would things just become too awkward that you’d be edged out of your friend group? They had known Katsuki much longer than they had known you, after all. God, what if he was calling Kirishima right now and telling him about the disaster of a morning, after you had taken advantage of his blitz out state and slept in the same bed with him?

Well, no. Kirishima was probably still knocked out from his own night of heavy imbibing. Not to mention that even he, the most kind-hearted and patient person you knew, would have to draw a line at listening to Katsuki rant while dealing with a massive hangover.

And no, Katsuki wouldn’t do that to you. Despite his rough deminor, his abrasive personality, and his profane tongue, Katsuki was actually a sweetheart deep down. Maybe really deep down, but still. He wouldn’t be so intentionally cruel, even if you told him that you shared all of his baby pictures of him playing in his All Might onesie online.

So then why were you still huddled on a heap on the floor, back pressed against the front door, crying? Why was this pit of loneliness blooming in your chest?

You yelped at the sudden banging on the door. Who could be here so early in the morning? You had paid rent this month, right? You sniffed, rubbing your eyes and smoothing out your clothes. You hoped your cheeks weren’t the blotchy red they got whenever you were upset. You took a deep breath to steady your voice for whoever was outside.

Opening the door, you looked up at a wide-eyed Katsuki, panting hard with determination set on his face. You groaned internally.

“Katsuki,” You began,” About what I said, I’m sorr-”

Without waiting for you to finish, Katsuki surged forward. You tried to take a step backward, almost falling, but he caught you, a strong grip on your shoulders. Without waiting for you to get your bearings, Katsuki leaned in, smashing his lips against yours.

It wasn’t a graceful kiss, all clashing teeth and urgency rather than romance. His eyes were screwed closed. He stayed pressed against you, not moving, grip so tight on your upper arms you thought there might be a mark later.

Just as suddenly as he had come forward, he jerked back, but kept his hold on you. You both breathed heavily, eyes locked. Your mind whirled, a hundred voices shouting at the same time. For once, you decided to ignore them and let your body do what it wanted.

You reached up, wrapping your arms around Katsuki’s neck and pulled him back in. This kiss was controlled, soft and sweet. His hands dropped from your shoulders to wrap around your waist. He pressed in harder, adding desperation in the kiss, as if he thought you would vanish any second. When you both pulled away this time, he leaned his forehead against yours, noses bumping into each other, sharing the same breath.

His voice was rough. “Sorry,” He said. “I had to brush my teeth first.”

#bnha #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou x reader #reader insert #fanfic #bakugo x reader #wafflefriesfic

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softlee · 4 months

Text

;Submission to Coquette - lee minho.

Pairings: Lee Minho x Reader

Word Count: 7.3K

Genre: pwp (well maybe just a little plot), smut, fluff, established relationship, domestic relationship!AU

Synopsis: You take on the challenge of making your boyfriend "Coquette". Will you succeed? Minho only has so much patience when you request him to be submissive. So, ultimately trying to tie him up and use him might be his breaking point.

Warnings: Minho constrained in pink ribbon. Do I really need to add more? Grinding, Bondage via ribbon I suppose, squirting, light dirty talk, reader attempts to be dominant but really how far can that go with Minho? Oral (female and male receiving), and Minho shenanigans (minho just being minho).

Notes: I was supposed to finish this at the beginning of the year when the coquette trend came out on Tiktok. This trend on TikTok IMMEDIATELY made me think of Minho, I just think this theme fits him perfectly. I mean? When I saw this picture on TikTok of this guy in ribbon my mind immediately went to Minho. I hope you guys enjoy it cause I know I did making it :)

Here's a TikTok off the overall idea/theme of this fanfic: here

ENJOYYYYY :D

With the telling ding of Minho’s cellphone in his left pocket on his way home from work, he already had an inkling on who the sender was.

It was, as he suspected, a message from you—his girlfriend, his girl, his lover, his other half.

But to you? No, you were only his errand runner when it came to things you needed before he made his familiar trail back to your shared apartment.

You: I know you don’t wanna go but can you pleaseeeeeeee get me some pink ribbon before you come home? :) [4:56 PM]

Minho lets out an agitated sigh before washing his hand over his disgruntled worn out face; A repercussion of his stressful day at the office.

He waited for you to finish typing your thoughts because he knew you weren’t done.

You are his other half after all.

You: Please? It’s for you xox [4:57 PM]

“It’s for me?” He exaggeratedly stated in his mind while he skillfully dogged a piece of gum on the sidewalk before trudging forward more.

He scoured every crevice of his mind to come up with the most plausible reasoning as to how himself and pink ribbon correlate in some way.

After a few determined seconds of thinking, he came to the conclusion that there were none and therefore, there was no way in hell he was stopping at the store for pink ribbon of all things. It just wasn’t going to happen. Minho was stubborn and if he set his mind to something, it was going to stay that way. Forever.

Minho isn’t one to be easily swayed.

“I can’t believe you actually stopped to get the ribbon for me!” Minho is greeted at the door of your shared apartment with a love bomb attack. Arms and legs hurling towards him until they somehow get caught into his arms, you attached with them funny enough.

You’re hugging him, and kissing him like this is the last moment you are together. Peppering his nose, forehead, and cheek with kisses before Minho becomes overstimulated by all the touching and he’s grunting in protest and faking a look of annoyance, face scrunching like he’s trying to get away from your assault of love.

He’ll truly never admit it to you but this part of the day, almost like the day was mirroring itself every weekday was his favorite part; you meeting him at the door once you got the satisfying notification that your boyfriend was back home.

Pecking him all over his face like you were some kind of bird.

He’ll never admit it.

The bag with the ribbon of course fell onto the ground when you flung yourself onto him.

Minho with his cat like hearing of course hears this, not even looking.

“Look you probably messed the ribbon up by the way you violently threw yourself at me. It’s almost like you don’t even want it.“ He teases, feeling you slither your way out from the corner of his neck to fully make eye contact with him. The little smirk he has plastered all over his face is slyly gone once you're peering at him.

“Of course I want it! I was just excited to see you! I haven’t seen you all day.“ You whine a little before Minho gives you a glaring stare, of course none other than to surprise you with a peck to the lips, softly letting you down onto the hardwood floor.

You quickly swoop to floor level to retrieve the bag with your latest conquest, discarding the bag and holding the spool of pretty pink silk ribbon in your hands before you wiggle your eyebrows in what he would expect to be a playful way.

“This.” You point at the ribbon, “is going on you.” You smile enthusiastically, pulling your boyfriend by the arm to walk him over to the couch.

He feigns annoyance, throwing his head back in an exaggerated way while making an ungodly noise. He looks like a little boy who is being dragged by his mother because he’s gotten in trouble.

“Can I at least eat first? I'm tired and just got back from work.” Indirectly trying to crawl his way out of whatever the hell you were trying to do; Minho wasn’t going to let you win without a fight. That’s just how he’s always been. He’ll nag and nag some more, but since he loves you, he'll eventually give up.

Right?

“I promise if you do this for me right now, I’ll make you something yummy.” You traverse your eyes on his own, watching as you get no physical reaction out of him.

He plops down onto the couch.

You stand in front of him, both hands on your hips quicking scanning your brain to figure out what exactly you can make to get him to comply.

Suddenly a light bulb switches on in your mind and you gleam, crawling into your boyfriend's lap, disregarding the ribbon on the side of the couch for right now.

Throwing your hands around his neck, “How about ramen and kimchi? I think we still have some kimchi left over.” You swivel your head over to the direction of the refrigerator. In comparison, Minho refuses to acknowledge you on his lap, the dinner choices, and how you on his lap is suddenly clouding his judgment.

You turn back to face him.

“I’ll make you some pork belly too?” Suddenly Minho is intrigued, giving you his full-facing attention before a little smirk takes over his face, unable to contain how good that sounds in reality.

Suddenly intrigued by the music in the background he didn’t seem to hear at first, he looks at the TV behind you.

“Were you just about to play Fortnite before I came in?” He randomly asks in the midst of you discussing dinner options.

Brows twisted in confusion for a second, they return to their natural state when you remember that you were indeed about to play Fortnite.

“Oh, yeah I was. The season is almost over and they had Poison Ivy in the Item Shop! I had to get her and play a couple of matches with my new skin!” You protest, feeling the warmth of your boyfriend’s arms slide around your waist, fastening you to his body.

He displays a toothy grin at your comment. “You’re such a nerd.” Yet when he states this comment, you see nothing but love in his eyes. You smile as well, not about to let him get away with his words.

“Well, you can’t be the one to talk! You also-”

“Fine, I’ll do it. Now hurry up before you change my mind.” He suddenly states, grasping the ribbon in his palm before he looks up to literally see you light up at the words.

That’s all he had to say, you immediately withdrew yourself from the warmth of Minho’s lap, telling him to stay put while you go to collect a few necessary items to make your dreams come true.

You come back in record time, three minutes; Minho watches the array of items engulfed in your arms as you make it back to the sofa of your living room, dropping the items onto the coffee table as if they were somehow heavy.

“Alright,” You grab the black shirt from the assortment on the table, “Let’s put you into this shirt first.”

You turn the shirt inside out, showing him that it indeed wasn’t a plain black shirt like he thought. It was decorated with the words, ‘I love my girlfriend’ right where the top of his chest would be centered if he were to put it on. The word ‘love’ instead being a familiar red heart.

He chuckles out of bewilderment, eyes turning into your favorite half moons.

“When did you get this shirt for me?” He’s intrigued.

“I got it about a week ago in preparation for this exact moment!” You wink at him softly, getting closer to him sitting on the sofa.

“So you’ve been planning this huh?” His eyes are wide, trying to figure out exactly what your evil plans had in store for him.

He tries to grab for the shirt so that he can put it on, but you bring it closer to yourself, shaking your head.

“You said you were tired right? I’ll put it on for you.” He throws his arms down, somehow not making a fuss about you doing this for him.

“Wowwwww,” you’re amazed, he’s glaring whilst he holds his arms up above his head, waiting for you to pull the shirt he’s been wearing all day, off.

You reach for the ends of his shirt, pulling upwards, “You’re so obedient right now.” You tease, getting him out of his shirt before you reach for the one you’re exchanging it for.

You’re now sitting down on his lap again, looking up at him while you get the shirt into formation so you can pull it over his head. He obviously didn’t like what you stated, his dark brown eyes beaming intensely into your own.

You look down quickly to run away from them, meeting direct eye contact with his bare chest. He was definitely getting more toned, the lines of his abs becoming more visible.

Before you could let his naked upper body distract you, you decide to pull the shirt over his head, and watch as you pull each arm one by one into the short sleeves.

His hair gets ruffled in the process, looking like he just woke up from a nice long nap.

“Cute.” You giggle at this, before you smooth his hair out, back to its familiar state before you’re taking him all in with the shirt now on, smiling again.

Minho of course doesn’t like such comments, narrowing his eyes and trying to make himself more intimidating by giving you his signature gaze; eyebrows furrowed and lips in a tight line.

It doesn’t work on you though, he just looks even cuter earning a hearty chuckle at your motion as you throw your head back.

You turn around in his lap, eyeing the other items plastered on the table as well. You lose balance a little while doing this, so as Minho does with his quick reflexes, he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Next,” You grab an assortment of your most valuable plushies. “I’m gonna put these around you before we start.”

Minho’s eyes washes over your brightly colored plushies; Kuromi, Hello Kitty, and some other bunny looking creatures he’s forgotten the name’s of. Regardless, he watches you in fascination as you start to place each plushie, one by one onto the sides of him, in the corner where his left shoulder rests, and one remaining one (one of the bunnies) in between where you and Minho meet on his lap.

He raises one eyebrow.

“So, where does the ribbon come in with all of this?” He questions, your hands reaching behind you on the table once more to secure the scissors in your hands.

You also obtain the ribbon that fell between the cracks of the couch cushions, before you gleam at him. “Right now actually. I’m going to make you coquette.”

You gleam.

“Coquette?” He’s so puzzled he manages another smirk, letting out a breathless chuckle.

You hum in agreement, delicately brushing a hair that has decided to fall where Minho’s left eye lays, his eye twitching in the process.

“I saw this Tiktok trend where girls would tie their boyfriends up with ribbons, and put bows made of ribbon on them. I’ve been wanting to do the same to you in private…. and hopefully get some pictures out of it.” You gulp after saying the last sentence. You look down to see that Minho has now closed his eyes. He breathes exaggeratingly outwards, almost like he’s trying to compose himself.

“So, you’re doing this because really you want to see me tied up and you want pictures of that?” You instantly turn red, quicking seeking cover into his neck to hide how shy you feel when you say, “Yeah, I think it’s hot. It’s one of the things I’ve always wanted to do to you.”

No matter how hard you sometimes tried to hide your motives Minho always saw right through them. He can read you like a book, and that’s truly why you always just plainly tell him what you’re doing before you do things.

You slowly uncover yourself from the shelter of his neck, finally peering at him to discover he already is, “One of the things?”

Too embarrassed to even mention what else you’ve always wanted to do to him, you reposition the scissors and ribbon in your hands and start measuring how big you want the bows to be. “Hmmm, how many should I put on you?” You successfully dodge the remark as he crosses his arms, glaring at you and your lack of response.

You squint your eyes while looking over his figure, deciding mentally to place two bows on him while tying his arms up.

You hold your left hand out like you're waiting for him to give you something.

“Give me your arms so I can tie them up.” You demand.

Intrigued, Minho does as you say. “How would you like me to place them?”

Demonstrating, “Lay them flat out where the sides of my hips are.” The warmth of his touch suddenly surrounds your body once more, Minho covering all of your senses. His perfume still lingering from the reminisces he covered himself in this morning before heading to work, his magnetic gaze that was locked on you and your movements, his voice which suddenly woke you out of your Minho heightened trance, and as for taste….well you were already craving him in more ways than one since he was being like putty in your hands right now.

His lenient mannerisms and compliancy this evening were working you up in all the right ways.

“I’m waiting for you to tie me up?” His voice continues. It startles you in some way, never imagining you’d hear those words come out of your mouth. His brow ticks.

“Oh…right.” You begin lacing the ribbon in a tying motion, starting just short of where his biceps start.

Minho wasn’t one to be submissive. Everytime you guys engaged in sex, he always naturally was the one to take control. It was just in his nature and it was just in yours to be more submissive, complying to almost anything he proposed. And of course, you thoroughly enjoyed it.

Although, after being together for about a year and two months, you were ready to try something new. Unbeknownst to Minho, you are actually a switch. Yet after the beginning of your relationship you retired that part of yourself naturally when it came to him, since he was very dominant.

So when you found this trend, you got the sudden urge to try something new and spice up your sex life with your boyfriend.

And it wasn’t like you guys were vanilla, but you usually stuck to the things that were not foreign to you as a couple. But, you were ready to step out of that comfort zone.

And right now, it seems like Minho isn’t too opposed to such an idea. That gives you the confidence to continue.

You finish your makeshift confinements on your boyfriend’s arms by cutting and wrapping the ribbon in a bow before you admire your handiwork.

You softly smile in satisfaction.

“Alright, now I’ll make a few more bows and stick them to you in different areas.” You look back down at Minho’s arms, “Is it tight or can you easily get out of the ribbon?”

“I mean, I can’t really get out of it, but if I wanted to then yeah I could.” He answers vaguely before humming, agreeing with himself.

You narrow your eyes, deciding to trust him.

You make the two bows you plan to plant on him and then begin to place them.

Taking one of them and putting them on his head, he just stares at you as you manage to securely place it on his black hair so it isn’t easy for it to fall off. Then lastly, you settle with putting the last ribbon in a peculiar spot. Right on his crotch.

You press it in for good measure, causing Minho to simultaneously move his hands to grip your ass as he lifts his hips, somehow to chase the feeling of your hands ghosting over his dick. He clears his throat after showing a sign of weakness, looking away from you but not shying his hands away from your ass.

He actually chooses to grip onto it harder.

You tilt your head in feigned curiosity and innocence.

“You alright?”

He seems dazed because he doesn’t answer you for a beat.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m good. What made you choose to place it there?” He questions, now looking up and directly into your irises.

You shrug, actually not having a particular reason. You just wanted to see how he would react.

You hum to yourself like you’re somewhat proud of your work.

“So coquette.” You drop this outlandish word again, Minho having enough of not understanding exactly what the hell it means.

“What? What does that even mean?”

“It just means you look pretty I guess. I don’t really know what it means either. It’s just a Tiktok trend.” You slowly start rubbing your hands over his shoulders, letting them fall downwards into his lap. You decide to unleash yourself of his hold by standing up quickly.

You search for your phone, grabbing it off the coffee table and positioning it in front of him to signal you want your photos like promised.

He doesn’t look pleased.

“Give me a pretty smile!” You give an example of your own before you’re waiting for him to repeat the action. It goes by ignored, instead being met with a nonchalant gaze that screams “I’m being held hostage. Please help me.”

You frown.

“Please smile. You’re not aligning with what your shirt says. Don’t you love me?” You whine.

‘Oh, so you’re pulling that card huh.’ He thinks.

He smirks.

“Yeah, I heart you. Just like the shirt says.” He goes for the literal meaning of the shirt, wanting to visibly displease you.

You pout.

“You’re so annoying.”

Finished with the photo torture time, you throw your phone on the other couch in fake irritability, turning to face him yet again while standing.

You give him a glance over and then softly smile, picking up your arms to do away with your shirt first and then your pants. You were wearing just some comfortable clothing; An old ‘May the force be with you’ Stars Wars T-shirt paired with the Yoda printed sweatpants you frequented about once a week. It was nothing too fancy of course. What came as a surprise was what was under it.

In preparation for the evening, you wanted to dress up for your boyfriend. Specifically in lingerie. White lingerie.

Whenever you wanted to spice up your sex life, or suprise him, you always took extra care of yourself. This meant taking an “everything” shower, putting on perfume, doing your hair, as well as doing some light makeup. And your choices for lingerie sets always happened to be in the colors you thought that looked best on you; red, black, and sometimes your favorite nude set.

About two weeks ago, Minho suggested that you try a lingerie set in white, as he thought you would also look sexy in that color as well. He liked the other sets, but he thought that color would really look good on you. You were a little hesitant at first, but his suggestion paired with a kiss on your forehead, his credit card, as well as the words “surprise me” were all you needed to go out of your comfort zone.

And hell, it surely did surprise him.

You slowly saunter up to him, getting right back into your claimed spot, his lap (throwing the bunny plushie somewhere else on the couch), and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Do you think this color fits me babe?” You rapidly bat your eyelashes, obviously fishing for compliments. Minho's annoyance from earlier, sleepiness, and hunger completely fades away. His mouth slowly parting in awe.

“Of course it fits you, you look in anything. God.” He groans, trying to take you all in.

It was a simple dainty set. A white ribbed corset top with shoulder straps as bows which you tie at the shoulder. There was a collage of cotton flowers joined at the middle of the top, a decorative touch to the already light and airy feel of the lingerie. The bottoms were plain panty underwear, the same cotton flowers in the middle of them as well.

You looked so good. That’s what he thought to himself before he realized that he had to, no needed to touch you. Right now.

Right as he does so, his body moving at will is obstructed by the familiar feel of the pink ribbon you had just adorned to his arms, securing him in place.

“Fuck,” He whines, almost like he’s in pain, “And I can’t even fucking touch you right now?” With all the strength he can muster, he tries to pull outwards to break the ribbon, but he’s too slow. You already knew he’d try something like that, so you, in defense, hold his arms in place.

Suddenly feeling red, you look down.

“You can’t touch me or get out of this ribbon until I say so. You have to do as I say tonight.” Shy, you slowly look up at him again, noticing that his whole demeanor has changed since you’ve uttered those words.

A light airy chuckle escapes him before he can even hide it.

“What, are you controlling me tonight? Gonna use me?”

His teasing tone almost sounds like a challenge. He doesn’t think you can do it. Your confidence grows in opposition.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be the dominant one tonight.” You lean in, ghosting over his lips, “And you won’t cum until I say you can.”

You fully press your lips onto his, pulling him as close as you can by wrapping your arms around his neck again, getting a high off of you being the one to order him around tonight.

It gave you a sense of confidence you’ve never felt when having sex with him, his light moan giving you the confirmation you need to kiss him with a little more fervor.

You slowly begin to start your pace, your hips beginning to gyrate over the crotch of his black jeans. You feel him reach for you, for something, his hands attempting to latch over the bottom of your ass.

You smack his hands away, pulling away from the kiss. He desperately chases. You stop your pace.

“You can’t touch me,” You echo again, “I can only touch you? Got it?” Your palms are covering his own, proving your point that he had to do as instructed or he wouldn’t be able to have you. Not in the way he wanted. He throws his head back, as that's the only disobedient way he can act out right now, his long strands of hair sheltering his eyes.

“Fine, have your way with me. I’ll see how long it’ll truly last. You know you love it when I tell you what to do. When I tell you to fuck yourself on my cock. When I have you cum multiple times on my tongue before I even begin to fuck you. I may not be able to touch you, but I can say whatever I want to you and you’ll be begging me to touch you. ” He mutters, shifting his body deeper into the couch.

His words send a shiver through your body, the remaining of it fading right into your core. Truly, he was right. You loved it when he touched you, it’s how you completely got off. Yet, somehow denying yourself the satisfaction of feeling his touch and edging yourself was making you wetter than you could even believe.

To you, this was foreplay, and getting the privilege of having Minho in this way was what you could only dream for. You couldn't imagine though, even in your dreams, how he would react to you taking control. That’s what led you to this moment, once again leaning back down to the crook of his neck, whispering.

“It’s just something I’ve always dreamed of doing to you. It’s one of the things I’ve been wanting to do with you, to you. Now, let me fuck you my way.” You truthfully speak, setting your motion against the fabric of his pants again.

Your boyfriend stays silent, once before being able to stare daggers into your soul, now avoiding eye contact all together. He was clearly flustered. You could tell because he was starting to fill up the space in his pants, his length slowly hardening below you.

“Awe babe, you’re already getting hard. Tell me how good it feels? Hmm?” You push your pelvis harder into his lap, wanting to get a reaction out of him.

It’s quiet for a moment. Minho desperately tries not to moan to show the effect you have on him before he gains his composure enough to speak.

“Tell you how good it feels? How about you stop this charade and explain why you’re already this fucking wet? I can literally feel it through my pants already.” He spits out through his breathing which is slowly getting shallower and shallower. His ears are red, this is how you could tell he was turned on, even if he wouldn't admit it.

“Of course I’m wet, I have my-” You moan, “My boyfriend in a way I’ve always wanted”

You continue your rebellious movement of your hips against his hardened cock, gasping when it hits your clit in a harmonious way. You look down at your panties, expecting to see your arousal escaping from the thin layer of fabric that is holding you all together.

To your dismay, there was no visible evidence that you were incredibly wet. But, because of Minho’s comment earlier, you decide to take two of your fingers and check, feeling the remnants of your arousal, making you groan.

He watches you in suspicion, noticing the way your fingers were easily sliding over the laced cotton of your underwear. His mouth involuntarily opens in awe.

“Ugh, I’m so wet. I’m gonna use you to cum. You can’t take your eyes off of me, okay?” For good measure, you lightly tease your fingers that you just used to touch yourself over his soft lips, Minho taking no time to lick your wetness off your fingers before you lightly rest your hand under the left side of his chin, forcing him to watch you reach your high.

In reality, you didn’t even need to do this, he was going to observe regardless.

You pick up your pace, grinding up and down and then swirling your hips on his as your moaning gets louder. Your other hand stabilizes yourself on his chest while you begin to melt into your high, the line blurring between where your pleasure starts, and where you end.

Minho throbs below you, eagerly waiting for you to ride out your orgasm.

You cum, staring directly into his eyes, rocking back and forth slower to balance out your pleasure. You sigh as you come back to your senses, your hand balling up into a fist to pull your boyfriend closer to you for an everlasting kiss.

Minho moans into the kiss like he’s cum himself, but truthfully, it was because of the way you just used him to get yourself off. Since he couldn’t touch you, he was feeling very understimulated. He was burning for desire for you, its imminence in the way he still continuously pulses below in your lap as you finish kissing him.

You get up from off of his lap and sit on your knees below him on the floor.

“You’re awfully quiet now, what happened to your cockiness?” You smirk, grabbing an elastic band on the coffee table to collect your hair out of your face.

Your boyfriend decides to stay mute, watching you do away with your hair as you begin to graze your hands up his thighs, your hands meeting at the buckle of his belt.

You unclasp it, looking up at him to see what he’s doing to see that he’s admiring you contently. You look back at your task at hand, pulling at the belt as Minho simultaneously lifts his hips so you can remove it.

Currently, you’re wondering why he is so quiet. Did he finally submit? Was he so stunned at your ability to dominate that he was okay with you having your way with him? Or was it because he was so turned on that he couldn’t speak, his flushed body a solid indicator. But his body always gets slightly red when you guys have sex, so that couldn’t be it.

You don’t let these thoughts bother you anymore, you decide maybe it’s a combination of everything, becoming overconfident in the job that you were doing. You let this spur you on, pulling both his pants and underwear down at once to free his hard cock. He lifts the bottom part of his body, viewing the way you let both articles of clothing to collect at his ankles, not fully taking them off.

You were too focused on what was in front of you, him rock hard. You grab at his length, eyeing him to notice that his breath hitches, your hands beginning an up and down motion.

His hips follow the rise and fall of your delicate hands, his breath quickening. The scene placed in front of you was heating up your body. You’ve never seen him this pliant under your hand, so eager, so willing to follow or let you command or do whatever you wanted to him. You’re not even being touched, yet your breath follows in sync with him, steadily increasing.

Noticing he’s still quiet, it starts to concern you. Trying to busy yourself to distract from his silence, you lock eyes with him once again, noting that he was peering at you before you even were. You softly simper, pushing your head down until you take him all in one go, now breaking eye contact to focus on sucking him.

As you embark on bobbing your head over his throbbing length, multiple things happen at once. At the same time, you hear something snapping and a piece of clothing falling onto the floor. A split second after, you’re moaning over his length, not because it was bringing you pleasure, but because you were being pulled quickly off of his dick. Your eyes go wide once you realize what happened, it comes together when your back hits the arm of the couch with Minho on top of you.

He broke free.

Your mouth is open in shock as his mischievous smile stares down at you.

“Minh-” Calling his name, he managed while freeing himself, to collect the ribbon you had used on him. He was pulling your arms above your head as you were trying to get your sentence out.

Minho successfully traps you in your own game. Similar to him before, your hands were now tied with pink ribbon at the wrist, you bewildered at the whole situation. He changed the game.

He softly pulls you down the couch a little so your arms are comfortable above your head. Then, he leans down to give you a quick soft kiss.

“Got you.” He arrogantly declares, reaching his hand over the table in front of the couch to grab the scissors, so he could cut the endless length of the ribbon he had tied to your wrists.

He places the scissors back onto the table.

“But I was supposed to be the dominant one tonight.” You pout.

“And you did good babe, but you know you love it when I touch you,” He leans in to trail kisses down the corner of your neck, listening as he hears you groan, “and kiss you, “his hands start to graze your body before it gets to your pussy, cupping you between your legs, “and fucking you open with my tongue.” You let out an embarrassing loud moan, not being phased by it since Minho loved to hear you.

His kisses, which stopped just before your covered breasts, continue their pace until he’s leaving a trail down your stomach, purposely skipping over your throbbing core to kiss the inside of your thighs. Your whole back arches off the couch, whining when you can’t push Minho’s head in the place you need him most.

He chuckles.

“Now you see how I felt when I couldn’t touch you hmm? It was killing me watching you grind on me when I couldn’t push your hips or when you took me all the way into your mouth and I couldn’t push your head down.” His kisses start getting closer to your pussy once more.

He teases as if he’s about to kiss your core over the thin fabric of your underwear. Instead, he stops his mouth just before he reaches it, talking right into your heat.

“It’s not fun is it? You better be glad I lasted as long as I did in that ribbon.” He explains, looking directly into your eyes.

You throw a fit, your legs shaking on the sides of him in annoyance because he won’t touch you where you needed him.

He lets you out of your misery finally as you are whining, the whining turning into a satisfied hum when he latches his touch onto the soaked cotton of your underwear. He groans when he tastes you on the material, taking his time to lap up the juices spilling out.

“Touch me.” You cry, rolling your body towards his lips, wanting more.

Minho ticks his brow and lets out an airy chuckle. “I am touching you babe.”

He finds you cute and decides to give in to your requests since he knew what you meant.

He tugs at your underwear which is clinging to the sides of your hips, pulling them down your legs until they're out of the way, throwing them carelessly onto the floor somewhere.

You ache in anticipation for him to mouth at you, watching him get back into position to give you what you desired most at this moment; his mouth fully on you.

The moment his lips kiss softly at your clit, you begin to see stars. He proceeds to lick you straight after, your head throwing back in immense pleasure.

“Fuck,” You groan, your eyes following your head and rolling back.

“Tell me how you feel ___.” He chimes, watching as your body tenses below him. It turned him on to great heights to see you this fucked out, his hips rocking into the couch to relieve himself.

“Good.” You manage to get out between shaky breaths, Minho sucking at your clit before he licks a long stripe across the span of your pussy, him humming into you in satisfaction. You feel the vibration of his groaning below you, adding to the pleasure and washing an intense feeling throughout your body. You were close, and you needed something to grip onto.

Normally, when you were about to cum from Minho eating you out, you had your hands clutching to the back of his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to your pussy. It helped you balance the unstable feeling that overcame your body whenever you were about to release. Now, since your hands were tied, you couldn’t brace yourself. You didn’t know what was about to happen with this knot in your stomach when you were about to release at any second.

All you could do was announce it.

“I-I’m about to cum. Minho, I can’t, I don’t know ho-” You lewdly rushed, your body beginning to shake in cosmic tension.

Too busy with the objective of making you cum, he lifts his left arm out to successfully hold your hand, nonverbally letting you know that he has you and that you’re okay.

The wave of your pleasure strikes down like a tide that is beginning to crash down onto the shore of a beach, strong yet beautiful. It collects into one singular emotion before it releases in one single motion, Minho lapping at your pussy as you let go. Your body spasms as your orgasm comes to its final end, a gush of remaining pleasure that wasn’t released at that one moment, now finally letting go.

With your eyes closed, you try to collect your breathing before you hear your boyfriend louding moaning below you, grabbing your attention. You look down, eyes widening in shock.

Minho’s face was completely wet, a few front pieces of his hair that frames his face damp as well. As you put two and two together, you drop your jaw in collective embarrassment surprise.

You just squirted on your boyfriend’s face.

Because of this stupid ribbon, you can’t even cover your face, having to watch him as his ears quickly become red again, the flushing slowly diffusing to his face.

You physically can't talk right now, not when you just squirted all over his face. It could have been anywhere else, yet it had to be there the first time you squirt. You close your eyes, waiting for him to say something, anything to get rid of this terrible silence.

Quickly, you feel him shuffle and he’s on top of you now, passionately kissing your lips. You slowly start to kiss him back and slowly open your eyes, feeling him grind his bare cock on your wet pussy. You groan before he detaches.

He looks you dead in the eyes.

“I literally had to stop myself from cumming after you just squirted all over my face. Fuck, that was the hottest shit I’ve ever seen in my life. You’re perfect.” He goes in to peck your lips once more before he squabbles off of you a bit to grab the scissors again, cutting away your restraints.

Suddenly, you’re no longer embarrassed. Sharing the same soft loving smile he gives you as he cuts your ribbon off.

He once more places the scissors safely back on the table before he brings his attention back to you, laying on top of you again.

He searches your eyes.

“Got one more orgasm in you? Let me make love to you.” He softly speaks, waiting for your approval. You nod, excited since you can actually grip his hair now and touch him. You’re sure he’s in pain now since he’s been hard for a while. He always makes sure you orgasm first before he does.

He starts by tugging at the left and right bows of your corset top which are keeping it on you. You arch your back, waiting for your boyfriend to unzip the corset so you’re free. He discards it onto the ground. Then he lowers himself and latches onto your left nipple, observing as you wilt in pleasure, you pressing his head down closer as he grips at your right breast with his other hand.

He again grinds his pulsing cock into your center, humming into your tit.

Realizing something, you softly push him off of you. He looks at you concerned.

“My plushies!” You suddenly realized your near and dear plushies were probably getting squeezed on the couch under Minho’s legs. He quickly searches for them, pulling all three from under his weight and putting two of them on the side where your head was, while he remains holding one of them.

“What?” You look at him bewildered like he doesn’t realize how important they are to you. Minho doesn’t understand, so trying to fix the problem, he covers the eyes of the one he’s holding, as if they aren’t supposed to see us naked.

You laugh wholeheartedly, “You’re so weird,” You tease, “I just didn’t want them to get squished before we continued.”

“Oh.” He states, like saving them was the most important thing in the world right now.

Knowing he’s done with you right now because you stopped having sex with him to save your expensive plushies, you push him to sit on the couch below you while you sit on his lap.

“Now, I’ll fuck you since my stuffed animals are unharmed.” You tease before you softly smirk.

You bring your hand to the middle of your bodies, aligning his cock to your entrance before you slowly sit directly on him, taking him all the way in.

He groans, swiftly holding onto your hips to help stabilize you as you bounce on top of you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, now staring at him.

“Now, admit that me being dominant does turn you on.” You playfully suggest, circling your hips on his lap as you continue your pace. You moan, leaning down to kiss his lips before you await his response.

“Of course it turns me on, but-” He holds you harder at your hips. “I just like fucking you more.”

He lifts his hips off of the couch, and begins a ruthless upward pace into you, completely taking you off guard. You hold onto anything you can find, dumbfounded that Minho’s stamina can reach even higher heights.

You moan repeatedly, letting him pound into your pussy below you as you feel another orgasm approaching. You don’t even have to let him know you’re about to cum, he can feel it with the way you go silent, and the sudden tight grip you have around his cock that is also stringing him closer to his own release.

Minho starts to sweat, his stamina even putting a toll on himself. Thank god he and you were about to cum soon.

Your eyes begin to roll back, his pounding finally demolishing you from above him even though you were the one that had the power in this position.

You cum without warning, legs squeezing as close as they can below you as you fall, laying your head into the corner of your boyfriend's neck, utterly spent. Minho keeps up his pace, signaling to himself that now that you’ve cum that he doesn’t have to hold back anymore.

He slows his motion, instead replacing it with a hard lingering pounding into your pussy. He cums just like that, quick and with a loud grunt. He wraps his arms around your back, hugging you softly as he comes back down from his high. He finishes off by pecking your forehead with a soft “I love you” that he didn’t say earlier when you put the shirt on him. You wrap your arms around him in return and squeeze, letting him know you heard him.

After a few minutes of recovering, you leave the comfort of his neck, sitting up in his lap to look into his brown eyes.

He smiles at you. You lift your hand to move the strands of hair in front of his eyes.

Then suddenly, he’s chuckling, then full out laughing.

Your eyebrows twist in confusion.

He speaks.

“You know…we just fucked to the Fortnite loading screen music this whole time?” Refusing to believe him, you listen closely to your surroundings, noticing some music.

Omg, it was the Fortnite loading music.

You throw your head back in a fit of giggles.

“Either way, I’ll be glad to make you squirt again if this is the kind of music that you're into, we can make a playlist.” He teasingly comments.

You playfully hit him softly before you’re covering your face in embarrassment, revisioning the whole encounter with the background music.

This was my first ever fanfic on this account! Let me know what you think! :)

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embarrasingmf · 2 months

Text

a surprising discovery

PAIRING: TFW (dean, sam, and castiel) x reader (platonic, ofc)

A/N: I had such a bad headache while making this drabble / fanfic (i’m leaning more towards drabble now that i have finished writing..)

SUMMARY: After finding a baby on a hunt, you and the boys have no idea what to do or how to take care of it.. until they discover something surprising about you.

While on a grueling hunt dealing with shapeshifters, you four had found a baby. A baby, of all things.

Dean didn’t really want to take it back to the bunker, thinking it would be another Bobby John type situation, but you and Sam had managed to convince him otherwise.

So now, here you guys were, all looking down at the baby sitting contently in a wooden crib. Their big, innocent eyes flickering from one person to another.

“So, what the hell are we gonna do with ‘em?” Dean asked gruffly, his arms crossed.

You looked over at Dean, raising an eyebrow. “Well we gotta take care of the little guy for at least a little bit.” Sam nodded in agreement with your statement.

You had focused back on the baby and leaned down a little bit, to which they let out a giggle and kicked its chubby legs.

A small yet fond smile curled on your lips. You had some experience with children considering you babysat during your teenage years before you got into hunting.

Castiel, Sam, and Dean had busied themselves with discussing a plan on what to do while you interacted with the baby.

They reached their chubby arms out in a silent and clear demand to be held. You complied almost immediately, your heart squeezing at how cute this little thing was.

Once the baby was settled in your arms, you held them against your shoulder. They squealed happily and started patting your face, exploring the expanse of skin with small hands.

…

“Since when did you know how to handle a baby?” Sam’s questioning voice broke you out of whatever happy-baby-trance you were in and you turned on your heel to face him.

“Uh,” You paused, your tongue briefly darting out to wet your lips. “I used to babysit around my neighborhood before I got into huntin’.”

“Oh so you’re like a baby whisperer, huh?” Dean smirked, his eyes drifting over to the baby who was giving you a gummy smile.

You shrugged, a smug smile forming on your face. “Guess so.”

Castiel, who had been silent for most of the time, finally spoke up. “They do seem to like you, not that they really interacted with the rest of us yet.”

You hummed, eyebrows knitting together a tad as you realized that at least one of them would want to possibly hold the baby.

“Anyone wanna hold ‘em?” You held out the baby at arms length, who started fussing as soon as they registered they were too far away from you.

“…or maybe not.” You added as an afterthought, bringing the baby back to your chest so they wouldn’t start crying.

As soon as the baby was tugged back towards you, they snuggled up to your chest, letting out a small yawn and their tiny fists clutching onto the collar of your flannel.

“Looks like they’re getting ready for a nap.” Castiel said matter-of-factly.

Sam chuckled quietly, “yeah, to be honest, I don’t even think they’ll let you put them down so you might have to keep carrying them.”

You laughed, nodding.

You realized that you probably didn’t want to stand and hold a baby so you prompted to move to the main room of the bunker so all of you could relaxing after the hunt and new, temporary addition to the team.

—————————————————————————

if you enjoyed pls like and reblog bc then it’ll give me motivation to make more stuff like this in the future! :D

#supernatural x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #team free will #tfw #spn #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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noemilivv · 6 months

Note

HIIII MOOTIE MIO DAHLING HOW ARE YOU????? I saw requests are open and while I was watching youtube I had an idea and I wanted to see how this would go, of course if you don’t wanna do this request feel free to decline it but anyways—!

Could I request Lucifer x GN! Reader who’s best friends with Adam? :0 maybe luci gets jealous when they see reader and adam having fun together and all of that and then you can decide what can go on from there?

I might request a Adam version if you don’t mind… but anyways, thank you so much!! :D

𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐦’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐜𝐬 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

a/n: hey jax!! sorry i got to this so late, hope you enjoy ^^

proofread: no

tags: adam, hazbin hotel, lucifer morningstar, fanfic, x reader

at first, he's not unaccepting per say, just a bit confused… like why would you want to be friends with someone like that?

but after awhile, he grows to get used to it, still doesn’t quite understand it though :’)

for adam, he will most likely make comments towards lucifer, which can spark something’s here and there but quite honestly, they grew used to eachother

key word: used to eachother — by no means do they like eachother XD

in adam’s opinion, he just thinks you could do better than some low-life depressed duck lover, but if you’re happy, than he’ll try not to judge… as much

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.

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qipoth · 4 months

Text

SAGAU - SAHSRAU IDEA

𒂭۪۪۪۪᳝۟ ━╋ ♪ •̩̩͙*˚ ❀

Yeah but this is a idea that is rotting my brain all over the week-

IMAGINE that you have an OC (almost self insert) for the game that you have been playing recently...And somehow, The voicelines are acting strange... Mentioning some unknown character (It names casually after your Oc) that has no been appeared....

Is just a coincidence...

You think that all of this is just a new character that is just gonna come the next version because is all that hoyoverse always do when a character is gonna come out. But the next version hits and is no character with the qualities that has been mentioned in.... And the signs is just getting more and more evident!!!!

And when you are exploring you see a new room for the faction that you always wanted to be part of it

And when you enter the room is the perfect room you ever imagined from you Your OC!!!

All of this is just strange... What is Hoyoverse cooking this time?? You think.....

But meanwhile in the universe, everything is in chaos, because the gaze of their almighty creator has been disappeared everyone is in panic

D-did they did something wrong?!?!

A-a-are you mad at them!?!?!?

DO YOU GET BORED OF THEM!?!!

But then, in this chaos it appears a new character!!! Everyone is stunned, because you. They hold the oh so divine essence of his creator!! Not even the Mc has that!! And the gaze returns even more warm, loving and gentle, like it is telling them that you bring them one part of you to them!!!!

You love them so much, right?

And the character asks to join to the traveler & paimon/Astral Express!! They are sooo lucky! So you get to travel with them

Don't pay attention to the obsessive eyes and glares that everyone has to you, the cligniness and the jealous glares that they trown to each other<3333

After all, you don't have to be worried to get hurt, they will protect you, At. every. cost.

Howdie!!!!<3

I'm not new in the community of Self-Aware, but I am new at all of this of the brainrot and fanfics!

I will be posting some ideas that I have or fanfics that it might be for there, also, you can use the ideas for the fanfics!! Just pls give credit...

So, I hope that my fanfics & ideas will be good for you!!!

Also I finally gain courage to write my own self aware blog pls be good

#yandere sagau #yandere hsr #yandere genshin impact #yandere honkai star rail #genshin sagau #honkai star rail #sagau cult au #sahsrau #self insert #gender neutral reader #cult au #yandere genshin x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #gn reader

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yuurei20 · 4 months

Note

Sorry if this was asked/addressed before, but do you consider the Twisted Wonderland Novels to be canon compliant, canon divergent, or maybe a little bit of both? Thank you so much!

Hello hello! ^^ Thank you for this question!

The Twst novels are fascinating, and seem to be accomplishing a multitude of things at once: we get insight into things that are barely hinted at in the game, like the scorn Riddle suffers post-overblot, the respect he holds for Leona and how he wants to learn from Malleus.

・Riddle and the consequences of overblot ・Riddle's confession ・Riddle on Malleus

We also get complete changes to things established in the game, such as the retconning of our introductions to Leona, Vil and Azul. ・Meeting Leona ・Meeting Pomefiore (pt1)) ・Meeting Azul (pt1)

And, most interesting of all, we get a lot more detail into things that also might be happening in the game, but we were just not told about it due to the limitations of the visual novel medium:

・Yuuya's First Class The prefect is not exactly welcomed by the students of NRC, with no one but Ace and Deuce willing to acknowledge them. ・Yuuya Fails After being supported by Ace, the prefect fails to support him in return ・The Classroom Tensions between Savanaclaw and Diasomnia students ・Riddle and Unique Magics Information on how unique magics manifest. ・The Overblot Battle Ruggie and Jack work together to defeat Leona ・Post-Overblot Leona (the flashback monologue) Leona's fear of giving up. ・Trusting Riddle Ace and Deuce's relationship to Riddle.

Due to how some things are being completely changed I think it is safer to consider the novels as a different canon unto themselves, but they are also a great frame of reference to apply to the game!

→ What language is being spoken in Twst? It is never specified in the game, but we know the language at novel-NRC is not Japanese!

→ What is the roommate situation at NRC? While we have a few hints in the game, the novel has explicitly explained the rooming situations!

→ How many students are there at NRC? Again we have a few hints here and there in the game, but the novel has given us a solid number :>

While things like the above three points might not apply to the game at all they are a useful reference for fanfic purposes, for example, until such a time that they are confirmed or denied by game canon.

And there might be times when the novels are even making corrections to in-game oversights 👀

In Book 1, for example, Ace is unable to repeat Chenya's full name after hearing it for the first time.

The problem: Ace is well known for being talented at mimicry, imitating tongue-click sounds he learns from Rook on his first try in order to communicate with hedgehogs.

The solution: Both the novel and the manga corrected this scene by having Deuce, not Ace, be the one who struggles to repeat Chenya's name.

Did they realize at some point that Ace not being able to mimic Chenya goes against an important character point, which they then corrected in the other two mediums? 👀

As the novels are coming out after the game, this could mean that there is a possibility that they are actually more accurate to the characters in some ways, as the creators have had a chance to review previously established points and make adjustments accordingly ^^

(The author for the novels, Hioki Jun, is both one of the original writers of the game's events and vignettes along with Yana, and a member of Yana's personal studio, D-6th!)

While maybe not canon to each other, both the novels and the game are most enjoyable, and I highly recommend them both!

English-language translation of the first novel coming out this August! 🥳

#twstask #twisted wonderland

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diejager · 11 months

Text

König

Reminder : My blog contains dark/yandere content and have 18+ fanfics, so MDNI with NSFW fics. I also do fluff and angst. All my works are fiction : I don’t own any of the characters I write for; there might be triggering subjects - please see the warnings before reading. None of the gifs or visuals I use in my fics are mine.

Your consumption of media is your responsibility and yours alone.

Nav | CoD

[dark, fluff, yandere, nsfw(*), angst, request]

Saccharine and Monstrosity(*) | d,y

Pairing: Dark!Cthulhu König x fem!reader

He found something worth much more than gold and silver, and madness and corruption. He found a pretty little mermaid to brighten up his cold, dark home and care for. To love something he was created to hunt and kill; to care for something he watched from afar; to hold something so fragile between his many, many arms. It’s sinful pleasure, a blasphemous reunion, but he doesn’t care. He wants you, so he’ll have you.

Stepdad!könig & dbf!horangi* | collection - d,r

Your mother marries again and he doesn’t come alone.

Pervy!Roommate!König* | collection - d,r

You like your new roommate, he’s really nice.

Doll AU(*) | d,r

Pairing: dark!Krueger + König x doll!reader

You were once made of porcelain and wax, a precious doll to pamper and care. Now, you are made of skin and bone, a fragile doll to fuck and keep.

Gentle Giant | f

You know König as a different person.

Childhood Friend | f,d,y,r

You know him as well as he knows you - or so you thought.

Helping Hand* | f

Pairing: König x fem!reader x Horangi

Horangi’s stretching you out for König.

Failed Escape* | d,y,r

In moments of fear-inducing adrenaline and hope, you’re driven to escape your captor, but all of your efforts are thwarted in the end and he isn’t as forgiving as he says he is.

Come Back | r,d

Just when you found someone who understood you, who knew and felt your pain, he found you.

Taste* | r,d

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!König x fem!reader

He's an old and rich man wanting to spoil and pamper his sweet baby.

Doctor's Appointment* | r

Pairing: Gynecologist!König x innocent!reader

You've been having a few issues and you're just so fortunate that Dr. König's a generous man.

I Know Best* | r,d

Pairing: stepbro!könig x stepsister!reader

Your brother knows best, he always does. So why don't you forget about that boy and listen to him.

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sinisterexaggerator · 3 months

Text

Hard Feelings

Hancock x Fem! Sole Survivor / Reader Insert

(AO3)

Summary: You are the General of the Minutemen. Hancock is your companion when out on missions. It's all fun and games until there are hard feelings at play, the ghoul thinking that one day you just might leave him.

Warnings: NSFW / 18+ for PiV sex, public sex (sort of), MAKEUP sex, switching, praise kink, heavy petting and kissing, fingering, biting, angst, a small domestic dispute, and negative thoughts and feelings associated with oneself (Hancock). In this fic, Hancock displays golden retriever boyfriend energy, and he is more submissive. He also experiences low self-worth, and feelings of inadequacy, which leads to doubt. At some point, he has a panic attack.

Notes: Another fanfic that is completely self-indulgent. I was inspired when I took Hancock to the Starlight Drive-In for the Minutemen mission. We were briefly separated when I (sole) climbed onto the roof of the movie screen. Hancock ran around down below in a panic, thus this idea blossomed; I mention it in this post. I stole Teeth's nickname for Hancock: Hanni. ;D )

Word count: 4.7k+

A gentle peal of thunder rocked the night, just hours from daybreak, the eerie green glow of your pre-war Pip-boy casting its luminescence across the present object of your interest: a sullied movie poster. It was curling at its edges, the faded face of a starlet frozen in time with her mouth agape having snatched your attention, for better or worse, as this potential settlement had yet to be explored—there was no telling what lurked out there among the shadows.

Rita Jean Scarlett was staring into the eyes of not man, but insect, The Barfly calling out to you from a bygone era. It was an Old World tale of weird science gone wrong, filled with hubris and lessons learned all too late. Not too far off from the reality of things, you mused, though meant as fiction, actor Chip Weathers having adorned the costume of the “ghastly” monster for his starring role.

The creature had bulbous eyes and sticky clawed feet, yet wore a suit and hat. Once considered the stuff of nightmares, now things like this seemed to you like child’s play. You regularly joined in the company of ghouls; robots; synthetic humans, and even super mutants. You faced adversaries on the daily that would make prey animals of yesteryear look like teddy bears—an unnerving thought, but it caused you to smile regardless.

“What are you grinnin’ about?” a curious voice asked, the creak of worn red leather signaling his closeness; two thin arms encircled you, pitted hands smoothing over skintight, extruded rubber, shiny as the ghoul’s black eyes.

“Just about how things that used to be science fiction are now science fact,” you offered vaguely, casting a glance downward to the sight of yourself being molested, Hancock groping your tit—like any typical man—before it maneuvered lower, gliding over your belly to dip between your thighs.

“Hancock!” you breathed, your pulse quickening, loins already beginning to throb as blemished fingers stroked the line of your vault suit, teasing you at its seam.

“Hmm?” he hummed, ignoring the tone in which he had been addressed. He asked another question, even as he continued to fondle you sans mercy.

“Things like me?”

Hancock was unhurried, enjoying the sleek texture of the glossy fabric against the underside of his thumb. He was positive he was making you wet, wondering how long you might last before you were begging him to fuck you, just like a few hours previous.

However, his query caught you off guard, your mind preoccupied as your palm came to rest over John’s explorative hand, holding it firm, the ghoul taking liberty with your breasts again, cupping one’s shape to give it a squeeze.

“Things that shouldn’t exist? Like that monster up there who thinks he’s human,” he growled silkily, finely wrinkled digits pinching your pebbled nipple through that damnable suit that left nothing to the imagination, John’s prick hardening against the back of your leg.

“You might say that,” you replied without thinking, thoughts clouded with pleasure that would all too suddenly end, so careless was your answer that the ghoul recoiled.

“Really,” John flatly returned, as if for some reason not at all surprised, his warm, gentle touch leaving you longing, confused as to why he was beginning to walk away.

You turned from the ticket booth, staring after your lover as he kicked a loose rock across asphalt; it bounced, ricocheting off an overturned cigarette machine. Hancock pretended to be engrossed in the diner just up ahead, a part of the Starlight Drive-In theater, you both having been warned about raiders before traveling here.

“Hancock.” You followed closely behind; he did not pay you any mind, as if he had not heard you, acting about as mature as a spoiled child who was giving you the dreaded silent treatment.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you claimed, though it was the truth. To be asked that question to begin with seemed like he was fishing for flattery, but who were you to deny the charismatic Mayor of Goodneighbor a harmless stroke to his ego, especially when he meant so much to you.

“Is that where the “might” part comes in?” he snapped, his tone irritated; it was becoming obvious that he had not expected you to agree with him on such matters, the conversation quickly devolving.

“Is this our first fight? Are we fighting?” you asked, Hancock’s beady eyes narrowing beneath his hairless brow at the flippant way you were brushing off his feelings, or so he thought.

“Look, if you don’t want to travel with a ghoul, why didn’t you just say so— got better things I could be doing,” he groused, namely chems with his name on them.

“Is that so? Well, far be it from me to stop you from doing those better things,” you returned, not understanding why he couldn’t just forgive you for something said in passing.

“Always a smart ass,” he complained, as if Hancock himself wasn’t guilty of using his fair share of sarcasm.

Had you not been so heated, you may have remembered just how self-conscious the sociable, charming mayor actually was. His confidence was partially a façade, though he wasn’t one to normally bring down a mood with his own insecurities. Being the introspective sort meant that Hancock wasn’t afraid to get to the heart of things, even at the cost of his own self-esteem.

John had even allowed you in, being vulnerable by sharing details of his sorrowful past; it was no secret the ending had been bittersweet, if not unhappy. His own appearance had sickened him; he found it hard to believe a gal like you wanted anything to do with him, much less desire to share a bed together, especially since he wasn’t exactly a looker by human standards.

Perhaps you had failed to give him reassurance when it was needed, though temporarily blinded by your temper. Instead of trying to clear things up, you made it worse.

“You’d be one to know,” you baited.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Hancock shot back, droplets of rain beginning to descend toward the ground.

“You know what? Go over there, check that place out.” You gruffly dismissed him, pointing toward the diner. “I think we both need some time to cool off,” you added, voice sounding less than amicable toward the man whose forehead lurched, as if he had been punched in the gut.

“Yeah? Fine.” John’s feelings were hurt more by this simple demand than anything you had said thus far, Hancock behaving like a scolded puppy whose owner had treated it unfairly.

You shook your head as you watched him march away, Hancock’s red frock coat glistening thanks to a now steady sprinkle. You sighed, turning toward a slew of rusting, run-down autos, spying a shed somewhere in the distance—you hoped it had a crafting station, as your orders from Preston Garvey were clear.

---

No raiders were present, only mole rats and radroaches. Hancock had kept his distance at your request, though you weren’t so oblivious that you failed to notice the way he routinely hovered only a stone’s throw away. The ghoul was caught basking in your shadow more than once, stealing glimpses, a frown pulling down the edges of his thin-lipped mouth. Yet he would move along the moment you laid your eyes on him, as if embarrassed, not wishing to be the victim of your ire.

Overall, he seemed to be taking things about as well as you had hoped, though he had technically been the one to start it. You weren’t a mind reader, either, refusing to try and decipher his body language despite the moping, waiting for a time you felt more at ease.

Although, it undeniably tugged at your heartstrings—knowing he was suffering in some capacity—but you kept a clear head, focusing on the task at hand—building a radio relay tower from spare parts in order to reach out to others, reclaiming the theater in the name of the Minutemen with the sole purpose of making the Commonwealth a better place, one settlement at a time.

It was when another accursed mole rat burst forth from its earthy den that you yelped in surprise, drawing your double-action revolver almost a moment too late. With teeth nipping at your toes, you shot the beast, Hancock having dashed to your aid.

You glanced back at him, rattled; he seemed satisfied knowing you weren’t hurt, though his gaze lingered, as if there was something on the tip of his tongue.

After a moment, he asked, “Can we talk?”

“Not right now.” You shook yourself off, taking a deep breath to assist in the slowing of your pulse. You returned to your workstation, deciding it wasn’t appropriate to address any more personal issues at this juncture—you both had a job to do.

“Sure, got it,” Hancock said grouchily, the ghoul wandering off to continue sifting through various piles of refuse for any usable materials to add to your haul, though inside it felt as if gnarled fingers were cinching tightly around his heart. Anxiety was welling within him, as not being on good terms with you did not sit right; beneath the surface, he was a troubled bundle of nerves, though he did not want to rush you by any means.

If only you knew about the disturbing thoughts that were crawling up John’s brainpan, slithering through the cracks to possess his mental faculties, feeding them fear; unsurety, outwardly expressed by way of a sour attitude. So involved was he with the many voices collecting in his head, that he failed to notice when you had finished installing the relay tower, your instincts guiding you to the Starlight Drive-in’s once magnificent three-story screen.

You took the stairs, moving past a shoddy door to climb to the top. The sun was newly risen, a fine mist hanging over the expansive parking lot, rays of light from your planet’s star casting a beautiful glow along remnants of grass, present in patches, though the area was plagued by the contamination of rads—another item on your to-do list.

You were enjoying the view when you observed Hancock poking around the last place he’d seen you, determining you were in a better mood and willing to talk. You had planned to call out to him when you saw him run the other way, circling the diner, and then the first place you had gathered—the ticket booth where you had exchanged unpleasantries.

Confused, you continued your study of his erratic behavior, wondering if there was some unknown enemy skulking about, yet Hancock had no weapon drawn, his gait all at once frantic and without rhyme or reason, the ghoul seeming to have no particular destination in mind.

“Hancock?” you asked yourself quietly, baffled at how John was going insofar as to peek inside doorless cars, or even under them, kicking into a full-fledge run as he made his way toward your perch. He wasn’t paying heed to anything that wasn’t at ground-level, failing to notice you up high above.

“Han—” you were enthralled, the ghoul almost as fast as a feral, which was a less than comforting thought, watching as John ran a lap around the base of the screen.

You followed, pushing off the railing to walk the few short steps to the opposite side, catching him turn the corner as he looped back around. It wasn’t until you heard his panicked breathing and the terrified whisper of your name that you completely understood, gut clenching as Hancock came to a disconcerting stop.

The poor thing looked to be having a meltdown, head darting to the left and right, though the only thing visible to you was the top of his tricorn hat. He began to pace, first one direction, and then another, not keeping to east or west, but zigzagging as if he couldn’t decide where to go, or what to do.

He called your name again, this time louder, sounding more distressed. You could not tear your eyes away as Hancock fell to his knees, fingers digging into soft dirt as the ghoul appeared to be in the throes of a panic attack.

Was he—

Spurred to action, you turned toward the way you came in, quick to rush down the stairs as swiftly as your legs could carry you. You sprinted around the bend of the building, nearly bumping into an abandoned cooking station off to your right, skirting it in the nick of time; you passed behind the structure, witness to a heartbreaking sight.

“Hey,” you whispered, Hancock having pushed himself back against the wall, knees to chest. The ghoul was tightly hugging his own legs, his marred face buried in the folds of his coat.

You weren’t sure what was happening, or why, only that he seemed deeply upset he could not find you, not expecting your brief absence would have such a negative effect. The ghoul was mumbling words you could not discern as you tiptoed forward, bending down to his level to address his huddled form.

“Hanni?” you asked gently, calling him by a pet name you had given him so long ago, John’s head shooting up, onyx eyes glistening, though you dare not think he had shed tears on your behalf.

Hancock gazed at you, his expression a mix of sadness, incredulity, and stark relief. You placed a hand on his shoulder, concern marking your features, John not budging from his half-fetal position.

“I thought—" he began, voice cracking, words quavering with an emotion you could not quite define, “—I thought you’d skipped out on me,” he offered pathetically, the amount of hurt present in his eyes enough to make you feel as if you deserved to die. So devastating was the look plastered across his handsome, ghoulish face that you wanted to cry, moving to cup his ruined cheek in the crux of your palm.

“Why would I do that?” you asked, tone soft but firm, staring at your reflection within gorgeous, dark depths, as if the answer lay hidden somewhere deep inside them.

“Because I don’t deserve you; because you can do better than me,” he answered without hesitation, “because who would want to be stuck with this ugly mug; wouldn’t wish it on my own worst enemy,” he finished flatly, Hancock’s dispirited disposition arising from being rejected—that’s not to say he blamed you.

“Didn’t wanna talk, ignoring me, couldn’t find you—just figured you were through,” he continued, tone solemn, making you feel awful.

You had deeply sinned to make this man react in such a manner—that was your first thought, Hancock’s gloomy mood permeating your defenses. All the walls you had in place came tumbling down, feeling nearly sick to your stomach as you scooched forward, prompting Hancock to drop his knees, legs finding even ground.

“No,” you berated, “none of that is true.” You shifted, straddling the ghoul, your other hand joining its partner to cradle his jaw opposite. “I won’t leave you,” you pledged, placing a kiss atop his furrowed mouth. “The thought never even crossed my mind.”

Hancock searched your face; he expelled a dejected sigh, breathing out through the hollow cavity that once housed his human nose. “You—you’re the best thing I’ve got. I don’t want to lose you, sunshine. I’d be dead in a ditch somewhere if it weren’t for you, hopped up on chems,” he admitted, hanging his head. “But don’t think I would blame you for hittin’ the road. I’d manage, somehow. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to make do, so just say the word. Don’t feel obligated to stick around.”

“Is that what you think? That I would abandon you? That I would get sick of you? That I don’t want you here by my side? Hancock—” you emphasized, running your thumb over the curve of his ear, forcing him to look squarely at you with a gentle redirection, “—I mean it when I say I love you,” you lamented, kissing his raised flesh. “Please, don’t doubt me.”

John lifted his head with your help, the concave divot residing front and center brushing lightly across your cheek. He presented you with a kiss this time, his cock enlivening beneath you, unable to help his arousal at the admission of your heartfelt words.

“I won’t, not anymore,” he promised, another kiss administered, and then another, returning each touch of his lips with one of your own until they picked up in fervor, Hancock’s sly tongue subtly snaking its way between your teeth.

“That’s what I like to hear,” you cooed, warm, wet muscles intertwining in an orchestrated dance that rekindled the deep-seated ache of your loins.

“You listen so well,” you needled playfully; you had the ghoul’s number, knowing just what made him tick.

Hancock moaned a sound of gratitude, your impromptu praise causing his prick to flex, lean, wilted fingers creeping forward to place themselves deliberately along your thighs; they ran up the dips in your hips, and smoothed over the shape of your waist.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Hancock grated between avid swirls. His cock was riding up against your slinky blue vault suit—like liquid latex poured to conform to your body, it fit tight as a glove.

John held no complaints, only that you were still wearing it. Fortunately, you had ideas.

“Being such a good boy for me,” you teased, your own hands roving, exploring the contours of his slender chest and waist, sweeping back and forth; you hooked his partially corroded throat, carefully capturing Hancock between the crook of your palm, thumb trailing his Adam’s apple in a light caress.

“Not sure you know what that does to me,” he purred, the ghoul at your mercy as you gyrated your hips, your own sex succinctly aligned as you massaged his erection through faded black slacks.

“Are you so sure?” you asked, grinning into your kiss, one of Hancock’s hands sneaking along synthetic fibers for three fingers to stroke the underside of your jumper. He pushed up only slightly, cupping your mound; you felt it in your core, a subdued moan breathed straight into the ghoul’s mouth—Hancock was so turned on, it was a wonder he didn’t just nut right then and there.

“You teasin’ me, sunshine?” John panted, groping your breast, digits fingering stitchwork; you bit down on your bottom lip as you reached for the clasp at the front of your collar.

“Get this off me,” you instructed, fumbling with the pull of your zipper.

“Is that a request?” Hancock asked cheekily, though he did not expect an answer.

“An order,” you responded, feigning authority, Hancock doing as he was told, though there was a hint of a smile crawling up the side of his face.

“Yes, ma’am,” the ghoul chortled wryly, watching as you shed your suit like a second skin. You ushered it past the arc of your shoulders, the slopes of your breasts, to the base of your hips, leaving yourself half naked and assailable; John was unable to help his amorous stare.

“You’re so beautiful,” he declared, moving to knead doughy flesh, mouth finding your throat; Hancock sucked the sweat off your flawless skin, his other hand working its way underneath what was left of your vault suit, two fingers dipping into your already soaked cunt.

“Fuck,” he hissed, slipping in and out, thumb pushing itself between the folds of your labia to rub your throbbing bud.

“Yes, let’s,” you returned, swirling your hips, riding Hancock’s thick fingers as you clumsily moved to untie the flag wrapped about his narrow waist.

“Right here?” he asked, perplexed. Though not one to argue, being out in the open without cover was dangerous; he knew better than anyone the risks of the Wastes.

“I want you,” you answered, as if that in and of itself was all he needed to hear. You knew there might be consequences, but at that moment, your hormones were the ones in charge, a sharp gasp escaping as John’s fingers curled against the anterior wall of your sex.

“I’m all yours, love, forever,” Hancock vowed, following your example. He hastily unbuckled his pants after releasing your tit with reluctance, pushing apart the flaps to withdraw his glaring hard on; precum was already seeping out the slit at its head.

“Promise me,” you insisted, lifting up off your thighs—and Hancock’s fingers—to shimmy the rest of your suit down toward your knees. It might be a little awkward, but you were too desperate to care, taking up the ghoul’s girth in the breadth of your palm.

“Cross my heart and hope to—”

“Don’t you dare,” you protested, shoving your tongue back into John’s mouth, guiding his cock inside you. You sank down onto your haunches, inch by delicious inch, his variegated shaft filling you full up.

Then, the ghoul went rigid. “But sunshine, what about—”

“Shhh, that’s it,” you whispered, though Hancock hadn’t done anything to warrant a reprimand. It was your own descent that had you crooning, dipping forward to feel that delightful pressure snug against your walls.

“Not sure you wanna end up like—”

“—I took one a few hours ago, remember?” The darling man was more concerned with your well-being than even you; you could physically feel the tension leaving his body, John relieved to know you had things under control.

“You do love me,” you stated breezily, flicking the tip of your tongue inside the helix of the ghoul’s ear; Hancock shuddered, both his hands returning to your hips, touch featherlight, prompting you to press your palms against the partition behind him to prop yourself up on either side of his head.

“Wouldn’t mind you turnin’ Ghoul,” he replied throatily, thinkin’ spending an eternity with you sounded like the best damn thing a guy could ask for.

Hancock watched with bated breath as you rose up to enshroud him in your shadow, breasts level with his eyes. He groaned his appreciation, seizing your right nipple between puckered lips, John’s bony hips pushing up against the round of your ass. The ghoul sucked diligently, dull nails clawing gingerly into supple, human flesh, incapable of keeping a straight face.

“What was all that about not doubting each other?” John huskily reminded you, the point of his tongue flitting against your sensitive skin. He returned to suckling, as if a babe latched to nurse, the hand left idle finally slipping down your thigh. Hancock spread your lower lips apart with the underside of two fingers, a third taking its place atop your thrumming clit, engorged with blood.

“Shut up,” you urged, wanting him to belay speaking for fear the moment might spoil, Hancock grunting in indignation before he bit down lightly on your nip.

You gasped a broken breath, cunt rising to the head of his cock. You dropped back down; Hancock bottomed out, sequestered in the deepest part of you, snug as anything, the ghoul hypnotized by your pretty writhing.

“Why don’t you make me.” Hancock intensified the patient revolutions of blotched fingers, dragging you down by compressing your cheeks with his thumb and index; you slumped your shoulders just enough, angling to meet his current height, tossing your arms about John’s neck to humor him with another passionate kiss.

“Done.” You rocked forward, feeling Hancock’s sizeable member immured to its base. Indecent sounds kept each other company, the squish of your conjoined loins combining with the wet, obscene spirals of your whorling tongues. It wouldn’t take much longer to climax, your slick cunt tightening its grip on John’s rock-hard cock.

The ghoul’s chest heaved between ragged breaths, Hancock practicing his self-control. He didn’t want to cum until you did, sliding his palm up to carefully cradle the small protrusion distending your lower abdomen.

Feeling the outline of himself inside you was nearly too much to handle, a visible tremor preceding what was to be an early warning.

“I-I can’t hold back, angel.”

“Wait,” you countered, guiding the ghoul’s head toward your breasts, driving his noseless face into your cleavage; Hancock’s tricorn shifted backward as he followed your lead. He vested himself in the cocoon of your limbs, moaning his approval, grabbing onto a fistful of ass as your back arched in pleasure.

You opened your eyes to gaze at the sky—it was pale blue and cloudless, for once.

You came hard, the flat of John’s palm supporting your spine as you released your ecstasy to the heavens, the ghoul’s tepid seed discharging in spurts to paint your inner walls white; his ejaculate had been offered as payment for your lovely little song.

The ghoul felt overwhelmed and full of deep affection for you; Hancock’s teeth bore down on beautiful, unblemished skin; he broke capillaries, drawing your blood to the surface, leaving his mark in the form of a dark red welt.

You gasped at the bite, Hancock ensconcing you tightly in his arms, both of you allowing your orgasms to run their course. His grip was a comfortable vise, brittle nails burrowing into lithe flesh with almost paradoxical tenderness; John was always so careful with you.

From an outsider’s perspective, the embrace of a ghoul meant certain death, with the expectancy you would be rent into unrecognizable pieces. Such a pose as you presented now was questionable, one that evoked alarm from bystanders, settlers who had followed the beacon to their new home, expecting to find the general of the Minutemen, but not like this.

“Ghoul!” someone shouted; you heard the shuffling of leather, the clink of metal.

“No!” you yelled, protecting your lover with the entirety of your body, encapsulating his slight frame. You shielded his vitals with your bare back, hunkering down to speak to these newcomers over the peak of your shoulder.

“He’s not feral!” you growled, hating that you had to defend him, knowing how John must feel at this moment as he gazed up at you with surprised, wide eyes. You cared not that a horde of people had seen you naked; you only cared for Hancock, determined to preserve him and all his parts.

In reality, the ghoul was seconds from tears, knowing—without a doubt—that you had meant what you said. You were guarding his wretched life with your own without question, willing to die to keep him from harm, just as he gladly would have sacrificed himself to see you live another day.

A day, he thought, that might have been better off without him, but now he was glad to be alive (in some form or another), swallowing hard against the knot in his throat, eyes never once leaving your impassioned face.

“We’re together; we came here together, and we will leave here together, do I make myself clear?”

A person stepped forward, separating themselves from the crowd. “Yes, General,” they said, having fortunately, or rather unfortunately, recognized you.

With a sigh of relief, those gathered departed. John practically smothered you, so forceful was his hug that it nearly choked the air from your lungs.

Hancock didn’t know what he’d done to get someone like you, and he was afraid to ask. If there were any powers at be—something, or someone—watching over him, he supposed he’d owe them one, but for now he was more than happy to count his blessings. And the sad thing was, everything, all of it, could be a dream—or one long, hallucinatory chem-trip. If this turned out to be nothing but a fucked up Jet flashback, he’d just as soon never wake up.

“I’ll follow you to the end of the Wastes,” Hancock blurted, voice strained and rasping, fingers; arms; chest tightening as he spoke against soft tufts of hair. “You and me together, the world ain’t got a prayer.”

Despite what had just transpired, you cradled him against the bow of your neck, oblivious to the inner workings of his mind, only wishing to absorb him, for him to live in the space between your ribs that stored your heart. All you wanted was to keep him safe for all time, knowing that he deserved the world, though the ghoul would most certainly outlive you.

It was a melancholy thought, if ever one existed, but you did not allow your mind to dwell. “Sweet man,” you murmured, “it doesn’t stand a chance in hell.”

—-

Fallout Masterlist

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baronessvonglitter · 4 months

Text

Baby Daddy

best friend's husband!Dave York x married and fertile! f!Reader

Word count: 1.5K

Summary: you and your husband have been trying for a baby, with no success. Then his good friend Dave offers assistance.

(AKA you're on some hormones that make you super horny and Dave pretty much takes advantage of that)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, slight D/S tones, forced pregnancy (though reader is already trying for a baby), infidelity (Dave and reader), slight sex pollen, reader is late 30s/early 40s but feel free to use your imagination, unprotected piv sex, pregnancy kink, creampie, use of hormones to get pregnant, some talk of infertility

Author's Note: I wrote this for those of us of a certain age who are not often represented in fanfics but as stated above please do use your imagination, there's no gatekeeping here ❤️ Naturally I wrote this while I was ovulating and suuupppeerr feral. I don't want to have any more kids but if Dave was insistent upon it I might just let him 🫢

DAVE YORK MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You and your husband's Saturday nights are usually spent with Carol and Dave, your friend from high school and your husband's friend from work, respectively. Mostly you have dinner at your house or theirs, followed with wine and a movie after. Tonight's not any different, except Carol looks at you funny when you politely refuse a glass of pinot grigio.

"Might as well tell them, honey," you husband Jim is all smiles as he addresses the table. "We're trying for a baby," he announces proudly.

You smile but it's masking your discomposure. "Honey I thought we were going to wait until I'm actually pregnant to tell everyone," you say under your breath.

Carol's face is illuminated with joy as she reaches over the dinner table to grab your hand. "That is such wonderful news! Isn't that such good news, babe?" she asks Dave.

Dave eyes both you and your husband, and there’s a mysterious little smile that curves across his lips. “That is great news.”

Jim continues, “She’s on trial pharmaceutical hormones right now, so hopefully it’ll work for us and we’ll be parents soon,” he says excitedly. You manage to be more reserved about it, though your heart rate does speed up when you notice Dave’s eyes on you longer than usual.

After dinner you offer to help tidy up while Jim and Carol start the movie. Really it’s just an excuse to be by yourself for a moment, but then Dave joins you, pouring himself a glass of scotch.

“Are you excited about trying for a baby?” he asks so casually.

In the years you’ve known him, he’s never spoken to you about personal things very often. “Yeah, I am,” you smile at him from the sink.

“How long have you and Jim been.. trying?”

It’s possible this is a normal question coming from a curious friend, but there’s always been something about Dave that gives off the impression that he’s anything but.

“Almost a year,” you answer.

“That’s a long time. Do you try pretty frequently?”

You make a sound of surprise, turning to fully face him. “That’s inappropriate.”

He puts his hands up. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He approaches you slowly. “I just meant it must be frustrating, putting in all that hard, fun work only to have your hopes dashed when you see blood the very next month.”

You’re rooted to the spot, knowing you should turn to leave and join the others, but it’s also intriguing, the way he speaks to you. “The new hormones are going to be a tremendous help,” you manage to say.

“Hmm. I bet you’re feeling all kinds of new things with these hormones.. even earlier at dinner I could tell.. you’ve got this unmistakable scent coming off you.. you’re probably ripe for someone to put a baby in you right now.” He towers over you, eyes roving your body in its feminine floral dress before his hands follow suit, gently tracing the outline of your curves. “You’d look so hot pregnant.. your hips getting wider, breasts getting bigger.. and it all starts with this.,” his hand sneaks under your skirt, skims along your inner thigh and finds your heat, evident through your cotton panties. “If your husband isn’t doing the job, why don’t I step in?”

“Dave,” you whisper, “Carol’s my best friend. I can’t..” but it feels too good and damn it he’s right: the hormones have given your libido a big boost. You take his hand and guide his fingers into your slick center. You both gasp quietly as he starts to stroke you with two fingers, then three when he sees you can take it. His lips trace delicately over your neck, just above your pulse point. Jesus, if his fingers fill you up this good, just imagine what he can do with that cock. “Fuck me,” you whisper.

“Are you sure?” His eyes are dark but there’s a kind of mirth there.

“Shut up Dave, just take me home.”

After making your excuse to Carol and Jim that you’re feeling unwell, Dave “offers” to walk you home, which is how you end up across the street, upstairs in the room you share with your husband. He’s relentless as he kisses you with soft mouth and playful tongue. You fumble together towards the bed, working in tandem to get each other's clothes off as quickly as possible. There's urgency in everything you do, even your breathing is heavy and erratic. Your dress goes over your head; you pull off his shirt and unbuckle his belt. Layers are pulled away until skin meets skin and at last he pulls your panties off, smirking to find them absolutely soaked. You lean over the bed, looking over your shoulder at him.

"Is this how Jim usually likes it?" Dave asks, running his hand admiringly over the curve of your ass.

You blush at the sudden random evaluation of your married sex life. "Well.. yes.."

Dave shakes his head, a little smile forming on his lips as he turns you around and lays you across the bed. "I want to see the look on your face when you cum." With that, he slides into you, relishing your expression as he fills you completely. Your legs wrap around his hips and your arms wrap around his neck, all while your bodies move in perfect harmony. "He doesn't fuck you very often, does he?" Dave whispers in your ear, sending tingles down your spine. "I can tell, the way your pussy is gripping me so tight, like you haven't been fucked in weeks.."

You start a smart comeback but it's impossible to think when he's moving against you like he's fucked you hundreds of times before. Jesus, no wonder Carol's always happy. Her husband's well-endowed and knows how to use it.

The sounds of your combined moans becomes rhythmic, Dave's body strong and powerful yet gentle with you. The bedsprings creak beneath your weight, skin smacks on skin, hands grab everywhere they can, lips meet heated flesh, words of lust become sighs and half-uttered phrases. When you come you clench around him, fingernails digging into his skin as a great wave of pleasure and relief flows through you and you cry out. Dave's eyes are on you, barely registering the slight pain of your nails in his back, feeling how you milk him with your greedy little pussy, and his body tenses against yours, his movements become faster and faster as he fucks you during your orgasm. You barely have time to come down before he starts you up again. You moan "Yes!" over and over, hips meeting every one of his frenzied thrusts. Dave looks smug and self-righteous watching you come for the second time. It's not until you feel him swell and pulse inside you that you panic. "Dave, don't!..." but it's too late. You feel several warm bursts when he presses deep against you. To your shock your body reacts eagerly, milking his cock for every drop he has to give. All this happens with your gaze locked on one another's, and as you pale with the realization of what you've just done, Dave only smirks and pushes forward one more time.

You gasp. "Dave, you weren't supposed to-"

"Quiet now. Lay still and keep your hips elevated. Wouldn't want all my hard work to go to waste." He disengages from you, taking a moment to watch his seed spilling out of you and he gently presses it back in. "Not a drop," he says, and gets up to get dressed.

Still in shock, you do as he says, body still reeling from the aftermath of the intense fucking he's just given you. "Don't.. don't tell Jim about this. Or Carol." A massive wave of guilt washes over you knowing you've been unfaithful to your husband and to your oldest, best friend.

"I won't say a word," Dave promises. "I have no doubt Carol would hate you forever and Jim.. well, Jim would be heartbroken. He's not exactly a fighter," he smirks. "And I'll tell you something else." He sits next to you on the bed, admiring the messy state of your hair, your flushed skin. "Jim's a good guy and a good friend. He deserves better than a wife who betrays him like this."

Anger replaces your trepidation and you push him away. "You're an asshole. Get out!"

He looks amused by all this, rather than shamed or defeated as a normal person would. "I'll be seeing you around, sweetheart. We're friends with each other's spouses. It's inevitable." He leans towards you and brushes his thumb against your cheek. "If this time doesn't take - which I doubt it won't - I'm happy to help out again."

Twelve weeks later Jim makes the happy announcement that you're expecting, after having tried for so long you've finally received a miracle. You manage to look contented and cheerful as your friends and family gather to celebrate the amazing news. Carol dotes over you, making sure you don't strain yourself for the baby's sake. You meet eyes with Dave, who's across the room watching you, a brazen little smirk on his face. He lifts his brow as if to ask the question you know he wants to ask, and all you can do is give a little nod.

divider by @enchanthings 👑

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