#before I can even blink or process what’s going on you’re behind me and tying me up

[rosicheeks]

For the christmas present based off your posts. I think you'd like a super long personalised voice note or a lot of art supplies or maybe say you have a present waiting for you in a forest somewhere but when we get there it's just us and theres no phyical present but instead what happens between us is the present 😇😇😉😉

🥺🫣🥰

[matchavellichor]

I don't know if you're still taking requests, but if you are, I have this request that would make for some good angst C: Fem MC proclaiming that she'll only date a man who can best her in a duel. And Ominis ends up winning, shocking everyone including MC but she's happy about it. Up to you if smut follows after <3

A/N: I loved this idea, ty for the request! I didn't really make it angsty sorrryyy :c but I hope I compensated with the dominis smut at the end and that you enjoy nonetheless <3

How to Win the Girl

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC - NSFW - Friends to Lovers - 4.9k words - ao3

Part 2

Tags: Pining, Unrequited Love, Jealous Ominis, Dominis, Rough Sex, Classroom Sex

Summary: After hearing her proclaim that she'll only date someone who can beat her in a duel, Ominis grows determined to win her affections by any means necessary.

“I’m a simple man. I’ll snog anything with a decent enough behind.” Sebastian proclaimed matter-of-factly.

She didn’t know how this became the topic of discussion over breakfast at the Great Hall, but she indulged him nonetheless. Ominis seemed completely uninterested in the subject matter, engrossed in a Potions textbook he was currently tracing over diligently with his wand in a last bid attempt to pass the final practical exam.

She cast him a sidelong glance as she cut into her eggs. “I’ll make sure to tell Poppy to keep her mooncalves away from you.” 

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Okay, anything decent and human.” He paused for a moment, contemplating, before he amended. “Actually, no, I did have a little tango with a Centaur some blue moon ago…”

She blinked at him. “You genuinely concern me, you know that?”

“She was cute!” He scoffed defensively. “Excuuuse me for embracing diversity. Pray tell, what are your shining standards, hm?”

She paused for a moment, considering, before she shrugged and took a swig of her pumpkin juice. “He has to beat me in a duel.”

She didn’t notice the way Ominis immediately perked up beside her, unburying his nose from the pages of his book and narrowing his attention on the conversation he had been only half-listening to.

Sebastian snorted. “Ha! Good one. You’ll die alone at that rate. Better start collecting kneazles to keep you company.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just because you’re incompetent with a wand, doesn’t mean every man is, Sebastian.”

“Hey! Incompetent is harsh. I prefer the term mildly handicapped.” He protested. “And just a duel? Like one time?”

“Yup. One duel.”

Sebastian rose resolutely from his seat, slipping from the bench hastily and nearly knocking over several goblets in the process.

“Where on earth are you going?”

“I have to go practice. If I knew a roundabout with the Hero of Hogwarts was on the line I would’ve tried much harder at Crossed Wands.” He gave her a wink.

She grimaced and called out to him as he quickly made his way down the rows of tables towards the exit. “You are excluded from the list of contending bachelors, Sebastian!”

“Square is fair!” He called back and she bit back a laugh at his butchering of the Muggle saying.

Beside her, Ominis looked very much enthralled in the textbook he was only pretending to read, his thoughts instead drifting to other matters. He had spent far too long hopelessly pining for her to not consider the opportunity he was just presented with.

It was no unknown fact that she was notoriously hard to get, and that reality had only served to make him want her even more. It was utter torture.

He was so unused to not getting what he wanted, and the stubborn little witch sitting beside him just so happened to be what he wanted most.

He rose from his seat with much more patience than Sebastian did, though arguably fueled by an even greater determination to finally win her affections.

“Where are you going? I thought we were going to study for Potions together.” She frowned as she watched him slip past her down the Great Hall.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

He made his way to the exit and rushed to the Undercroft in Sebastian’s footsteps, his magic thrumming in his veins with a vibrant, newfound energy.

//

Sebastian crashed into a groaning heap on the stone floor of the Undercroft after the leviosa Ominis had casted wore off after a few seconds.

“Fuck’s sake, Ominis,” he sat up, rubbing his throbbing head. “I thought you said you’d go easy.”

“That was easy.” Ominis crossed his arms, thrumming his fingers impatiently on his forearm as he waited for Sebastian to collect himself and get up again.

He admittedly had been a bit harsher than usual, using this “practice” as an excuse to take out his displeasure and poorly-concealed jealousy in Sebastian trying to win her affections in a duel himself. The mere thought of him anywhere near her had his magic coursing through his wand with an added bite and ferocity that usually wasn’t there.

Sebastian shook the woozy feeling from behind his eyes as he positioned himself in an offensive stance again. The first hex had barely slipped off his tongue before Ominis had a protego up and was veering a counteroffensive stinging jinx towards him.

No matter how fast he cast, the blonde always seemed to be one step ahead, moving lithely around the stone pillars in the Undercroft while Sebastian lept and rolled out of the way of his spells.

It didn’t take long for Sebastian to inevitably cry forfeit, after a barreling confringo missed his head by a few centimeters, singing the tips of his brown locks.

Ominis made his way over and outstretched a hand to help his friend off the ground. The brunette instead took this as an opportunity to tug him to the floor along with him.

He rolled his eyes. “Very mature, Sebastian.”

“Maturity is one of my many attractive qualities, you should know this by now, Ominis.”

“Yes, right there alongside your dueling abilities.” He jeered. “So…where do these duels take place, anyways?”

//

Ominis warily dodged the sounds of hexes and charms as he made his way through the dueling club towards Lucan Brattleby. Approaching the Gryffindor, he placed the few galleons for the entrance fee on the counter in front of him. 

“I’d like to duel, please.”

Lucan eyed him up and down with poorly-concealed disbelief. “You’d like to duel?” 

Ominis’ jaw set. “Did I stutter?” He nodded his head towards where he had heard her engrossed in a duel with a trio of upper-years when he walked in. “And I’d like to duel her.”

Lucan laughed as if the blonde had told a terrific joke, and then when he noticed Ominis had remained completely stoic and unamused, quieted. “Oh, you’re serious?” 

Ominis’ fists tensed at his sides. He was used to being underestimated due to his condition, but it didn’t make the blatant disrespect any less infuriating. “Are you going to let me fight or not?”

“Well, we have a hierarchy here, mate.” Lucan scoffed. “You can’t just walk in and duel someone. Especially not someone her level. You start at the bottom rank and win your way up.”

Ominis was mentally restraining himself from engaging in his own duel with the annoying little prat in front of him when Sebastian made his way over and clapped a hand over the blonde’s shoulders with a grin.

“Come to watch me fight, old pal?” 

Ominis turned and raised an eyebrow and Sebastian winced. “Er…poor choice of words, sorry.”

“I’ve come to participate, actually.” 

Sebastian raised his brows. “Against me? You haven’t battered me to your satisfaction already?” 

“No, not against you, although I’ll admit I’ll never be satisfied with any level of battering I’m allowed to inflict on you.” He nodded his head towards where she was still battling on the mats. “Against her.”

Sebastian’s brows reached his hairline now. “Ominis Gaunt, you little minx.” He butted the blonde’s shoulder playfully. “Trying to conquer her for yourself, eh? How come this is the first I’m hearing about this?”

Ominis rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so crass, Sebastian. I don’t want to conquer her, how antiquated.” He muttered admonishingly. “I want to prove myself to her. But, someone here won’t let me.” He narrowed his eyes at Lucan who had been listening curiously to their conversation. 

Lucan steepled his fingers over his chin contemplatively. “Hold on. You said Ominis Gaunt, right? As in…heir-of-Slytherin, dark-magic, rich-up-the-wazoo, Gaunt?” 

Ominis’s mouth set into a line at his family’s notoriety before giving a reluctant nod.

“I’ll tell you what. Pay triple the entrance fee and I’ll let you jump ahead and get your ass kicked by your little girlfriend.”

Ominis fished out the hefty sum of galleons from his pocket and slammed it on the counter, not pleased, but certainly in no position of loss by the demand. He’d be willing to pay a hundred times the amount if it meant a chance at winning her hand. 

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Lucan greedily pocketed the money before handing the blonde his entrance slip, indicating his place for the duel. “Also, hope you’re aware that no Unforgivables are allow—”

Ominis scowled before yanking the ticket from his hand. “Sod off.”

He cut past the crowd of onlookers and found his place in line by the mats where she was dueling, that same ardent determination making his magic hum in his core as he listened to her cast spell after spell. 

He couldn’t deny he felt a bit nervous about actually being in a battle with her. He had thrown around Sebastian in the Undercroft enough times, but never had he faced an opponent as formidable as her. Every incantation rolled off her tongue with a practiced amount of ease, short and concise, and he didn’t have to see her to know she was barely breaking a sweat as she fought off three foes on her own. 

He would have to be creative if he were going to come out victorious.

When the match was declared a definitive win for her, she made her way off the dueling mats and broke into a smile when she caught sight of Ominis on the outskirts of the crowd.

“Ominis! What’re you doing here?”

He held up his queue slip. “Whatever one normally does at a dueling club.”

The corner of her mouth quirked in subtle amusement. “I’ll be eager to see your skills in the arena.”

“You’ll see them, alright.” He smirked. “We’re up next.”

She was certainly surprised by this revelation, but to his satisfaction, made no doubtful comments about his sparring abilities. Instead, she stretched her shoulders and promptly got back onto the dueling mat, beckoning for him to follow.

“Come on, then. I’ll make this quick for you.”

//

She in fact did not make this quick for him.

She was soon greatly impressed by the realization that Ominis was actually an incredibly talented duelist. 

Sharp and agile, every swish of his wand calculated and precise. She was half-convinced his lack of sight actually led him to have even quicker reflexes than her average opponent, deflecting every single one of her spells with ease. 

Her pleasant curiosity quickly turned into begrudging frustration, though, when they’d been throwing hexes back and forth with no considerable gain made on either of their parts.

Never one to accept a draw, she cast the next spell with a little bit of extra ferocity, determined to at least knock the blonde off his feet and pull this duel that had stretched on for far too long now closer to its end. 

Unfortunately, she underestimated her own strength, and had caught Ominis in an unfortunate blind-spot —pun unintended— flinging him backwards across the arena. He landed with a sickening thud on the floor after colliding with one of the arched pillars in the room.

She winced as she knew that must’ve hurt. Badly. 

Which is why to her concern, and increasing horror, Ominis hadn’t let out even a single whimper of pain. Instead, lying completely motionless and cold, sprawled out on the flagstone floor. 

Her stomach sank.

Immediately, she ran over to him, her wand slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor as she fought the nauseating dread inside of her at the thought of having seriously hurt him.

Sinking to her knees before him, she immediately took his face in her hands, scouring over him for any signs of serious injuries. 

She had only briefly noticed the slightest quirk of his lips, before she was flipped over onto her back with his wand pressed under her chin, his hips bracketing hers to the floor as he held her down with his weight.

Several emotions passed through her at once. First, the terrified dread dissipated from her system, quickly replaced by molten-hot anger at being so cruelly tricked, which then morphed into something almost akin to admiration for someone actually having gotten the best of her for once.

Strangest of all though, was the budding feeling of something else pulling just below her navel, as she realized just how close they were in this position. His hips pressed flush against hers, his breath ghosting her lips almost imperceptibly. Her entire body warmed.

Ominis held the most self-satisfied smirk she’d ever seen hovering above her, levels of smugness to rival even that of Sebastian’s, as he kept his wand pressed firmly under her chin with one hand and her wrists pinned tightly to the ground in his other.

Finally, she mustered the ability to speak, though her voice regrettably came out a lot more unsteady than intended with the feel of his body on hers making her thoughts hazy. 

“Get—get off me!”

Ominis tsked, shaking his head. “Make me.” He tilted his head and his lips curled at the corners, infuriatingly sly. “Use your wand, go on.”

She struggled against his hand futilely, but quickly realized that even if she was strong enough to free her wrists, she had recklessly abandoned her wand about ten feet away on the floor in her panic. She whined in frustration. 

“Forfeit?”

“No!” She protested, her pride getting the better of her. Though she quickly realized that wandless and pinned underneath a wizard nearly twice her size, she had little leeway in turning around the outcome of this duel.

He raised an eyebrow expectantly as he waited patiently for the little gears in her head to turn and click and realize that she had actually lost.

She had never lost a duel before. 

She expected to feel devastated. To have suffered an agonizing blow to her ego, to feel mortified, something. But instead she could feel nothing but mesmerization as she stared up at Ominis above her, features cool and nonplussed.

He had won. Square is fair.

Finally, she relented and muttered through gritted teeth, “Fine. I lost. Now get off me.”

He grinned as he finally slipped off her, her cheeks proceeding to heat even more at the brief brush of the front of his trousers against hers. As she sat up from the floor, she noticed with even greater embarrassment that the entire club had stopped what they were doing to gawk at them. 

She wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

Quickly picking up her wand from where it had been discarded on the floor, she cleared her throat and with as much practiced sportsmanship as she could muster, directed a tight, “Good game.” towards Ominis before promptly departing from the hall. 

It wasn’t long before she heard the tell-tale sounds of footsteps tailing her down the corridor. She glanced back to see Ominis jogging to catch up. 

“Where are you going?”

She sighed. “Ominis, if you plan on rubbing it in my face how much of a better duelist you are, I’m really not in the mood.”

“What? I’m by no means better. Honestly, I don’t even come anywhere close.” He settled into pace beside her, his tone sympathetic and understanding. “I just had…stronger motivations.”

She looked up at him curiously and reluctantly decided to indulge him. She crossed her arms and stilled in her tracks, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. “Stronger motivations?”

He nodded. “That’s what it’s really all about, isn’t it?” He stepped closer to her as he continued, “It doesn’t really matter how powerful you are, only what you’re willing to do to win. Willpower supersedes strength by brute force.”

“How ambitious, spoken like a true Slytherin.” She teased with an eye roll. “Tell me, then, what strong motivations are behind Ominis Gaunt’s willpower?”

His lips curled into something almost predatory, and she had never seen him look the way he did now in the dim light of the secluded hallway. Usually so soft-spoken and unimposing, Ominis looked as if he had just won some grand prize she was unaware of. He crowded her against a woven tapestry adorning the wall and her breath caught in her throat.

A sticky-hot warmth seeped through her as she found herself once again pinned under the compelling presence of the blonde in front of her. Her eyes instinctively flitted to his lips, and for some reason she expected him to kiss her then. 

For some reason she wanted him to. 

Instead, he pulled away, slipping his hand into hers and interlacing their fingers. 

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

She found she could do little more but mindlessly obey at the moment. 

//

Ominis couldn’t wipe the smile from his face as he pulled her along down long corridors, leading her to the secluded stretch of empty classrooms in the northern wing of the castle. 

He had never witnessed the hard-headed little witch so incredibly flustered before. It was a terribly addicting feeling. 

And although he usually prided himself on being so decorous and patient, he couldn’t help but throw all caution to the wind as he strode hastily down the halls in an urgent bid to finally get her alone.

His heart thrummed in his chest at the very thought. 

Clicking open the door to an empty classroom with a wordless alohomora, he dragged her inside and pushed her against the door immediately, body pressed flushed to hers.

He half-expected her to hex his bollocks off at his imprudence, but when she did little more than let out a soft squeak of surprise, he leaned into her even further.

“Where’s your wand?”

His lips were so close, she could barely even think straight.

“In — In my pocket.” 

He smiled in satisfaction at the dazedness in her voice, her breath coming out in short little pants against his lips. He slipped his arm down to feel for her pocket and she gasped when she felt his hand grope at her thigh.

“Good,” He murmured when he felt the familiar wood poking through the pocket of her skirt. “If you’d like me to stop, use it. We both know you have no trouble defending yourself.”

Before she could ask stop what, his lips were capturing hers in a suffocating kiss, her words dying on a gasp. 

Even if she did possess the current mental capacities to slip a hand into her pocket and fling him off her, she had no idea why she would ever want to. He felt heavenly.

He groaned into her mouth when she sank into the kiss, slipping a hand to hold her jaw, pressing himself further against her to keep her pinned and still just where he wanted her.

She had never felt so utterly listless and weak. 

Stripped of all reason, a melting puddle of warm sensations as his tongue met hers and explored her mouth in earnest. Her legs had gone limp the moment he had pressed his lips to hers, and she was more than grateful for the way his hips were currently supporting her against the door.

The kiss was far from anything she would’ve expected from the ever-composed and austere Ominis Gaunt. It was messy and lewd, too starved for any sense of decorum, leaving her spit-sticky and aching until she could barely even recall her own name. 

“Fuck,” He whispered, breathless, as he came up for a brief moment of air. He was seemingly just as wrecked as she was, his voice hoarse. “I’ve wanted to taste this pretty little mouth for so, so—”

The whimper she let out as she instinctively pressed her lips back against his was nothing short of pathetic, but Ominis seemed to have adored it if the twitch she felt against her hips was any indicator.

The way he rutted softly against her as he took her lips in kiss after bruising kiss made her head dizzy. Seemingly brought to his limit, he pulled her away from the door in favor of pinning her against one of the empty desks instead, slotting himself in between her legs. 

She gasped when she felt him then, throbbing and strained against his trousers. 

He huffed an amused breath of a laugh. “Feel that?” He nosed at her jaw, inhaling the intoxicating scent of lavender that made him throb even more in his pants. “That’s what you do to me.” 

Her head fell back when his tongue connected with the soft, sensitive skin of her neck, licking a greedy stripe down her throat as if he wanted to sink his teeth into her. 

He felt like a man starved. He was so tired of being patient, of hopelessly longing for her from a distance.

Actually having her there, in his hands, soft and pliable and mewling his name as he peppered her skin in kisses, licks, and love bites, was enough to almost make him lose all sense of self-restraint.

Hell, it was almost enough to make him finish in his trousers he quickly noticed as he drew his hips back with a hiss. He flipped her onto her stomach on the wooden surface before he got ahead of himself.

She gasped from his assertiveness, at just how out of control he seemed, usually so reserved and cautious. That flicker of desire inside of her roared into tumultuous, consuming flames. 

He slipped a hand into her pocket and grabbed her wand, placing it on the desk right above her head in eyesight. 

“What did I say?”

She panted, thoughts hazy, but tried to construct some semblance of a coherent sentence anyway. “If I — I want you to stop, use it.”

“Mhm,” He hummed in approval before pressing a kiss to her temple. “Good girl.”

She preened at the praise, arching back into him, feeling him pressed stiffly against her arse, thick and so incredibly stiff through the fabric of his trousers.

She wanted to burn all her pride and beg him to fuck her, touch her, anything to satiate the unbearable yearning inside.

“Needy little witch,” He grunted as he felt her rub herself back against him. He brought a hand to her hips to still her. “Be patient, hm? I’ve been patient for you, haven’t I?” 

She nodded, forehead falling to lay against the desk as she let his hands explore her, groping the soft flesh in his strong fingers. He leaned over her, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. 

“So fucking patient.” He murmured as he ran his hands down her sides in admiration. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited? How many times I’ve come into my own hand thinking of you bent over for me just like this?” He nipped at her ear, scraping a biting kiss down her jaw until she whined from the sting. His cock ached in his trousers with every little noise she made. 

Unable to bear it any longer, he fisted her skirt in his hands and tugged the fabric over her hips in a single, succinct motion. Her breath hitched in her throat but she made no move for her wand, sitting idly by where her hand was palm down on the surface of the table.

“Gorgeous,” He breathed against her skin, tugging her blouse down one shoulder so his lips could find contact with the sensitive patch of skin there. “So perfect for me.”

His fingers trailed up her thighs and quickly found their way between her legs, rubbing soft, slow swirls over her knickers. The way he had been talking to her, touching her almost reverently, had already left an embarrassingly sticky mess between her thighs.

Ominis groaned as soon as he felt it seeping through the sheer fabric. “I need to be inside of you.” 

He hooked a finger into the hem of her knickers and tugged it down her legs, helping her step out of it before tucking it into his pocket. He pressed against her again and she squirmed from the feeling of the bulk of him against her bare cunt. 

“Look at you. Making such a mess on my trousers.” He ground his hips into her even more as he felt her wetness sully the fabric.

She keened. “Please, Ominis…”

“Please what?” She heard the metal clink of his belt as he began to divest himself behind her and she clenched around nothing in anticipation. 

She tucked her face into her hands, desire sending blood to her cheeks as she finally reduced herself to begging. “Please, please, please fuck me,”

His forehead fell to her shoulder at the sound of her pleading, his grip turning vice-like on her hip. She felt him then, the blunt tip of his cock pressed right against her entrance. 

“This is what you want?”

She nodded fervently, her head fallen lax against the table. He tangled his fingers into her hair and tugged her up until her back was pressed to his chest not letting her hide from him.

“Say it.” He gritted through clenched teeth. “Tell me this is what you want.”

“Please, please, oh Gods, I— I want this, I want this so—”

Her words died on a strangled gasp as he sheathed himself completely inside of her. Her legs went limp, and she would’ve fallen forward if he didn’t snake a hand around her waist to keep her flush to him, her head falling back against his shoulder.

“Always knew you’d have the tightest little cunt.” He pressed a kiss against her warm cheek, his breathing heavy against her skin as he hummed in approval at the feeling of her squeezing him. “Alright? Hurts?”

She shook her head, grinding her hips back against his in a show of just how good it felt. 

He huffed a laugh at her eagerness before easing his own hips back and bringing them back to meet hers again. This time, he let her fall forward onto the desk, her nails digging into the wood as she moaned from the intrusion. He felt so big inside of her, stretching her out so deliciously until she felt full to the brim. 

Her hip bones bit into the desk as his thrusts slowly became more forceful, jolting her and pressing into that sensitive little spot on her walls that made her toes curl. When her wand clattered to the floor following a particularly hard thrust, her lips parted in awe at the wandless bit of magic he used to bring it to his hand and back into her eyesight.

She had never been more attracted to the wizard currently fucking her senseless.

She couldn’t contain the sounds spilling from her mouth as he fucked into the desk, pathetic and utterly depraved noises that seemed to only spur him on even more. His pace grew punishing, pulling similarly debased noises from the back of his throat as he slid in and out of her. 

“Kiss me. Gods, fucking kiss me.” He groaned, taking her jaw in hand and tilting her chin back so he could capture her lips. She moaned into his mouth and he responded in kind, nipping at her bottom lip until she squeaked. He’d never get enough of these noises.

“Perfect. Fucking. Witch.” He grunted, and his voice was low and rough, a wrecked, gravelly mess as he continued to rut harshly inside of her. “Mine now, aren’t you? All mine. Fuck.”

She nodded fervently, feeling inclined to agree to just about anything coming from his mouth when he was pushing her so close to release, building up that aching knot behind her navel and winding it tighter and tighter.

He could feel her walls fluttering around him, feel just how close to the edge she was. Reaching a hand in front of them to rub tight little circles between her legs, he pressed his lips to her ear. 

“That’s it, you’re so close, aren’t you,? I can feel you tightening around me. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” 

The combined feeling of his hand between her thighs, him thrusting so perfectly inside of her, and the filthy things he was whispering in her ears, was enough to push her over the edge.

She came with a sharp cry, her entire body trembling while he continued to fuck her through her climax, falling over the edge along with her. She felt a warmth coat her insides as he pumped inside of her, his face tucked into her neck while he murmured incoherent praises into her skin.

He kissed all over any exposed patch of skin he could find as he tried to regain some semblance of composure, his chest heaving. He mouthed softly at her jaw as he finally pulled out, and she winced at the slight soreness from the abrasion. His brows knit together. 

“Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, giggling at his sudden concern. “I’m okay.”

He looked unconvinced as he collected her in his arms. “Do you promise?” 

She smiled and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m fine, I promise. Probably won’t be able to walk properly for a few days, but…”

He chuckled. “Well, that won’t do, I have a date planned for us. Will I have to carry you through the castle in my arms? A bit of a forward way to announce our relationship, but I’ll oblige I suppose…”

He made to wrap her legs around his waist and she bat at his arms. “Awfully presumptuous of you to assume we’re in a relationship already, Ominis.” She raised an eyebrow.

He returned the inquisitive look. “I’ve met your terms, haven’t I?”

She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking her head against his chest. She couldn’t help the warm, fuzzy feeling she felt deep in her stomach, possibly a side-effect of all the post-orgasm endorphins making her head buzz. Nonetheless, she felt inclined to peck his cheek and concede with a smile.

“Yes. I suppose you have.” 

[baeshijima]

— in these quiet nights

whenever you're stuck in solitude, ayato somehow manages to find a way to be by your side without fail.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 900+ wc, fluff, established relationship

A/N : its 1 am, currently using this as an escape from my project, and writing a very late ayato piece for his bday ;w; life stop making me have no time for my fictional men pls and ty <//3

There’s a solemn chill hanging overhead. The air stills, the stars dull, and the moonlight glimmers.

It’s not often you find a moment of peace, what with your busy schedule interfering time and time again, though you could argue it’s more solitary than it is tranquil. Perhaps this escapade would have been better suited in the early hours of dawn as opposed to the steadily approaching midnight you’re currently stuck in.

A whisper of a sigh slips through your lips. Pulling the thin blanket closer around your shoulders, you lift your gaze upwards, paying half a mind to the feather-light footsteps approaching from behind. You have no reason to turn to be able to identify the new presence, for who else would be mad enough to be up this late after the busy day which transpired?

“A fine evening, is it not?” comes that oh-so familiar intonation, the footsteps coming to a halt behind your seated form. Strands of baby blue obstruct your view of the bleak stars, a pair of lavender eyes twinkling with fond mischief follow in pursuit. Despite his towering form shielding you from the pale lighting, his face glows all the same — a testament to the sheer elegance instilled within. His gaze drifts down your shadowed form, a light hum trailing close behind. “Are you cold?”

You blink at his question. It takes a few seconds for you to realise the main focus of his concern; the blanket tugged over your shoulders. “How can I be when there’s no wind?”

As soon as the question is uttered, you immediately sense a foreboding shiver trickle down your spine. Maybe it’s the hairs along the back of your neck rising, or it could be the puffs of air Ayato is relentlessly blowing towards your dumbfounded figure.

“Do you feel the wind now?” he has the gall to ask. Unsurprisingly, the impish grin splayed across his lips becomes increasingly more tempting to slap off the longer he persists. Unfortunately, your hands are occupied, making it near impossible to move them. 

(Archons forbid you actually exert unneeded energy when you’re already spent.)

“Yes,” you deadpan, “I’m so cold my teeth are chattering. Can you hear it?”

He hums in faux contemplation, a gloved hand raised to rest under his chin in an attempt to further support his charade. “Not quite. Perhaps I ought to bring out the fan.”

“Please don’t. My teeth will really chatter then.”

Your shoulders relax upon hearing his gleeful laugh. In a fluid motion he steps away from you, exposing you to the stark moonlight, before plopping himself on the veranda beside you. Before you have the time to process the string of movements, your left arm is promptly lifted up (with the blanket following suit) as a bundle of warmth dives into the newly opened space, your arm tugged down and around the intruder of your personal space.

Well, at least he’s warm.

“If you’re tired then go to bed.” As soon as the words are uttered, a displeased whine escapes him. Much to your bemusement, a ticklish sensation occurs at the crook of your neck, and you belatedly realise the act akin to nuzzling currently being performed by the bane of your existence, his arms wrapping around your torso in protest. Like a child.

“Why should I?” he mutters into your skin, tone bitter and laced with indignance someone of his standing should most definitely not have. Well, you can’t say you’re not used to it.

“Because you need proper sleep.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll get sick again if you keep this up.”

“...”

“...”

“But why?”

Archons have mercy on your poor soul.

“I’d rather not be known as your personal pillow,” you state monotonously, positively done with his antics. “I have some dignity left in me.”

“And if I were to say you’re warmer than my bed and comfier than my pillow?”

(You’re not. You can attest to that fact as someone who has actually slept in his bed — which is unfairly warm and comfortable, if you may add.)

Gaze narrowing at the smug expression beaming up at you, you merely retort, “Do you want me to drag you to bed myself?”

“If it’s you then I would happily obli— mmrph.” Swiftly, your palms smother his words before he has the chance to finish. And no, you will not be swayed by the doe eyes batting up at you, nor by the fluttering of his long eyelashes brushing along the apples of his cheeks.

What an unfairly pretty lover you have in your palms. Literally.

Seeing how he’s more than happy with the skin contact being made, you take it upon yourself to swiftly remove your hands and return your gaze to the night’s canvas, his theatrical bemoans of your “cold shoulder” and “[Name] doesn’t love me anymore” going ignored.

It stays quiet between you for a while, the only sounds being the faint breaths and rhythmic heartbeats steadily falling in sync. Oddly enough, you find yourself forgetting the previous solitude you were trapped in only moments prior, focusing instead on Ayato’s fingers entwined with yours and basking in his familiarity.

Your shoulder dips slightly when a weight drops atop it. When you glance down to identify the source of permeating warmth, you can’t help the smile alighting your features.

“Thank you for loving me as much as I love you, Ayato,” you murmur against the crown of his head as you place a chaste kiss, before pulling the thin blanket around the two of you in an effort to cage your shared warmth.

(How strange, you silently muse to yourself, suddenly finding yourself overcome with drowsiness. The air feels warmer now.)

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[kentosovertime]

✨cop!nanami x f!reader drabble - 1k words✨

CW: handcuffs, restraints, praise kink, public sex, car sex, unprotected sex, pet names, pwop

Banner Credit: @/______in______ on twitter

✨Kinktober Masterlist | Masterlist✨

“You have the right to remain silent.” The blonde cop with the stern expression bends you over the hood of his cruiser, gently pushing into the metal as he grabs your right wrist, pinning it to your back. ���Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

You whimper when you feel the cold bite of the handcuffs click against your skin, tying your hands behind your lower back and struggling against his firm grasp.

How did it come to this? A night out drinking, turned into being left to walk home by yourself, your friend passing you the keys to your shared apartment as she runs off with an attractive older man.

“You have the right to a lawyer-” The man continues, but is cut off by your slightly slurred speech.

“F-for what? What c-charge?” You wretch around to look up at him, pushing your ass back into him for leverage, trying to see his badge and name tag. “... Officer Nanami… sir?”

You see him gulp audibly, glancing down at where the two of you are joined, pausing before he continues.

“I-If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed to you…” Nanami continues to read you your rights, you can almost hear how he’s forcing the words from his mouth. You zone him out with a frustrated sigh, your forehead connecting with the body of the vehicle as you skirm about, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp.

You feel your shoulders shake, warmth spreading through them as Officer Nanami grips them firmly, pulling you up by your restrained limbs to gain your confirmation. “Do you understand the rights I’ve just read to you?”

You blink up at him, giving up trying to free yourself from his grip. “Yes, sir.” you whimper, batting your eyelashes at him. Maybe there was a way out of this…

“‘Atta girl.” he mumbles under his breath, motioning to the backseat as you feel your cunt clench at even the slightest amount of praise. “Go on… get in the back.”

“But what are you charging me with?” you ask coyly, arching your back to push your back into him further, feeling the tent in his pants. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of… agreement.”

A groan escapes his throat as he looks left and right, taking in the abandoned street before looking down at your restrained form, your ass encased perfectly in your jeans before leaning down to speak into your ear.

“Then be a good girl for me…” you shiver as you feel his tongue dart out the side of your neck. “And kneel on the backseat, ass up.”

His large hands support your back, pushing you into the door he pulls open. Struggling, you ungracefully slide across the back seat, having to lean on your neck to get into the position he requested.

“Like this, Officer?” You bite your lip looking back at him climbing through the open door as he drops his utility belt on the floor next to the seat.

Your body jolts with the slamming of the car door, the sound rings out between the two of you. He promptly unzips himself, palming his erection as he takes in your submissive position.

“You’re doing perfect, sweetheart.” His fingers move to trace up your hips, hooking themselves into the loops of your pants before ripping down their form.

A gasp leaves your mouth as you feel the cold night air hit you. A moan quickly follows as you process a surprisingly gentle hand palm at your cheeks, spreading you wide for his view.

“Pussy’s so pretty.” You shiver as his fingertips graze your lips before sinking into your quickly dampening center, finding your clit with practiced ease. Every word out of his mouth is more encouraging than the last, making your face blush and your center white hot.

Nanami wastes little time, knowing someone could come out and approach the car at any moment.

“You suck these in so good, baby.” Nanami curls his fingers in you, scissoring you out to take his wide girth. “Now be a good little girl and take my cock with your tight fucking cunt.”

The loss of his finger leaves with an empty feeling, making you ready to beg for additional contact if needed. Your request lodges it’s way in your throat, cut off by the scream of pleasure that exits instead when Nanami swiftly sinks into your spasming walls.

“s’close, officer- p-please!” The knot in you snaps almost immediately. You shake so violently, his hand comes down to use the handcuffs as an anchor, the other presses your face deeper into the leather.

Nanami fucks you straight through your orgasm. Pulling you into him to meet him by your restraints to meet him stroke for stroke. He never pauses to give your poor cunt a break as he obsesses over keeping his rhythm, enamored with the slapping sound echoing through the vehicle.

“Fuck, baby… you feel so fucking good.” Through the haze in your fucked out brain you feel him getting sloppier, grunting over you as he chases his high. “You’re amazing, gonna fill this pussy up til’ it bursts.”

Drool flows freely from you as you feel him flood you with his cum, pressing his hips deeply into you with a final thrust.

You're still trembling, eyes still crossing from the warmth of his seed seeping from where you’re joined. His length is unable to hold it all in, making it drip readily onto the leather seats below you.

Then you hear the cursed clicking noise of the cuffs again. Groaning with anticipation, you clench, forcing out more of spend from deep inside you, baby expecting the piercing pain for the metal cutting deeper into your wrist.

“You’re free to go, miss.”

“And if I want to s-stay?” You slur, but from a different intoxication, overloaded with joy as you see a small smirk grace his serious demeanor. “W-with you that is…”

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @severelytalentless @yelzoldyck @silversslut @aazaard @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @vantastic210

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine being Azula’s friend but secretly dating Zuko behind her back

One of the first things you and Azula bonded over was your annoying brothers. Azula told you how her brother had stolen one of her best friends away from her and you related to that. Your twin brother was none other than Sokka of the water tribe, who was also very popular with women. Most of the women you knew liked him, from Yue to Toph to Suki to Ty lee! It sometimes felt like you were the second attraction in a friendship and so you and Azula quickly became close over your shared frustrations.

Then....you betrayed her.

Well, betrayal is a bit dramatic but maybe not given how upset she'd been when Mai and Zuko started dating. You knew that had been hard for Azula to process.  How difficult it had been wondering if her friends really liked her or just wanted access to her brother. So when you started liking Zuko you didn’t plan on acting on it at all. Then Mai broke up with him. 

Zuko was around at yours quite often, whenever he visited the water tribe he stayed in your home and when you visited the fire nation he extended the same hospitality. So throughout the years, you just naturally got closer and closer until....it happened. You started hanging out just the two of you and these occasions felt very date-like until Zuko just outright asked you out. You liked him and told yourself one date was fine, what harm could a single date do? But then as you kept seeing each other and one date soon progressed into many many more you knew your time to do the right thing and tell Azula you were dating her brother was approaching. 

However the idea of doing that idea terrified you. You guessed Azula wouldn’t take it well and didn’t want to lose your friendship with her because of your relationship with Zuko. You wouldn’t break up with Zuko just to make her happy but you also didn’t want to lose Azula’s friendship, so when Katara’s birthday arose you were fairly nervous. There was going to be a large party and all of Katara’s friends were coming...which included Zuko and Azula. You hadn’t been together with everyone since you and Zuko started dating so you had no idea how it would feel. The whole time you and Zuko would have to convincingly act like you weren’t a couple and not make anyone at the party suspicious of the two of you. So when Zuko’s ship got in you fixed your eyes on Azula and tried not to stare at him any more than usual. You greeted him formally and didn’t admire him as you usually would. You fell in step with Azula and decided just to focus on her. It wasn’t hard, you were best friends and very close...however fate was not on your side. You got seated across from him at dinner which felt like some sick punishment and struggled not to get lulled into conversation with him. It didn’t help that Zuko was in a playful mood. He kept making comments about the things you’d done on your date and then sending you sly looks across the table. When you met his eye he smirked blatantly and you lightly kicked him under the table. That only made Zuko chuckled and look adorable so you sighed and decided to just keep your eyes down the whole time to survive dinner. 

However, Zuko had no intention of stopping his teasing. After dinner you set about preparing the party for Katara tomorrow and having sent Sokka, Aang, Suki, Azula and Toph on their assigned jobs turned to your job of decorating. You were hanging streamers in the living room when you felt a hand curl around your waist. “Need some help there?” Zuko asked moving closer and he leaned up over you to hang it. “I could have done that myself” you smiled turning to face him and Zuko shrugged “I know you could’ve, but then I wouldn’t have been able to do this”. Zuko gently kissed your neck trailing down to your collar bone making you sigh. “Zuko...stop” you said faint heartedly and Zuko sensed that smirking "I don’t want to and you don’t want me to either, I can tell by how softly you said my name" he smiled "it’s been so long since we’ve had any time together". Your skin erupted in goosebumps and a shiver went down your spine as Zuko pressed closer against you. But you knew how badly this could end if literally anyone walked in. So swiftly you grabbed Zuko’s hands and twisted your way out of them. You held them tightly in one hand so he couldn’t try and slink around you again and used the other to make him look at you "Zuko we can’t okay, not on this trip. God knows i want to, i’ve missed you too but there’s too much that could go wrong i’m sorry". Zuko sighed but nodded his head "don’t worry i understand". Zuko’s shoulders sagged and you knew your insistance on keeping this quiet was difficult for him. "Thank you for understanding" you said hugging him quickly "i know it can’t be easy for you and I appreciate the effort you're going to for me". Zuko smiled resting his head on top of yours "it’s fine, i’d do a lot more for you if you asked but promise me it won’t always be like this....we will tell everyone soon?". You gulped but nodded pulling away "i promise, i will tell Azula...soon!". Zuko nodded “I believe you” and let his hands drop away from you. Not a moment later Sokka and Aang appeared in the room making the two of you jump. “Zuko just the man we need! We were thinking of making an ice sculpture, fancy some fire bending?”. Zuko nodded “sure” and with a last glance to you left the room. 

Hours later the party preparations finished you returned to your room which you were sharing with Azula for her visit. “Sokka made me blow up balloons” she said angrily “something about fire benders being full of hot air”. You smirked at your brother’s nerve when Azula’s next sentence wiped it off your face.  "Also I think Zuko’s dating someone again" Azula said softly and you paused. "Ow really?" you asked and she nodded "he’s been spending a suspicious amount of time in the southern water tribe lately. Lots of visits which he claims are diplomatic but I can’t work out what he actually does here! He doesn’t know that many people and so it got me thinking, y/n do you think your brother and mine....". "No Sokka's still with Suki" you said shaking your head. Azula sighed “and it’s obviously not Katara, she and Aang are basically married, have you seen him hanging around anyone else? He doesn’t know many people so it should be easy to spot". You paused pretending to think but were really just trying to buy yourself time. "Honestly i don’t pay much attention to him when he visits" you said cleverly covering your back "but i will from now on and let you know". "Thank you y/n" Azula smiled. You smiled back relieved Azula didn’t suspect anything and let out a large breath you’d been holding for this entire conversation. You were now more than ready for sleep and got into bed hurriedly. You laid your head on your pillow and closed your eyes utterly exhausted. 

"Goodnight y/n" Azula called and you nodded. You were very sleepy and after a long yawn smiled "good night Zuko".

You realised the name you’d said seconds after it came out of your mouth. 

You froze

As did azula.

"Did you just call me Zuko...". You blinked "did i? I’m sure i said Azula". Azula was quiet for 2 seconds before she shot up "it’s you!" she cried "you're the one my brother’s dating!". "No Azula that’s crazy!!! We'd just been discussing Zuko, that’s why he was on my mind!". Azula shook her head "you're lying! I can tell by the tone of your voice! You’re the new girlfriend aren’t you?". You sighed "Azula i’m sorry i was going to tell you...". "I can’t believe you" Azula yelled and suddenly the door opened. "What’s wrong?" Sokka and Zuko asked bursting in “we heard yelling” and Azula glared. "You! Couldn't just have Mai huh? Had to take another one of my friends? How about when you’re done with y/n you try things with Ty lee?". "Ow she told you...." Zuko frowned awkwardly. "No i worked it out!” Azula spat “Y/n accidentally uttered your name because she’s so lovesick" Azula cried "you both make me sick" and she strode away slamming the front door hard as she exited the house.

After Azula left you all looked at one another unsure what to do or say next. "So...you two are a thing?" Sokka asked and Zuko paused "yes...is your reaction going to be as bad as Azula’s or can i go deal with her?". Sokka shook his head "go deal with her before she burns the village down”. Zuko went to move past Sokka when your brother put a hand to his chest "but come back and see me after, me and Katara will want to talk to you about dating our sister". Zuko surprisingly looked intimidated and nodded "I'll be right back". "Zuko wait i should come too" you called "this is as much my fault as yours". Zuko nodded "let’s go" and led you outside into the cold night after Azula.

You found Azula trekking in the snow and as she wasn’t in proper shoes you gained on her quickly. “Azula!” you called and she jumped. She looked around and glared “ow look the happy couple, how nice of you to grace me with your presence”. Zuko rolled his eyes “only you’d be so attention-seeking to make this about you”. “Attention seeking? Who’s the person who can’t form his own friendships or respect boundaries? No always have to date my friends, is it some weird way for you to gain power over me? A sad way to boost your ego?”. As Zuko and Azula went to square up to each other you stepped between them. “Alright enough the both of you! Zuko please go back to the house, i’ll handle this”. “But she...”. “Zuko please” you said sharply and he nodded “fine” and with a glare left. You watched him go before turning back to Azula. You’d been about to suggest you go home given that Azula was surely freezing out here in the middle of the night but Azula broke into a rant. "Everyone leaves me for him" she cried "Mai! My uncle! Mother! Even my father...after i was smarter, a better fire bender, more loyal and younger he still gave Zuko every little chance and only crowned me after Zuko literally ran away! When will i be good enough people don’t just choose him without a second thought for me?". "Azula i didn’t choose Zuko over you! Just because i like Zuko doesn’t mean i don’t like you still". "That may be true but this changes our friendship completely, it did with Mai! People always prioritise their partners over their friends so i’ll be second best once again". "Are you kidding?" you asked "Azula now i need you more than ever! Relationships aren’t when you ditch your friends, they’re when you need them the most! Who else are you going to go to for a break or a nice getaway? Who else is going to support and love you in only the platonic way a friend can? Who else can i complain about Zuko to when he annoys me or we fight?" you asked "they’re all things you need your friends for! Desperately and that’s going to be the same for me". "But when Mai dated him...". "But i’m not Mai" you smiled softly "Azula we are good friends, i won’t sideline you because of this. You mean just as much to me now as before i started dating Zuko". Azula huffed but you could see her melting. "So...how about we go inside, get some warm milk and talk a bit more about this huh?". You offered Azula your hand and she took it but she didn’t stop there. Azula threw her arms around you and hugged you tightly. "I’m partly doing this for the cold but thank you" she said softly "nobodies ever tried to make me feel supported when they've chosen Zuko, they just tell me to deal with it but you’re the first to try and reassure me and so i know you mean it, to still be my friend". "Of course" you smiled "you're my best friend!". Azula smiled and linked her arm through yours "i like that!”. 

Zuko stared in awe as you and Azula returned grinning. "How did it go is everything okay?". You nodded "your extremely cool sister is fine with it". "Yes i thought this would be a great way to have an inside scoop on you zuzu". "She’s kidding i won’t talk to her about you...a lot". Zuko blinked "okay if everything's okay then i should go speak to Sokka and Katara, they’re waiting for me in the kitchen". Azula smiled "that’s a good idea, when you come back zuzu find me, i have some threats about what will happen if you hurt my best friend". You smiled at Azula and stepped to Zuko "good luck but don’t worry Sokka’s all bite, Katara’s the one to look out for but she has a big heart, just tell her how good a time we’ve had and you’ll be fine". "Good tips, any for my sister?". You smiled "Azula is one i have not worked out yet" you grinned "but i’m sure you’ll manage, you are the firelord after all". Zuko smirked and you patted his shoulder "after your appointment with my brother and sister and then your sister....you could always come find me in your room?". Zuko smiled "is that my motivation for surviving this?". You shrugged "you can think of it as that" and stepped away from him. Zuko watched you before sighing "alright let’s get this over with” he said loudly and strode towards the kitchen.

You turned back to Azula who raised an eyebrow at Zuko’s sudden confidence and she frowned. "Do i even want to know?" Azula asked and you shook your head "no". “Ow and don’t worry if I’m not in our room tonight”. “Euch Y/n!” Azula cried and you shrugged “what? I didn’t say why”. “I know why” she sighed before she smiled “at least I can have your bigger bed”. “Be my guest” you smiled, you had a firelord to get reacquainted with. 

[artemelle]

Fluffy HC or fic for Marius and his s/o painting together? Maybe one smears paint on X nose and a battle ensues? Ty!

painting with marius <3

when you first bring up the idea of wanting to paint with him, marius eyes’ just immediately light up! he agrees without a single moment of hesitation and is already asking vincent to clear up his schedule as soon as possible. 

he buys you a completely brand new set of brushes + paint + a canvas, despite your multiple protests that you could buy your own...but nope <3 marius wants you to have the absolute best, even if you weren’t exactly as professional as he was when it came to the art form.

marius also gets the two of you matching aprons with your names embroidered on them <3 they’re always hanging near the entrance of his studio, just in case painting becomes a regular thing for you...just drop by his studio any time you want.

speaking of his studio, there is now a designated ‘yn corner’ where he keeps all your tools and artworks. whenever you come around, you’ll always find a post it note stuck on the blank canvas. some notable ones are: “but what if YOU are the art?” + “you’re more breathtaking than any work of art”

anyways, on to actual painting with him hcs...marius stares at you. A LOT. he adores the completely focused look in your eyes, the way your brows knitted together in concentration. every now and then he looks up from his own work, only to find himself completely breathless at the sight of you.

always asking how you’re doing. it’s not that he has no faith in your artistic skills, but he’s secretly hoping that you would ask him for help so the two of you can share a ~moment~

even if you say that you’re doing alright, marius still makes his way to your canvas and shows you “how to properly hold the brush”. really, he just wants to hold your hand. as cocky and as flirty as he is, you honestly can’t miss the pink tint that spread across his cheeks.

sometimes, he likes to have music playing in the background. marius will often use his brush as a makeshift microphone and dramatically sing to you while he’s waiting for certain portions of his artwork to dry. your reactions -- whether it’s rolling your eyes or a laugh escaping your lips -- are the reasons why making a fool of himself is somewhat worth it.

though, if you do ask him for actual constructive criticism, marius is more than willing to give it to you. his voice is always calm when he’s giving his feedback and it always ends with a quick peck to your cheek.

makes sure to frame your artworks, one of them is in the living room in his apartment. marius is always trying to get people to ask about it so he can gush about you.

“hey, yn!”

you turn to face marius as soon as his voice falls on your ears, only to be met with something cool on the tip your nose. your eyes instinctively shut in surprise, opening them to find marius with the largest shit-eating grin playing on his lips. he’s not even attempting to hide it.

“marius! von! hagen!” 

he sheepishly shrugs his shoulders, knowing that the anger that laced your voice was most likely fake. however, as you move closer and closer to him, he fails to notice the paintbrush hidden behind your back.

“to be fair, you look cute with paint all over your face.”

instead of a proper reply, you reach out and paint a streak of pink paint on his cheek. “now, you look cute too.”

marius blinks back at you, processing your actions before moving to run after you, “oh. you’re gonna pay for that.”

“going to have to catch me first!”

needless to say, neither of you finished your paintings that afternoon.

thinking bout following a bob ross painting tutorial with marius <3 pls i feel like it would be so much fun ;-;

—   see if you can request something here  ;  masterlist <3

taglist : @themysticalbeing @xoxovictoriaa @wafflebrian @duhsies @satans-beloved-riv @ultgojo @dreasimping @jisoostan09 @liraajustsimpin @rosa-qing @suga-tofu @roselleviennesstuff @darlingxannie @dazaiaiko @kristyxoxo 

[hqbbg]

still.

pairing: miya osamu x fem!reader

prompt: “I told you to stay still.”

genre: smut

word count: 5.3K (I got carried away, oops)

warnings: 18+, masturbation, some degradation, oral (f!receiving), fingering, some spanking, vaginal & unprotected s3x (make sure you wrap your presents, kids), like 2 seconds of cockwarming, uhm I think that’s it oop

author’s note: I'm back with another Haikyuu!! Headquarters collab piece! check out the master list of everyone else’s works here ✨ I hope y’all enjoy this!

The air in your room feels thick as you pant helplessly, feeling the familiar ache in your fingers as they begin to cramp up while plunging in and out of your sopping cunt. You feel so close to your own undoing, unable to control your thoughts as they drift to the man whose room is on the other side of your bedroom wall. You can’t help but think that it’s his fingers squelching within your warmth, though you’re sure they would reach much further than yours ever could.

You don’t do this often, touching yourself to the thought of your roommate while he’s out at work or running errands, but lately you’ve been frustrated.

When you had put out an ad for a roommate, you were hesitant. You didn’t have much of a choice, as your last roommate decided to move out in favor of moving in with her boyfriend, leaving you to scramble for a solution in order to continue to afford rent. As a full-time student with a part time job, it would’ve been inconvenient to move out in the middle of the semester, and it seemed reasonable to quickly search for a roommate to help with the bills until your lease was up.

Miya Osamu was hot, to say the least, though it wasn’t the main reason why you ended up choosing him to be your new roommate. On top of having manners and being financially stable, he knew how to cook and respected your space in the apartment. Unfortunately, you’ve been unable to say the same recently. The number of times his room door was cracked open as he changed almost made you consider that he was doing it on purpose, as if encouraging you to take a peek.

As you recall the way his back muscles flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head all those times you’d told yourself that you were just walking by, you let another moan slip past your lips. Your fingers begin to move quicker, toes curling, and you can feel your arm beginning to tire out. Your back arches as your other hand quickly moves to massage your neglected clit, rubbing harsh circles until your vision flashes white.

You fail to hear the front door open and close as your moans continue to fill the room. The memory of seeing Osamu stepping out of the bathroom in a simple pair of grey sweatpants with a towel around his neck is still fresh on your mind. You feel yourself clench around your own fingers as you recall your eyes briefly catching sight of the outline of his cock, the image practically ingrained within you. Too many times have you thought about how it would feel inside of you.

Another moan resonates on the walls and you bite your lip, though it does little to stop you from moaning Osamu’s name. Before you know it, you’re overwhelmed by pleasure and your whole body tenses before it relaxes. Your chest heaves as you lay there, trying to recover from your intense orgasm and you want nothing more than to sleep now. You hardly notice that your door is open.

Over the next few days, you can’t help but feel that something is off with Osamu. Though you aren’t particularly close, you’d like to think that you two have developed some sort of friendship with all the shared meals and evenings spent in the living room just chatting about life.

Did he hear you the other night? There was no way; you made sure to give yourself enough time before he was supposed to come home. Then again, you didn’t hear him come in…

Your cheeks begin to burn at the idea that he’d heard you. You let out a groan as you bury your face in your hands, leaning onto your desk. The little motivation you had to study has effectively disappeared and an unsettling mix of nervousness and shame begins to stir in the pit of your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you try to push the dreadful thought out of your head and sit upright. An idea suddenly pops into your head and you abruptly stand up. You walk over to your door and poke your head out, scanning the area to locate your roommate. He’s conveniently in the kitchen, snacking on some leftovers he’d brought back from his restaurant the previous night.

“Hey,” you say awkwardly as you step out. He looks over at you and hums in acknowledgement, his mouth full. You decide to go ahead and speak, though your fingers fidget with the hem of your oversized shirt. “You’re not working tomorrow night, right?”

Osamu shakes his head, swallowing his food. “What’s up?”

“Well,” you hesitate, trying to find a way to come off as casually as you can, “I saw this recipe online for some salmon and vegetables, do you wanna be my guinea pig?”

“Sure,” he nods as he shrugs. “What time?”

“Dinner time,” you say, a little too eagerly. “How about seven?”

His lips quirk upwards into a small smile. “Sounds good to me.”

You watch as he takes another bite of his food before you realize you’re staring, clearing your throat.

“Okay, well, have a good night,” you say and quickly scurry back towards your room. Once you shut the door, you release a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. You swiftly move back to your desk, your forgotten notes pushed even further aside as you begin to look for that recipe you’d seen all those weeks ago.

The following day, you make a quick trip to the store to buy ingredients and find yourself nervously counting down the hours and minutes until it’s a reasonable time to start making dinner. You step out of your room to see Osamu already perched on a stool at the small island in the kitchen. He’s slouched over, scrolling through his phone when you walk up. He glances up and greets you with a small smile as you place your phone down near the center of the island countertop.

“Okay, so before I start, I just need to say that I’m definitely not a professional chef in any way,” you say as you move to wash your hands. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around the kitchen, pulling the vegetables from the fridge. You grab the apron hanging on the pantry door and sling it over your head, tying it behind your back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya wear that,” Osamu muses as he leans his cheek on his palm. His elbows are both propped up on the counter and you resist the urge to playfully roll your eyes.

“I have to make sure my shirt doesn’t get dirty,” you say, “it’s one of my favorites.”

He says nothing in response, opting for a light chuckle as you begin to wash the vegetables. Once you finish, you pull out the cutting board in front of him on the other side of the island, placing a carrot in the middle.

You open a cabinet and pull out a knife, giving it a quick rinse before positioning the blade to cut through the vegetable. Placing your fingers on the edge, you lift the knife just slightly.

“Hey, be sure to cats paw,” Osamu pipes up, pointing to the hand that’s on the carrot, “If yer not careful, you’ll knick yourself.”

“Huh?” You blink your eyes at him, trying to prevent yourself from sounding like an idiot.

“Like this,” he says, lifting his hand up and curling his fingers inward into a loose fist. You try not to focus on the veins lining his hands, tearing your eyes away and mimicking his motions. You see him drop his hand from your peripherals and finally attempt to cut into the carrot.

Before you know it, the knife slips from your grasp, making a shallow but clean cut across your index knuckle. You let out a curse and hiss as you drop the knife.

“Whoa, are ya okay?” Osamu stands as you begin to make your way to the sink, blocking your path.

“It hurts, but I’m fine,” you reply, looking at him curiously before glancing at your finger. You examine it for a moment, seeing the familiar crimson begin to bead.

“Let me take a look,” says Osamu, gently grabbing a hold of your wrist. He lifts your hand up closer to his face, his eyebrows slightly creasing as you do your best to resist the blush creeping up to your cheeks. “You should be careful.”

“Well, it’s not like this was intentional,” you grumble, unable to meet his eyes. He sighs softly and you glance at him, opening your mouth to say something. However, your train of thought is  completely derailed when his lips wrap around the small incision.

You feel his warm tongue gently lick around it and you can’t help but stare at the way his lips look around your finger. He catches your eyes and pulls away.

“I used to do this to my brother whenever he’d get hurt or something when we were little,” he says, letting go of your wrist. Your face is burning as you drop your hand back down to your side. “Wait here, I’ll go grab a bandage.”

You nod wordlessly, mind still reeling as you try to figure out and process what exactly had just happened. You watch his retreating figure head towards the bathroom, disappearing for only a moment before resurfacing with a familiar pink wrapper with Hello Kitty’s face scattered across the outside cover, a gift he had received from his brother. He makes his way back over to you, pulling the tabs apart and plucking out the bandaid.

Without prompting, you lift your hand up towards him and watch as he moves your hand towards him with his pinky, wrapping it around your finger.

“There, all patched up. Is that too tight?” He asks, picking up the trash and crumpling it in his fist. You lift your hand up and examine his handiwork, nodding in approval.

“It’s perfect,” you say, feeling your stomach flutter at the self-satisfied smirk that’s found its way onto his face. “I still have to cut the vegetables, though.”

“Hand it over; I’ll do it.” He motions towards the knife.

You pout, making no indication to hand the utensil over to him. “I kind of wanted to cut the vegetables though.”

He raises a brow at you. “Are ya sure? Ya already butchered yer first chance; I don’t want blood all over my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen, huh?”

Osamu shrugs. “I hardly see ya in here, so it might as well be.”

“So are you gonna help me or not?” You raise a brow and choose to ignore his statement as you cross the kitchen to grab your phone, pulling up the recipe to skim through the instructions before placing it back down. “I’m supposed to Juliette these vegetables.”

Osamu stays quiet for a moment. “Do ya mean julienne?”

“Yeah, same thing,” you wave your hand dismissively, walking back over to the cutting board. You pick up the discarded knife, giving it a quick rinse. Upon returning to your original spot at the island, your hands position themselves once again, curling your fingers like Osamu had previously shown you.

“Wait, yer gonna end up hurting yourself again,” he says as he walks up behind you. “How thin are ya trying to cut this?”

“About this much,” you reply, positioning the knife towards the edge of the carrot.

“Okay, first things first,” he says as he wraps his arms around you. Your eyes widen as you feel his chest press against your back, his hands moving to hold yours. “Ya have to cut it in half and get a flat surface.”

He grabs your hand holding the knife and moves it to the middle of the carrot, wrapping his thick and long fingers around the handle, completely swallowing yours. He ensures that his grip is stable before pressing down, the blade making a sharp cut.

“Okay, so now that ya have this, ya said ya want to make them look like noodles, right?”

You can only nod your head, afraid that your voice will crack if you choose to speak. Your head feels fuzzy, your senses overwhelmed by the scent of his musky cologne hitting your nose and the way his strong arms continue to guide you. The heat radiating off his chest envelops you in an oddly comforting embrace and something about it feels very domestic. You try hard to keep your knees from buckling under you, shifting your weight between your feet. You immediately tense when you accidentally press your backside against his hips.

Briefly scanning the island countertop, you see that his phone is on the other side where he’d originally left it when you began cooking and try to ignore the sinful thoughts threatening to infiltrate your mind.

“Makes sense?” Osamu says, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“I-I think so,” you stammer, though you bite your lip and mentally scold yourself for your faltering voice.

“Alright,” he says, taking a step back. You exhale slowly, trying not to think of the loss of warmth. “While ya keep doing that, I’ll prepare the salmon. Where’s the recipe?”

“It’s on my phone.” You nod towards it, setting the knife down. He walks over to the side of the counter you’d left your phone at and brings it over to you. “What’s yer passcode?”

“That’s classified information, sir.” You see his eyes darken for a moment as you pluck your phone from his hand, typing in the digits before placing it in his open palm.

“Never thought you’d be callin’ me that so soon,” he says offhandedly, locating the recipe in your browser. You feel your lips part to say something, but no words come out.

You simply resume cutting the carrot and grab more vegetables, shaking your head to clear your wandering thoughts. You see Osamu grab the salmon from the fridge, pulling it out and getting some seasonings you’d bought earlier.

“Hey, can ya grab a pan from that cabinet there?” Osamu asks as he points to one of the bottom cabinets in front of your legs.

“Sure,” you nod and take a step back, opening the cabinet door and bending over at the hips. You rummage around for a decent-sized pan, feeling Osamu’s eyes on you before you straighten up. He’s quick to avert his eyes as he holds his hand out to you. You place the handle in his open palm and he takes it, setting it on top of the stove.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you prepare your own things, with you seasoning and cooking the vegetables while Osamu prepares the fish, searing it on the pan. As you both finish your portions, you decide to bring out your nicer plates for the occasion.

Opening one of the top cabinets, you stand on your toes to reach for the plates, wondering how they ended up so high to begin with.

“Need help?”

You jump slightly, startled when you feel his body pressed flush against yours with a hand on the dip of your waist as the other reaches above your head to grab two plates, placing them down onto the counter. You turn your head to look at him and realize just how close he is, his face merely centimeters away. His eyes are on your lips as you tongue pokes out to wet them before they flicker upwards to meet your eyes. You look up at him, anticipating his next move with bated breath, and feel his hand that had been holding the plates move to gently hold your jaw. He leans forward just slightly and your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet.

His lips move slowly against yours, though it’s nothing short of passionate. You feel his hand on your waist pull you closer to him and you lean into the warmth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to welcome the warm muscle inside, letting him explore freely.

The both of you seem to run out of air at the same time, pulling away breathlessly. Before you can say anything, he kisses down your jaw to your neck as you crane your head just slightly so he can have better access and you’re not straining your muscles. He nips gently at the skin before dragging his tongue along, finding a particularly tender spot to pay special attention to. A hiss slips past your lips and you’re reminded of how close he is to you when you begin to feel something hardening against your backside.

“If ya wanna stop, ya have to tell me now,” he mutters against your neck as both of his hands settle on your waist, thumbs playing with the hem of your shirt.

“I’d rather not,” you admit rather shamelessly. You can feel Osamu’s lips curve upwards against your skin as his hands give you a slight squeeze.

“If ya say so,” he says before one of his hands reaches between the two of you to untie your apron. “If ya ever need me to stop, let me know.”

You nod your head absentmindedly, slightly dizzy from the reality of what’s happening right now. One of his hands begins to slide upwards from your waist, cupping your clothed breast and giving it a squeeze, while the other slips downwards under your apron and pushes past the waistband of your shorts, hovering over your panties. Suddenly very aware of the wetness between your legs, you move to close them a little.

“That won’t do ya any good,” Osamu mutters against the back of your neck. As if to prove his point, he presses his middle finger against your clothed slit and swipes upward, humming to himself. “Yer practically dripping and I haven’t even started yet.”

A moan slips past your lips and you can only bite your lip in embarrassment at your own shamelessness.

“It’s just the two of us; you don’t have to be quiet,” he says, as if encouraging you to be as loud as you want and disturb your neighbors. When you still refuse to make another noise, he nudges your legs open with his knees, almost forcing you to lean over the counter for support. As if to further prove his point, he pushes your panties aside and slips his middle finger in between your folds, causing you to let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden intrusion.

“Osamu,” you whimper as you feel him kiss his way towards the back of your ear.

“What is it, baby?” His finger is still and unmoving inside of you as you try to gain any sort of friction, attempting to grind your hips against him. His hand doesn’t move as you feel his tongue trace the outer shell of your ear.

“Stop teasing me,” you practically whimper as you ball your hands into fists on the surface in front of you.

“What do ya want me to do?” He sounds smug and you can almost visualize his teasing smirk behind your closed lids.

“Just fuck me,” you say. You fight the embarrassment heating your cheeks, too aroused to focus on anything else.

“I know we’ve been living together for awhile now, but let’s not forget our manners,” he says, beginning to slide his finger out.

“M’Samu, please fuck me!” It comes out too eagerly, too desperately, but you want him to just do something to you.

“That’s all you needed to say,” he lets out a soft chuckle before he slides his finger back in. You find yourself leaning completely on the countertop so you don’t buckle under him and moan when he slides another finger inside, stretching you.

You were right; his fingers reach so much further than yours ever could.

His calloused fingers continue to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace as his other hand that had been on your breast moves down to slip under your shirt. You bite your lip as you feel him expertly unclip the bra before sliding around to cup the flesh, nudging your loose bra aside. His fingers pinch your hardening nipple and you breathe out his name.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he practically grunts, “if ya keep soundin’ like that, I won’t be goin’ easy on ya.”

Part of you has half the mind to take him up on the offer while the other is failing to form coherent words and thoughts.

A familiar tension begins to pull at your lower abdomen as you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. It seems that Osamu’s also aware, quickly slipping his hands out from your dripping cunt.

“Why’d you stop?” You whine as you turn back to look at him. He offers a smirk before removing his hands completely from your pants and lifting his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. The way his half-lidded eyes are locked on yours as he swirls his tongue around makes you clench helplessly around nothing.

“Don’t worry, yer gonna thank me later,” he says, dropping his hand. He begins to lower himself so he’s on his knees on the ground before he pulls your shorts and panties down in one clean tug. The cool air hits your wet heat and you bite your lip at the sensation.

You watch him with anticipation as he leans forward, using both hands to massage your ass a couple times before spreading the cheeks apart. He nudges your feet so you can spread a little wider for him, which you wordlessly oblige, and inhale shakily as he leans forward and licks a fat stripe up your slit.

“Fuck, Osamu,” you hiss as you turn back to look at him. You use one hand to reach around and weave your fingers through his hair, fisting it as he begins to sloppily lap at your cunt.

His tongue dives in and out, the wet squelch echoing around the apartment. You feel your legs tremble as he angles his head to reach a bit further before opting to have his fingers rejoin the fun. Your moans sound nearly pornographic as you attempt to grip at anything, unable to get yourself to properly stand as Osamu wags his head a couple times, swirling his tongue in the process.

A sharp gasp leaves you when you feel his fingers angle themselves and hit a spot you didn’t even know existed, your walls beginning to clench and flutter around him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, pushing his head deeper against you. You feel him hum against you as if to encourage you to release onto his face, so you do.

A strangled cry erupts from your throat as you feel every nerve ending spark up and you come undone above him. He lets you grind your hips against him a couple more times before he pulls away, breathing heavily as he stands up. He turns you around by your hips and you see your slick coating his lips and chin.

“Look at this mess,” he taunts you, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You don’t say anything and wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to taste yourself. As you do so, he makes quick work to get rid of his sweatpants and pulls away to lift his shirt over his head. You go ahead and do the same with your apron, tossing it onto the island behind him and removing your shirt and bra to leave the both of you stark naked in the kitchen.

You take a brief moment to unabashedly check him out, admiring how toned and built he is. Chewing on your bottom lip, you let your fingers trace along the hardened and defined lines of his abdomen, trailing your fingers down to palm him through his boxers. You see the fabric straining and recognize the heat rising to your cheeks as you feel how hard he is, creating a slightly darkened and damp spot where the head of his cock is located. You glance up at him and meet eyes as you hook your thumbs on his waistband, pulling them down. His length practically springs to life, standing proud and tall before you and your mouth practically waters at the sight.

Wrapping your fingers around the base, you bite your lip as you drag your hand upwards to the tip and collect his beading precum, spreading it around generously with the pad of your thumb before using it as lubricant to continue stroking him.

“Fuck,” he moans softly as you lick your lips, getting ready to get on your knees to return the favor that he so generously had given you moments ago. He grabs your wrist to stop you and you look at him curiously. “As much as I’d love to see you suck my cock, I just want to be inside of that pussy of yours right now.”

The hungry look in his eyes is all you need before you kiss him again, this time much sloppier than the previous ones. He maneuvers you around the kitchen for a moment and before you know it, you’re bent over the island countertop with a leg propped up on the cool surface. You hear Osamu spit into his hand and look back to see him give his thick cock a couple generous strokes before positioning himself with one hand while the other holds your hip.

You feel the bulbous head nudge your lower set of lips apart before slowly easing in, your back arching at the pressure already building inside of you. A soft hiss escapes your throat as you try to take all of him, grateful when he pauses once he’s bottomed out within you. You take a deep breath for a moment and feel your muscles relax slightly as you adjust accordingly.

“Are ya ready?” Osamu’s voice comes out surprisingly soft as he leans over you, placing a kiss between your shoulder blades. You nod quietly before feeling both hands on your hips as he slowly begins to pull out. You realize just how thick he is when you feel empty, though it doesn’t last for long when he slams right back into you. A strangled mewl bubbles from your throat as he begins to thrust in and out of you. You lower yourself onto your elbows on the counter and ball your hands into fists, no longer caring how you sound; you’re too lost in your own wave of pleasure.

As Osamu continues his ministrations, you feel the counter buzz slightly and hazily look around with half a mind to simply ignore it. You see Osamu’s phone shaking across the surface next to your discarded apron, the screen lit up with an unfamiliar name.

“’Samu, your phone,” you say between moans, “your phone is ringing.”

His hips slow, though his thrusts continue to hit deep inside of you. He doesn’t have to reach far to grab it and glances at the screen.

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath. “Stay still for me, will ya?”

You halfheartedly nod your head, though you can’t help but whine at the loss of friction as he stills inside of you.

“Hello?” His voice is even as he answers quickly. “This is Osamu, yes.”

It’s hard to ignore the slight frustration bubbling in your chest as he uses one hand to keep your hips still while the other holds his phone. He continues to speak formally, so you assume it’s probably someone important or has something to do with work. You know better than to tease him in the event that this call is actually important, but you can’t resist the urge to just roll your hips a little.

There’s a slight hitch in Osamu’s voice before he clears his throat, though it sounds more like a warning to you than anything. However, that doesn’t stop you as you grow more bold, deciding to create your own rhythm of shallow thrusts. His grip on your hip tightens, though it’s not enough to hurt you just yet.

“Something just came up, so I’m gonna have to call ya back,” you hear Osamu say, his voice becoming more strained as each second ticks by. When he finally hangs up, the phone smacks onto the table, startling you to a halt.

“Sorry, I couldn’t w-”

“Ya think yer so cute, dontcha? I told ya to stay still.” His voice is dangerously low as he hunches over, practically growling in your ear. You whimper softly in response, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. You’re not sure if you should be as turned on as you are right now, feeling your walls clench around him.

He stands upright and reaches around to grab one of your arms, practically yanking you back so you’re also standing up. His other hand reaches around to grab your other arm, pinning your wrists behind your back.

“If yer gonna act like a slut, I’m gonna fuck ya like one,” he snarls lowly and you resist the urge to moan. He manages to reach for your apron and rolls it up, looping it around your elbows.

As one hand holds your newly bound arms behind your back, the other holds your hips before he begins to pull out of you. You feel his whole length leave you empty with the exception of the tip and you’re about to complain again when you feel him slam back in roughly.

“Is this what ya thought of when ya were touchin’ yerself?”

You hardly contain the cry of mixed pain and pleasure as your back arches, his hips snapping against yours at a relentless pace. You can barely process his words, though you know the embarrassment will hit you later; you simply can’t form coherent enough thoughts to care. The hand that was on your hip leaves but only momentarily before his palm claps against your ass. You yelp in surprise as he releases your arms.

“What, did ya never get spanked as a kid?” Osamu taunts as he rubs the reddening skin. You lean back over, supporting yourself on your elbows. His comment barely processes in your head as he does it again.

Coherent words fail to form as you feel your legs begin to tremble. You’re practically running towards another orgasm and you can tell Osamu is too, based on his unstable rhythm and sloppier movements. You feel one of his hands reach around you to play with your nipples while you let your own hand rub your clit, the sensations overwhelming you in a crashing wave of pure bliss.

As your walls tighten and flutter, Osamu pulls out and fists his cock a couple times before you feel hot ropes of cum paint your back and ass, a guttural groan leaving him.

“Holy fuck,” he pants once he recovers from his orgasm. You’re still shaking, bent over the island, breathing heavily.

A dull ringing can be heard in your ears from the intensity of your climax, but you faintly hear the sink running for a moment. Not long after, you feel a warm and damp towel wipe across the mess on your backside and Osamu’s gentle arm pulls you up.

“Hey, was I too rough on ya?” His voice is soft and you shake your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he hands you your clothes from the ground. “Do ya wanna eat now and shower later?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” you sigh as your head begins to clear up. You look over to your forgotten food, your mouth curving downwards into a frown. “Wait, did you not turn off the stove?”

“I was a little preoccupied.”

[identityvore]

i was wondering if you could do some vore bulge attention type fic? or a survivor eating a hunter would be pretty neat as well!! ty if you read this..

“Naib Sssssubedar…~”

Oh god. Why now, when the match had just started? Naib looked behind him, finding the semi transparent serpent woman towering over him. Yidhra only showed herself in a match when she truly wanted to torment someone. He could feel her piercing glare through her blindfold. Evidently his near flawless performance in their last match together had really pissed her off.

“You’re quite the pain in the tail, you know. Worry not; one day I shall have your head as a trophy, your bones made into fine jewelry for me.” she taunted. Her voice dripped with venom, her long body coiling like a cobra ready to strike. Naib grimaced as he braced himself to flee.

“I think you’d want someone prettier.” He barely had the time to retort before lunging at him. She wasn’t even bothering to summon a Follower this time! Naib backed away, eyes wide and heart pounding. Sharp claws swiped at the Mercenary, eager to slice apart his flesh. As she reached to seize him, he swiftly managed to grab her hair and shove her head into his mouth.

The Mercenary momentarily paused in disbelief. Had he really done that, and on instinct? He didn’t have much time to process, as the Dream Witch was angrily thrashing, threatening to break free. Naib grasped her thin waist, not taking any time to savor his impromptu meal before stuffing her further down his throat. Her human half was a bit frail, not too hard to gulp down.

Naib soon found himself at Yidhra’s hips, right before her long, dark, snake tail. Her scales were smooth on his tongue, but he couldn’t place a flavor. He grunted as he put in more effort to swallow down her wide hips, but the rest of the tail was easier past the thickest part.

Yidhra was still struggling and thrashing against Naib’s strained belly and throat. His already huge belly continued ballooning outwards with each series of gulps. Naib furrowed his brow, slurping up her long tail like a string of meaty spaghetti. The end gave a few more irate flicks before disappearing past Naib’s lips and down his gullet, sealing her digestive fate.

“No! No! How could a pathetic little rat like you stuff me down your pitiful throat?!” Yidhra shouted in fury. She began to writhe inside of him, thrashing in an attempt to upset Naib’s stomach enough to get free. Unfortunately, all this did was cause his belly to tighten as he gave a loud belch.

Naib groaned as he practically laid on top of his bloated stomach. He was no stranger to stuffing himself whenever food was available, but this was too fucking much! It was going to take forever to digest her, let alone work her off. Another loud burp escaped him, sure to alert the other survivors. And of course, that damned Magician came running out of nowhere.

“Naib, where have you been?! You’ve been containing this entire time, but-!” Servais froze upon seeing Naib, half laying on a massive, wriggling belly. It took a solid moment for him to comprehend the sight. “Naib…where is the hunter?” the Magician asked.

“Right here, Le Roy,” Naib said, patting his overstuffed gut. “I think the match is done. I sure as hell can’t do anymore rescuing at the moment.” His fellow survivor blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.

“You…you swallowed the Dream Witch?!” he exclaimed. Servais flinched as Naib let out another reverberating belch, his gut giving a monstrous rumble. Naib raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah? What else would leave my gut this stuffed?” he remarked. Yidhra gave a muffled, angered yell, but it was drowned out by more gurgling. “Oh god…I hope you guys can handle the rest of the decoding…”

Servais was a mix of horrified and disgusted, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Only a few survivors were really capable of devouring an entire hunter, let alone one as powerful as that serpent. Some fascination crept in as he stepped up to Naib, who was essentially using his own stomach as a mattress.

“Was…was it worth it?” he asked. He placed a hand on Naib’s belly, finding that it was quite firm. He saw the faint outline of Yidhra’s body, barely able to squirm in the tightness of her fleshy prison. He started rubbing the Mercenary’s stomach, easing out a bit of the tension. Naib patted his massive gut, lidding his eyes.

“Honestly, I’ve had better. She had a really weird aftertaste too. Not to mention she’ll be a pain to work off.” he said, gasping and burping again. He had to admit, Servais’s rubbing was doing wonders for his aching tummy. The acids were slowly but steadily softening Yidhra and eating away at her scales. She snarled and tried to scratch open the stomach walls, but her claws had already been worn down. Servais hummed a bit…then realized what exactly he was doing.

“Agh, what am I doing?!” he exclaimed, pulling away. “Just-! I’ll tell the others you’ll catch up. They’re already itching to leave this miserable place.” Servais ran off, briefly throwing a glance back at Naib. Damn it all, he hoped this wouldn’t awaken anything in him…

Naib gave a teasing wave before holding his gut. It was very gradually shrinking, the Dream Witch’s struggles almost completely dying by now. He was getting pretty drowsy with all this meat digesting away…a nap couldn’t hurt, right?

[mintmatcha]

ukai keishin - grumpy

amy!!!! ty so much for the request- i really admire your writing and i hope you like this!!!]

Summary: just a snapshot of your relationship with keishin

Contains: NFSW, 18+, no reader pronouns, reader has a vagina, new relationship/established relationship, soft smut, slight mention of relationship issues.

ukai x reader

word count: 4k

cross posted: ao3

The woody vine digs into the pad of your thumb as you pluck another pepper. The repetition has dug a noticeable indentation into the skin, one that makes you wince every time you harvest a vegetable. In the low light of pre-dawn, sun still tucked behind the mountains, you can't see the bruising on your fingers, but you can feel how it pulses. Popping the digit into your mouth, the warmth of your tongue is automatically soothing, so much so that you can ignore the soft taste of soil on your skin.

“I told you to bring gloves.” Keishin chides, barely looking up at you. He’s squatted a couple feet away, elbows resting on his thighs as he works. The rubber boots, with his oversized overalls crammed into the top, squeak every time he shifts. Pick, squeak, pick, squeak. You open your mouth to tease him, but the way his eyes meet yours, steeled and firm, tell you he’s not in the mood. Cinching his teeth around the worn leather, he pulls his hand from the glove and leaves it dangling from his mouth, lips curled to avoid touching the dust directly. Even in his goofy attire, there’s something about his focus- the downward cast of his eyes, the hint of his canine over the leather, the steadiness of his hands- that makes your heart flutter. Wordlessly, he takes the glove out of his mouth and tosses it your way. You catch it with a fumble.

“Are you sure?” you ask as you pull it on. The tips of the glove gap above your fingertips, bending outward as you clench your fist.  “What about you?”

He shrugs and returns to work. Even in the darkness you can see his scowl. “I guess I’m not as delicate as you.”

You didn’t blame him. He doesn’t mean to be this… grumpy. This was the worst time of year for Keishin; harvest season overlapped with volleyball preliminaries. The late nights he had been pulling with the team after work on top of these early mornings at his family’s farm had to be draining. It was no wonder that date nights had become nearly nonexistent. It didn’t help that your work schedule often led to you working on the weekends, meaning that between the two of you there were no free days. Sleepovers are far and few between; both of you still live at home and, despite the fact you are both well into your twenties, your parents weren’t too keen on your sleeping next to someone while unwed. No free days, no free nights.

Again, you didn’t blame him. It wasn’t like he was trying to avoid you, three jobs was a lot for anyone. It was hard to ignore your concern for his well-being, but he was always quick to dismiss your worries. ‘I’m an adult.’ he always insisted. ‘I can balance myself.’ 

Was it selfish to miss him? Was it selfish to wish there was an extra hour in his day for you? 

“You didn’t have to come.” Ukai says, matter-of-fact. “You should be sleeping right now.” 

“I want to be here.” you insist. It’s almost a lie. Do you really want to be here, squatting in the dirt, picking vegetables at 5:30am? Of course not, but you wanted to be here for him. With him. 

The metal thermos at your feet wobbles as you adjust, the deep squat you’ve been sitting in starting to ache deep in your thighs. Dropping forward onto your knees, the gravel of the path digging into your kneecaps, you wrap your hands around the metal, pressing it against your chest to feel the ambient warmth. The blonde doesn’t turn from his work, but he does tilt his head towards you, a small sign of his attention.

“You gonna hold it or drink it?’ 

You huff before taking a delicate sip, trying to avoid burning your lips. “I’m savoring it, ‘Shin.”

“ ‘Savoring it.’ ” he repeats. The grit of sleep still clings to his voice. He sounds weathered, tired. “Are you gonna let me ‘savor’ some of that?”

“Maybe.” you take another sip before placing the cup back down, this time closer to him, a silent invitation. It’s like trying to feed a stray cat, luring him in with the promise of something tasty. “If you’re good.”

A long moment passes and he doesn’t move, he just studies you. There may have been a flicker of a smile, a hint of a good mood hiding underneath the surface, but it's gone before you can process it.

“You know.” he says, “I don’t know how you do it.” he continues working with bare hands and, even without protection, he works so much faster than you. You can tell he’s been doing this for years; every twist of his wrist seems practiced. It’s something you try and emulate each time you’re here with him, but it only slows you down more. 

“Do what?”

Keishin finally stops. He chews his cheek for a moment, eyes flickering across your features. He opens his mouth, then shuts it with a sigh as he weakly gestures to the thermos at your feet. “The coffee. How do you make the coffee?”

You can’t help but sigh as you fall back onto your seat. You cross your legs as you grab the thermos, taking a deep pull. Again, you savor it with a hum and Keishin snorts at your antics. He picks from the row of plants once more before standing. Hands on the back of his pelvis, he stretches slowly, popping his back with the same care an old man would. It reminds you of his grandfather, but you keep that remark to yourself. 

“ ‘Shin, you make yourself coffee every day- probably the same way I do.” you say as he plops himself next to you. The cup is already waiting for him when he reaches for it.

“But yours is always better.” he doesn’t say it with the sweetness of a compliment- he says it like a fact. It shouldn’t make you smile this wide, but it does. He blows over the lid of the mug, watching the steam twist into the air for a moment before taking a drink. It was your coffee, but  you had made it for him- just a splash of cream, a crazy amount of sugar: just the way he likes it.  The crinkle at the corner of his eye as drinks tells you that he notices. 

“Are you savoring it?” you ask. He just closes his eyes and sighs.

"I guess I am."

Even without looking, his pinky finds yours, looping together gently. It's the gloveless hand, finding yours. Bare skin against bare skin, warmth against warm. Your body prickles with warmth as he squeezes; something about him pulling you closer, even if it’s just a finger’s width closer, makes your heart jump.  It’s funny how the smallest gesture makes you melt. Keishin didn’t always have a lot to give you; your relationship was a collection of these small moments together, settled between his jobs and yours, but it was enough. 

Every moment together is restorative.

“Cinnamon.” you press a kiss into his shoulder as you snag your cup back. He peeks at you through one open eye,  “I put cinnamon in the coffee.”

Keishin leans into you, resting his head against your shoulder. He nuzzles into your sleeve, drawing in a deep breath, before pulling away to sit up straight again. Reaching back into the row of plants before you, he plucks one carefully before dropping it into the bucket. “Nah, that’s not it.”

You blink. “Uh, yeah. It is.”

“Nah. It’s because it’s made with love.” he smirks.

You pretend to think for a moment. "Actually, I didn't make this cup with love- so you're wrong."

He rolls his head back to watch you. "Oh yeah?"

"I made it with hate." 

"Really." he tilts his body, chest pressed against your shoulder.

"You didn’t taste my loathing?" you tease.

The tip of his nose grazes your ear, nudging you softly. His breath warms the side of your face, lips just a moment from your skin. He’s patient, waiting for you to come to him. You try and resist for just a moment, but he nudges you with a huff. 

You can’t help but crumble.

 There’s a hint of a chuckle as you finally turn to meet his lips. The kiss is off center, connecting at the corner of your mouth. You try to pull back to correct it when a leathered hand grips on to your jaw and he holds your face steady, squishing your lips with sheer force. Ukai doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping your lower lip before dipping into your mouth. He tastes like coffee and cinnamon, sweet and bitter. With every movement, he savors you, pulling you deeper and deeper until the both of you are twisted into each other's embrace. 

When he pulls away, it’s too soon. It’s not until he’s panting against you that you realize your own lungs are burning for air, almost as if your hunger for him had outweighed your need to breathe.

He hums thoughtfully. “I dunno, tastes like love to me.”

You roll your eyes, trying to bite back your smirk as you lean in for another kiss. “God, you’re the worst, Shin.”

This time, he doesn’t connect. Instead, he pulls away, mouth downturned once again as he stares back into the sea of green. It’s an unfocused stare, focused more on his thoughts than his surroundings. 

“Yeah, I kinda am, aren’t I?”

“Hey, what-” you struggle with what to say. “Don’t be like that.”

“I mean, it’s true.” he shrugs. “This is our first date in, what? 3 weeks? And we’re working on my fucking grandpa’s-”

Your elbow cracks against the soft of his ribs, a bit harder than necessary. He wheezes slightly as you knock the air out of him. “Negativity be gone.”

He whines a bit too dramatically. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with you? Did you learn that from Sugawara? I’m never letting you watch a game ever again.”

It’s hard to hold back your smirk. “I mean- it worked! I’m not going to let you ruin the moment with your nega-!”

“Shut up for a second!” he says and this time he’s the one throwing an elbow. “I’m trying to apologize for being a shitty boyfriend!”

“You shut up!” you mirror him, but he’s ready this time. His response is quick, catching your arms against his. You two continue, poking back and forth roughly, laughter bubbling up. “You don’t need to apologize for being busy!”

“Well, I’m going to.” he grabs the edge of your shirt, leaning into you once again. “Come here and accept it.”

The gravel shifts under your feet as you scramble to stand, pulling out of his grasp. He watches you in confusion as you back away, but his look quickly transforms into something playfully predatory. The shift is wordless, but both of you understand the game that’s about to unfold. 

“Come. Here.”

“No way.”

You turn on your heel and run. Keishin’s quick, grunting with effort as he throws himself forward. The sound of his shoes, squeaking against the rock, is faster than you anticipate and you have to force your legs to pump quicker. The  cool morning air burns your throat as you barrel down the row, the dew covered leaves brushing against your arms and leaving wet stripes. Something about the simple act of moving dissolves all your tension, all your worries. 

You turn your head to check in on your pursuer. Keishin is behind you, running with just as much force as you, but he’s grinning ear to ear with breathless laugh. It’s not his usual mischievous grin, but a soft one. A relaxed one. His baseball cap is halfway off of his head, caught by the wind, but he doesn’t reach to save it. He’s too busy reaching for you.

Everything is quiet except the two of you, laughing breathlessly as you chase each other like children. The sun has just started to crest the mountains, illuminating the sky with a blur of pastels. The pink of the sky reflects in his hair, catching in the glint of his eye as his gaze meets yours, and something in your brain tells you that you’ll remember this exact moment for the rest of your life.  You want the moment to freeze, to stay  in this childish bliss forever-

-but, of course, it doesn’t.

The rubber toe of Keishin’s boot catches a rock, sending him tumbling forward into a slow fall. He stumbles, catching himself for a moment before falling onto his knees, then his face. With a wince, he rolls on to his back, arms and legs spread eagle in defeat. Oversized pants, chunky boots, a stupid baseball cap: he looked more like an exhausted toddler than an adult. You slow to a jog, trying to pretend his fall wasn’t absolutely hilarious, but your stomach is clenching with the repressed laughter. Backtracking, you join his crumbled form.

“You okay?” you’re panting much harder than you should be. God,  shouldn’t the smoker be less athletic? 

“No, I think I’m really hurt.” 

“Where? Your knees?” you drop to your knees immediately and reach for him, taking his hands in yours. The palm of his non gloved hand is scraped, but there’s no sign of blood. 

“My ego.” he groans, “I think I bruised it.”

You  let out something that isn’t quite a sigh or a groan. “You jerk.” you lean down and place a kiss on the bridge of his nose, right over where it crinkles when he smiles. “You had me worried for a second.”

He cranes forward to press his lips against yours, but only going as far as to brush his lips against yours. Every movement of your lips is a ghost against his, each breath more present than the feeling of skin. Each kiss is just a tease, barely a taste, and it makes you feel hungry. His hand circles your waist before drawing a line up your spine and your hunger deepens, burning deep into your core.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately.” he says against your skin, hand guiding you closer to him. You lay down next to him, resting your head on his bicep. It should feel silly, to be laying in the dirt, in the middle of the field, but there’s something so natural about being with him that makes you forget about your surroundings. There’s something natural and unadulterated about being quiet with each other.

“It won’t be like this forever, I promise.” he’s the first to break the silence. “One day, we’ll see each other every day. Just- be patient with me.”

You kiss his shoulder. “You’re worth the wait.” you place another one a few inches upwards. “I miss you, but you’ll always be worth the wait.”

Ukai rolls, throwing a knee over your hips to loom over you. His bangs tickle your forehead as he kisses you. It’s short. “I miss you.”

He places another peck on your lips. “Every day.”

Another kiss catches you off guard. “Every night.” 

Another one. This one is long enough for you to kiss back. “Constantly. I miss you constantly.”

You hook a leg over his ass, fingers starting to fiddle with the buttons holding his overalls up. “Prove it.”

He hesitates. Tilting his head up, he holds his breath as he scans the row, searching for any signs of movement in the distance. Until now, you had forgotten that other people even exist. The air is still, only the distant sound of crows cutting through the silence. His muscles relax against you after a moment, gaze returning to study your features. 

“I missed you.” he leans in and breathes into the shell of your ear before sinking his canines into the lobe. The sharpness sends you keening in surprise, pressing yourself farther into him. He takes the opportunity to tuck his arm under the arch of your back, using the angle to hold your hips against his, his forming bulge pressed right against your core. Your hands are still twiddling with the clasp on his overalls, your proximity to him making the simple task much harder than it should be. Every one of his movements is pulling you into him, like he can’t get you close enough to be satisfied. He sucks on the soft on your neck finishing the hickey off with a bite.

“Why’d you wear these stupid, ugly pants?” you huff as you finally free a button. Ukai breaks away from your neck to laugh before tracing his tongue across the bruise. The warmth surprises you and you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. 

“Fuck off.” his free hand easily unclinches your pants before shoving them down. The denim digs into the plush of your thighs as he struggles to place himself between your legs. The ground is cold and coarse against your bare skin, but you can’t focus on anything other than the heat of his breath trailing down your neck.

“Fuck- I missed you.” he repeats as you finally unclasp his overalls and slide them down. They hang off his hips, just low enough for his erection to hang over the fabric, his dooling cockhead resting against your stomach. Firmly, he taps his cock against you with a soft thwack, watching the translucent strings of precum connecting you stretch and break. It dribbles on the hem of your shirt and you want to admonish him for it, but when your eyes meet, his blown out pupils take your words away. The way he watches you, eyes hazed over with lust, is borderline feral. All you can do is kick down a pant leg, freeing your leg and allowing it to fall farther open for him.

Keishin slides further down you, greedily dragging the spongy head of his cock through your folds, gathering your slick. Each pass across your clit makes you twitch, thighs squeezing around his hips.  With a wolfish grin, he splits your cunt with his free hand and whistles at the sight. 

“I missed this pretty little pussy.” he pressed forward unceremoniously and the head of his cock squeezes into you with a pop. The stretch aches, but something deeper in you is burning for more. “Fuck, look how wet you are… “

He’s quick to bottom out, slamming his hips into yours as if he can’t hold back any longer. His eyes are struggling to stay open as he rolls his hips against you faster, struggling to continue watching your poor pussy struggle to take him. The weeks without him have left you desperate, hips uncontrollably bucking against his. The rhythm is off, your bodies struggling to keep up with each other and just ending up slamming against each other unevenly. It’s wild,  it leaves you breathless but your approaching high is so painfully close, neither of you can slow down to gather yourselves.

“You’re so good, fuck, so tight…” his head lolls forward, eyes fluttering closed, “You… so good… so hot… fuck, I missed you.”

Your hands wander up the front of his shirt, nails scraping against his chest. “Ple-ase, Keishin.” you beg, too breathless to say anything else. The sound of your voice makes him crumple over with a whine, fingers digging painfully hard into the fat of your hips as he struggles to pull you impossibly close. His cock twitches, spilling pulse after pulse of hot cum deep inside you. 

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” he murmurs, hips dragging out of you slowly. The movement makes you feel sloppy, the mixture of his cum and yours spilling down the crack of your ass. The sheer lewdness of it makes your core clench with desire, but the fading heat in your core makes you feel borderline nauseous. 

As you begin to untangle yourself, trying to hide your disappointment, he pulls you back in.

“Don’t.” he whispers into your chest. “I’m not- I’m not done with you.”

Ukai’s headband has slipped backwards, barely hanging on to the back of his head. The mess of blonde, half of it plastered to his forehead, tickles your cheek as he kisses your cheek. The edge of desperation is gone, replaced with something gentler, as he rolls back into you. Every bit of friction has been replaced with the slick, warmness of his cum. 

“I wanna wake up next to you every day.” Something about cumming has made him sappy. His hand dips low to circle your clit, tracing those practiced patterns you love so much. This time, instead of a fast, dangerous rise, the heat inside you pours slowly, like magma flowing through your core. 

“I’m going to buy you a big ol’ house.” he mumbles into your chest, looking up at you through his eyelashes. “And a pretty little ring. And -oh fuck you feel so good-  and, and you’re never gonna miss me again.” 

God, the term making love is corny, so impossibly cringey, but as he whispers those promises into your skin, you understand it. It’s more about the need to feel closer, the need to hold and be held. It’s three weeks of emotions that neither of you can vocalize.

Fuck, you feel so full. Physically, emotionally. Every caress is tender, delicate and appreciative. Your thumbs trace over his crow’s feet and for the umpteeth time this morning, you savor the moment. 

“I wanna be with you forever.”

Everything feels in focus- the friction of his jeans against your knees, the fabric clinging to your stomach, prickled with sweat, the ministrations of your lover’s lips against your skin as he whispers sweet nothings into you- but everything fades as you cum. Your orgasm hits slowly; you don’t even know you’re there until your legs are kicking out uncontrollably. Fingers tangled in the cotton of his shirt, you keen one last time. In the blur, you’re faintly aware of him joining you, his words dissolving into whines.

It takes a heartbeat for everything to still again. Keishin tilts his head up, studying you for a moment before speaking. 

“‘M so tired.” he essentially collapses on you, knocking the air out of your lungs. The lay he goes immediately slack in your arms would have been cute if whte weight of his body wasn’t pressing our bare skin into the gravel under you.  “I’m gonna nap.”

After quickly ruffling his hair, you press him up, gentling encouraging him to get off. “Come on, sleepyhead, your grandpa’s gonna start looking for us if we’re gone for too long.”

Keishin grimaces, propping himself up onto his elbows as he withdraws from you. The air against the mess on your thighs makes you shiver. “Please don’t mention the old man while I’m still inside you.”

He falls back into his heels and leaves you laying there. Before adjusting himself, he takes your bare leg by the ankle and tries to slip your pant leg back on. The hem gets caught on your heel and he fumbles.

“I can dress myself, Shin, you don’t have to.” you sigh, even as you adjust to make it easier. Denim sticks to your wet skin and he continues to work, completely ignoring your protest. As you lift your hips, letting him slide it past your waist. “Did you mean it?” 

He hums a question, buttoning your pants.

“You really wanna spend the rest of your days with me?”

Ukai looks up at you. “Well. Yeah, of course.” he smiles, “Who else is gonna put cinnamon in my coffee?”

[robininthelabyrinth]

For your prompts: Mingjue is ace or demi, and somehow between taking over the sect at a very young age and never displaying interest in it, no one ever gave him The Sex Talk. All the aunts and uncles assumed someone else took care of it. Then Huaisang gets to that age. He seems to be very interested in sex. He needs The Sex Talk. Mingjue feels like that should come from him (he's taken care of all the rest pf raising him after all), but he doesn't have the info to do that.

How does Mingjue give him The Sex Talk? Or alternatively, does Huaisang end up already knowing and giving The Talk to his big brother instead?

ao3

“All right,” Nie Mingjue said, sitting down and gesturing for Nie Huaisang to sit down across from him. “I guess we’re going to have to talk about this.”

“I knew this day would come,” Nie Huaisang said, looking unbearably tragic. “I’m going to die of embarrassment before the day is through, da-ge. Won’t you have pity?”

Nie Mingjue knew him too well, though.

“Okay,” he said.

Nie Huaisang frowned at him.

“If it’s too embarrassing to talk about sex, you’re not ready to talk about sex,” Nie Mingjue said with a casual shrug. “We can postpone the conversation to –”

“No! I want to hear about it!” Nie Huaisang scowled at him. “Da-ge, everyone else got the sex talk! You wouldn’t want me to fall behind, would you?”

Nie Mingjue blinked innocently at him. “But Huaisang, you said…”

“Never mind what I said!”

Nie Mingjue tried to maintain his façade of innocent neutrality but quickly cracked in the face of Nie Huaisang’s exasperation; he started laughing.

Nie Huaisang grumbled.

“There’s not much to say,” Nie Mingjue said, wiping his eyes. “And it’s not as if you can’t get by without it, you know. I mean, no one ever gave me the talk.”

Nie Huaisang frowned. “No one? What about A-die? I mean, before…”

“He was busy, and kept postponing it,” Nie Mingjue said, shrugging. “And then he died, and everyone assumed he’d done it already. It’s fine. Everything I needed to learn, I learned from books, and you’re going to do the same.”

“…books.”

“Yep, books.”

Nie Huaisang heaved a sigh. “You’re going to make me learn this incredibly important subject from textbooks? Really, da-ge?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue said.

“You’re robbing me of a valuable life experience here.”

“I’m so sad for you,” Nie Mingjue said dryly, pulling out a box and spreading out the books he’d obtained just for this purpose. “Now, I know you hate studying, I know you think it’s boring and a waste of time, but I really think in this instance –”

“It’s fine,” Nie Huaisang said quickly. His eyes were fixated on the books in front of him, and for some reason he’d flushed bright red, even though it wasn’t all that hot in the room. “I don’t mind. I’ll study hard, da-ge.”

“I feel like I’ve heard that before once or twice,” Nie Mingjue remarked, then shook his head. “Anyway, I think just one or two –”

“I need all of them.”

Nie Mingjue blinked, sincerely this time. “All of them?” he said, and looked down at the books. “Huaisang, I don’t think you understand. I got a selection so that you could have your pick, but they’re by and large very repetitive; each one more or less describes the same basic acts –”

“I need all of them. For reasons.”

“…all right,” Nie Mingjue said, bemused but generally pleased by Nie Huaisang’s highly unusual enthusiasm for study. “I thought I was robbing you of a valuable life experience?”

“That was before! I didn’t realize the books were going to be spring books,” Nie Huaisang said. He’d grabbed one and flipped it open, staring wide-eyed at one of the illustrations.

“What type of textbook would there be for this subject other than a spring book?” Nie Mingjue asked, wondering – as ever – if he’d missed something. Raising children was hard, and raising Nie Huaisang was harder; everyone agreed. “Anyway, I’m given to understand that the art is a bit exaggerated, especially in terms of proportion, and the accompanying text can use some rather strange metaphors, but fundamentally the acts described appear generally consistent throughout the various sources. For example, if you look at this one, you can see that the woman has –”

“Yes, da-ge, I can see.”

“I’m just pointing it out,” Nie Mingjue said defensively. Nie Huaisang was being especially impossible to understand today. “Anyway, it’s all a bit weird, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Nie Huaisang said. “Very weird. Incredibly weird. You know what, I think I need to think about this privately for a while.”

“I…are you sure?”

“Very sure.”

“If you insist.” Nie Mingjue stood up. “If you have any questions –”

“Yes I’ll be sure to ask you please leave now thank you good-bye.”

Nie Mingjue found himself outside the door to Nie Huaisang’s room, not entirely sure how his much smaller younger brother had managed to push him out so effectively. Maybe some of that saber training was actually having an impact, however spaced out and half-hearted Nie Huaisang’s efforts were.

Cheered by the thought, Nie Mingjue headed back to his office, feeling very good about himself: that wasn’t nearly as awkward as all the other people had made it sound. It’d been no problem at all!

Of course, a few months later, he found out that Nie Huaisang had started buying up spring books like he’d developed a mania for it.

“That seems fine,” he said to the disciple who’d reported it. “I mean, it’s a bit strange, yes, but he’s always been fond of hobbies that involve collecting things. Birds, weird rocks…that sort of thing.”

“I’m not sure it’s…exactly the same,” the disciple said carefully. “But if you’re not concerned, Sect Leader, we’ll just leave it be.”

“…I’ll talk with him,” Nie Mingjue decided, mostly because of the weird expression on the disciple’s face, and the disciple looked relieved.

Later that evening, he followed up on his word.

“Huaisang, I heard you’re buying spring books,” he said, and Nie Huaisang nearly choked on his soup.

“You can’t just bring that up over dinner!” he hissed.

“…why not?”

“You just – can’t!”

“I can, and did,” Nie Mingjue said. “Some of the disciples have expressed some concern about it.”

Nie Huaisang’s shoulders went up by his ears defensively. “Is it because I’m buying cutsleeve books as well as regular books?”

“They sell cutsleeve books? Really?” Nie Mingjue said blankly, temporarily distracted. “I wouldn’t have thought there’d be enough of a market to make the printing worthwhile. Aren't they supposed to be relatively uncommon? …anyway, no, it’s not about that.”

“…you don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind?” Nie Mingjue said, puzzled. “I’m glad you’re expanding your horizons.”

“You…are?” Nie Huaisang was blinking rapidly.

“I mean, you’re reading? Reading is good. I’m always happy when you advance your scholarly pursuits,” Nie Mingjue said. “I mean, I’d still like it if you spent a bit more time on your saber…”

“Wait,” Nie Huaisang said hastily, clearly wanting to avoid the subject of his saber training. “If you don’t mind the fact that I’m buying them, or the content, what is the concern?”

“Mostly quantity, I think?” Nie Mingjue hadn’t been able to figure it out either. “You’ve exceeded your allowance twice already, and really, how many books recounting the same exact content can you really need?”

“It’s not quite the same content,” Nie Huaisang said. “There are different…scenarios.”

“Yes, but it all leads to the same place in the end, doesn’t it? Hand, mouth, front, back, inside or outside; you read one, you’ve read them all. Though I guess the cutsleeve ones are different?”

“Not really,” Nie Huaisang admitted. “But maybe take a look anyway? Maybe you’ll like those better…here, come up to my room.”

Nie Huaisang had, apparently, started in on making quite a collection, and from the way he puttered around trying to find the right ones to share, seemed to be in the process of becoming a little connoisseur. It was pretty adorable, actually; Nie Mingjue couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Nie Huaisang so enthusiastic.

“Having two spears involved does seem to make it a bit more awkward,” he concluded after paging through a few. “And obviously you can’t do it from the front in the same way, but other than that the mechanics generally seem the same. I suppose there’s really only so many ways you can twist the human body…”

“How about this one, then?” Nie Huaisang said, offering up a book about mirror grinders sharing a toy between them. “Twice the young ladies involved!”

“That seems even less efficient. If they wanted to be penetrated, why be a mirror grinder instead of finding a man?”

Nie Huaisang seemed somewhat taken aback by the question. “Maybe they just fell in love with another woman first?” he eventually suggested.

That seemed reasonable enough, so Nie Mingjue nodded agreeably. “Makes sense that they’d use a toy, then. Otherwise wouldn't they be stuck with using just mouths and hands? Though I suppose there’s always the eponymous grinding motion, too.”

Nie Huaisang reached over and put his hand in Nie Mingjue’s lap.

“Huaisang! What are you doing?”

“Just checking,” Nie Huaisang said, rubbing the back of his head. “You’re really not…Wait, let me find you some others. Maybe you’ll like these better – they have more scenario involved.”

Truly Nie Huaisang had a wide collection. There were solo stories, coupled stories, stories involved groups of three or more, stories involving people being tied up or doing the tying, one story involving whips and pinching nails that Nie Mingjue initially thought was a torture manual that had gotten mixed in by mistake except for how the receiving party seemed extremely enthusiastic about it. There was even one involving –

“Fish?”

“Tentacles.”

“People want to fuck fish?”

“It’s not – you know what, I don’t know, maybe they do,” Nie Huaisang said, throwing up his hands. “Octopi are a surprisingly popular subject along the coast, and some of the artwork from Dongying features it.”

“You have works from Dongying?” Nie Mingjue asked, impressed. It wasn’t every young man’s hobby that involved international commerce. “You’re really turning into a collector, Huaisang.”

“I’m not – it’s not –” Nie Huaisang grimaced. “You know what, maybe the disciples are right and I should cut down on purchasing so many.”

“Why? If you’re enjoying your new hobby –”

“There’s a difference between being known as the guy who has some good spring books and being known as the guy who collects spring books as a hobby. The latter just sounds pathetic.”

Nie Mingjue wasn’t entirely sure about that.

“Well, it’s up to you,” he said, and started to get up to leave, only to have Nie Huaisang tug on his hand.

“Da-ge, I have a question.”

Nie Mingjue sat back down.

“Have you ever…?” Nie Huaisang nodded at the books.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, wrinkling his nose a bit at the thought. “It seems like more trouble than it’s worth, really.”

“What about…uh…” He gestured at one in particular. Nie Mingjue leaned over and checked; it was one of the ones featuring a single man touching himself. “Do you…?”

“Oh, sure,” Nie Mingjue said. “Every once in a while. Don't most people? But there’s rather a difference between doing that and having to get up close and personal with someone else’s genitals, isn’t there? We all wipe our own asses after we shit, but that doesn’t mean we do it for other people.” He gave Nie Huaisang a pointed look. “Present company excluded.”

“I was a baby, it doesn’t count,” Nie Huaisang hissed at him. “Never bring it up again.”

Nie Mingjue smirked at him.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes dramatically. “Da-ge, you’re hopeless. One day you’ll find someone you like enough to try it with!”

“Maybe,” Nie Mingjue said. “Maybe not. It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Uh, yes it does! You’re going to have kids, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Nie Mingjue said, hesitating a little. “Huaisang, you’re my heir.”

“I know that! I’m in line until you have kids of your own to inherit…why are you shaking your head?”

“You’re going to inherit after me,” Nie Mingjue said, as gently as he could. “I’m probably not going to have kids, but even if I did, I’d arrange it so that they’d be part of the branch family, not the main line. I want you to inherit.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes were going wide.

No, it was too early to tell him about the saber spirits, Nie Mingjue thought to himself. About their family's horrible temper and his private suspicion that the temper and the qi deviations fed into each other; his conviction that Nie Huaisang would be a better sect leader than him, a better continuation for their line than him, and his determination to make sure that the next generation of Nie sect leaders didn't have to fear a shortened life the way he did. He’d tell him that later, sometime. Today was a good day, there was no point in spoiling it.

“Is that going to be a problem?” he asked instead. “I mean, you have such a wide variety here; don’t tell me you’re solely interested in cut-sleeves…?”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said. “No, I like – everything.”

“Well, then,” Nie Mingjue said. “There should be no problem, then. If you end up with a woman, have some kids; if you end up with a man, take a concubine. Either way, you’ll get an heir.” He frowned. “Assuming you don’t mind –”

“No, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, and he sounded incredibly long-suffering. “I think I’ll manage to have sex, somehow.”

“Well, I mean, if you’re thinking about actually going ahead and trying it out, that’s a whole different conversation we need to have, as opposed to the talk about what it is. You need to be careful about it –”

“Ugh, da-ge, please, no –”

“I’m not going to lecture! Just don’t overdo it or anything. You don’t want to end up with a thousand bastards like Sect Leader Jin –”

“Gross! No!”

“– or with all sorts of diseases –”

“Da-ge!”

“– or with a reputation for being a dissolute or a –”

“I will only have sex with someone I love,” Nie Huaisang announced. “Or at least mildly care for. A nice clean person who likes me back. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“More or less,” Nie Mingjue said, and glanced down at the books. “Say, Huaisang. You know so much about this. Have you ever…”

“Do you have a question?” Nie Huaisang scooted forward. “Ask away, da-ge!”

Nie Mingjue flicked his forehead. “Not a substantive one. But have you ever thought about making your own? You’re a perfectly good artist, and you’re very imaginative; I’m sure you could come up with some scenarios of your own that might be very interesting.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes were wide. “I could, couldn’t I?” he said, marveling, and then suddenly jumped up and dashed over to grab some paper. “Oh, I could! I could – and that – and – and..!”

Nie Mingjue decided to retreat, smiling proudly to himself.

Reading and writing, he thought happily. They’d probably never get a warrior out of Nie Huaisang, but there might be a scholar in him yet!

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring deep in the soul (a katsuki bakugo/reader fic)

Summary: Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. He'd worked hard to achieve his position, his fame. And now it was all going down the damn drain, along with his hearing.

~*~*

Bakugo is suffering from hearing loss as a side effect of his quirk, and he struggles with how to face this new challenge. Enter Reader with a healing quirk.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo/Reader; Katsuki Bakugo/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood & violence. 

A/N: No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.” 

Ao3 Link: Here 

*****A/N Part 2: This post has now been updated to include the links to Ch 2

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here 

Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. Actually, he’d argue he was tied for first place with the current Symbol of Peace, Shitty Deku. Their victory statistics were basically the fucking same, the only difference was the freckled idiot was made of smiles and sunshine and stupid fucking sugar or something. The whole world ate out of his scarred, fucked up hand, and Darling Deku ate up all the media’s attention in return. 

In contrast, Bakugo wasn’t a “people person,” as Deku loved to put it, but… he also wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old brat who got muzzled on live national television. Pro Hero Dynamight was known for his crass, blunt language, his vicious streak of justice when it came to villains, but people also looked up to him. Extras cheered for him in the streets as he exploded past mid-battle. Children ran up to him on patrol and asked him to sign their books, their photos, their Dynamight merch. On one memorable occasion, that he may or may not have saved on his computer, a national news channel ran a live clip from a disaster site, a villain attack turned rescue mission after a building collapsed. The soundbite was only thirty seconds, a close up of a pale, dusty woman with a shallow cut on her brow. The splash of crimson and her bloodshot blue eyes were the only spots of color on her, everything else washed out in white plaster and cement dust, tear tracks carving grooves down her cheeks. 

But the smile on her face could have lit up goddamn Tokyo. 

“Dynamight saved us,” the woman had said to the news reporter, her voice full of awe and tears. “I-I got stuck under some debris, but I heard the moment Dynamight arrived, and I just knew we were safe. The battle was over a minute later, and then he just… pulled me out of the wreckage. He pulled us all out. He’s… the greatest hero I’ve ever seen.” 

That was a nice stroke to his ego. And the dazed woman had been right. He had pulled everyone out of that building, and not a single person died that day, which only confirmed what he already knew: 

Katsuki Bakugo was the best of the best. Deku might have been the better show pony, but Dynamight was an undefeated hero, fierce, fearless, ferocious. 

Except right now… he was fucking scared out of his mind. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

“What?” he snarled at the extra in the white coat standing before him. 

The man flinched and visibly recoiled, shuffling back a step and partially ducking behind his tablet device. When he spoke again, he’d raised his voice an entire fucking octave. 

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” the doctor stammered, but then he seemed to regain his composure and lowered his voice a little. “I… I wish I had better news for you, Dynamight, but…” 

He trailed off and swallowed, the jut of his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the thin skin of his throat. 

“But what?” Bakugo spat, something like magma roiling in his veins, pops of heat crackling against his palms like splatters of hot oil from a stove. 

“B-But this… can’t come as a complete shock to you,” the doctor said as he glanced back at his tablet. “Other physicians before myself must have warned you of the risks.” 

The risks. Bakugo bared his teeth in a silent snarl. What did this fucking extra, with his soft hands and softer body, know about risks? The heat in his palms grew until he could see their red-hot glow out of the corner of his eye. 

“Well, who and how much do I gotta pay to fix it?” Bakugo demanded as he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“That depends,” the doctor hedged and adjusted the square black glasses perched on his stupid face. “There are a variety of aid types—” 

“I don’t want fuckin’ support gear or aids,” Bakugo sneered. “I want mine fixed.” 

Now, the doctor’s face grew pitying. “I’m afraid that’s just not possible, given a number of factors, most importantly your current occupation.” 

“My current occupation?” the hero seethed, teeth bared again like a wounded dog, a cornered wolf, snapping at the world. “Are you fucking KIDDING—” 

A hint of fear sparked in the doctor’s eyes, but he suddenly raised a hand, palm out in the universal symbol for stop. “Dynamight, sir, I know this is distressing, but there are other sick patients in these walls, so please refrain from using your quirk.” 

“I’m not usin’ shit,” Bakugo snapped, but then the doctor’s eyes flicked downward, and Bakugo followed them to his hands, wreathed in sparks and flares of flames, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. 

The breath stuttered in Bakugo’s lungs. 

He hadn’t even felt himself call upon his quirk. 

Even worse… he hadn’t heard it when he did. 

He dropped his hands quickly, shoving them back in his pockets. Bile rose in his throat, but he washed it down with blood as he bit through his tongue. 

“There has to be… something,” he gritted out, curling his hands into fists in their confines. “A healer—” 

“Healers are rarer than you think,” the doctor sighed and shook his head. “And what’s more, they’re usually specific and limited. Their abilities are tied to blood types or restricted to relatives or even limbs. One nurse here can only heal femur bones.” 

“Bullshit they’re rare, I’ve met at least two goddamn healers just this month,” Bakugo spat. “These paramedics—” 

“And how strong where they?” the doctor cut him off again, raising an eyebrow. “You said paramedics, so I’m going to assume their talents mostly lie in the superficial and basic: triage, stopping the bleeding, knitting skin back together, etc.” 

“What’s your fucking point?” He was this close to punching the asshole right in the glasses. 

“My point is the inner workings of your ear are much more delicate than a broken rib or lacerated arm,” the doctor said in a really condescending tone that Bakugo did not appreciate. “But let’s say you do find a healer specific enough and skilled enough to restore the hearing you have already lost without damaging anything else in the process. What then? I don’t imagine Japan’s Number Two Hero retiring less than ten years after his debut and hanging up his quirk.” 

Bakugo scowled, heart kick-starting in his chest, his gut tying itself in a knot. 

No. No, that wasn’t possible. Katsuki Bakugo was a hero, the best of the best. It was all he’d ever wanted, and he would be damned if it was taken from him. 

The doctor must have seen as much on the blond’s face because he sighed and adjusted his glasses again. “Exactly. Which means you’re just going to keep destroying your ears again and again, and even if say Recovery Girl was still alive, the repetitive healing sessions would destroy your own body’s healing factor, and after a while, you would still lose you’re hearing.” 

“Tch.” Bakugo looked away and gritted his teeth so hard they ached. 

The doctor sighed. “You’re already at moderate hearing loss, Dynamight, so while we do still have some options, they are limited. Honestly… I’m surprised you didn’t come in sooner.” 

He should have. He fucking should have. He’d been noticing little things for years, but he just brushed it off, yelled at Deku to speak the fuck up and stop mumbling, told himself his phone must be a piece of shit and that’s why he didn’t hear a call or message. The low persistent ringing he’d been experiencing since UA was harder to write off, but after a while, it was also easier to ignore. 

Then, on his last mission, Bakugo was shoving some weak ass villain at a couple of cops. The battle had lasted less than five minutes, and he was still itching for a fight, his quirk burning just beneath the surface of his skin, like embers waiting to explode back into flame. In the next moment, a hand had suddenly clamped down on his shoulder from behind, and he’d reacted out of reflex, flipping his attacker over his shoulder and nearly blasting them in the gut for good measure. 

“Whoa! Fuck, dude, it’s me!” Kirishima had yelped, his skin rippling and hardening in an instant. Wide, red eyes gaped up at him, and Japan’s Number Three Hero even looked a little worried. “Didn’t you hear me? I called your name like five times.” 

Bakugo had dropped Red Riot like he was on fire. No. No, Dynamight hadn’t heard his patrol partner. In fact, all he could hear in the moment was the muted wailing of sirens, the low murmur of shouting extras, and the blood roaring in his head. 

Now, two days later he was standing in front of a doctor who was telling him there was nothing more they could do. 

But that was fucking unacceptable. He couldn’t lose his hearing. What kind of shitty hero would he be if he couldn’t hear where the villains were in battle or where stupid extras in need of saving were in rescue situations? 

He wouldn’t be a hero at all, just a fucking liability. 

Bakugo tried to imagine having to retire, to hang up his hero costume, to leave Shitty Hair in charge of their joint agency. What would he do? He’d wanted, and planned, to be a hero since he was five years old. He had no other skills, not really. It wasn’t like he could work a damn desk job. Well, UA might throw him a bone, offer him a pity faculty position. 

The thought left a sour taste in his mouth. 

“What… are my options?” he asked haltingly as he snapped his eyes up and locked gazes with the doctor. “You said I still had some.” 

The man in the white coat blinked in surprise, but then he straightened up and tapped at his tablet. “Currently, you have a few options, but you’d receive the best outcome if we did them all together. First, we can get you fitted for some hearing aids for you to wear while you are off duty. They would significantly increase your hearing capacity in your normal day-to-day life.” 

Bakugo felt his face pull into a scowl. “Off duty? I need them while I’m on duty!” 

“If you wear them while using your quirk, you’ll ruin the rest of your hearing in one blow,” the doctor said with a straight face. “Hearing aids amplify sounds. Amplifying your explosions is the last thing we want.” 

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do then?” the hero snapped, heat flaring through his body with a supernova. 

“Since I assume you’re going to continue your hero work, I would recommend contacting a support gear company.” The doctor made a note on his tablet. “We’ll email you the contact information for several companies the hospital has connections with, and once you chose one, we can send them your file. There are numerous noise-cancelling devices out there, but given your situation, you will probably need to collaborate with them for something custom. The goal is to having something to protect your ears-- a helmet, headphones, anything really—while you are using your quirk. Between such a device and the hearing aids, I hope we can preserve what’s left of your hearing and maybe give you a little bit back. But I will warn you… you’re hearing will never be as it was. You should know that now.” 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

You’re hearing will never be as it was. 

The words cycloned through Bakugo’s head, round and round and round, destroying every other thought in their path. He felt detached from himself, the doctor’s voice fizzling out into a muffled drone. His vision seemed to narrow and darken, like he was viewing the world at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. One minute, he was standing there in that examine room, and then he blinked and was on the street, people rushing past him like a river unbothered by the boulder in its current. 

He glanced down at his hand, at the paperwork for his follow up appointment and his fitting for the hearing aids. Heat squirmed under his skin, in his veins, like something living, something that wanted to get out. 

Bakugo bared his teeth, crumpled the paper in his fist, and let the heat rush through his body, down through his arm, and into his hand. He didn’t hear the crackle, but he saw the flares of light, trapped between his palm and the paperwork like fireflies. 

Then he opened his hand, and he watched the wind catch the ash and carry if off down the street, out of sight. 

He needed a fucking drink. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Several hours later, Bakugo stumbled out of his usual dive bar, the taste of whisky still burning a hole through the back of his throat. The night was colder than he anticipated, colder than it should be for the beginning of autumn, and he grumbled and cursed as he hunched against the wind. He squinted at his phone, debating on whether to call a car, but in the end it was too much trouble. He was less than a half an hour’s walk from his apartment, and it was late, so he wouldn’t have to worry about extras coming up to him for photos or goddamn autographs. 

Besides, the whisky hadn’t helped to quench the heat writhing through his veins, in fact the alcohol only made it worse. Bakugo felt restless, all pins and needles and ants, so maybe the brisk walk would burn off some of that energy. 

Decided, Bakugo turned in the direction of home and began the long, stumbling journey through the midnight streets. 

Time passed as sluggishly as his feet, which he made sure to stare down at so he didn’t trip over them. Like he anticipated, he passed no one on the sidewalks, and few cars rumbled past him. It wasn’t surprising, this neighborhood was mostly shops that closed by sundown and a few residences. The dive bar he’d left was a holdover from past decades when this side of town was rougher, but Bakugo suspected the old man who owned the joint would live on for at least another decade, if only to spite the development companies that kept trying to buy him out. The ornery bastard was half the reason Bakugo loved that bar, the other half being their decent whisky and usually empty stools. 

“Shit,” he mumbled as he suddenly slipped, tittering on the edge of the curb. 

He shook his head and managed to regain his balance, but when he took another step, he wobbled again. 

“Come on, you drunk idiot,” he hissed at himself as he stumbled once more. 

Except… he’d been standing still that time. 

“Hah?” Bakugo squinted down at his feet. 

The pebbles around his shoes rattled and jumped. He didn’t think he was that drunk, but he slapped his cheek with a bit of heat to his palm. The snap of warmth and pain woke him up a little, but when he glanced back down at the ground, everything was still moving. 

“What the fu—” 

Then the road undulated under his feet like a living thing, and the shockwave hit him a moment later. 

Bakugo barked a curse as he was bucked several feet into the air, twin explosions blooming from his palms so he could right himself and land on his feet. He snapped his head up as he skidded to a stop, and the breath stilled in his lungs. 

Up ahead, a man stood in the middle of the intersection, staring down the road to Bakugo’s left. Black rubble and goo floated around him like asteroids trapped in a planet’s orbit, and even from a distance, Bakugo could see the crazed smile on the man’s pale, black-streaked face. 

A moment later, several heroes lunged out from around the corner and barreled straight for the villain, only to be blasted backwards as the villain flung out his hands and commanded the black debris and goo to slam into the idiots. 

The villain threw back his head and seemed to laugh maniacally. Bakugo couldn’t hear it, but that didn’t matter. Lava was starting to boil in his veins, burning off the last of the whisky, and Dynamight felt an equally crazed smile stretch across his mouth. 

This idiot had chosen the wrong road to fuck up tonight. 

Heat condensed in his palms like collapsing stars, and then he was exploding forward, the taste of ozone and nitroglycerin on his tongue. 

Within moments, Bakugo was able to determine the villain’s quirk revolved around asphalt. The bastard was able to pull large chunks of it out of the road and then liquify parts of them until they were scalding and sticky. 

The other heroes—whoever they were, Bakugo didn’t even care to check—struggled to evade the villain’s attacks, but evasion wasn’t Dynamight’s style. He came at the bastard head on, exploding every rock and tar puddle in his way. 

Of course, asphalt was flammable, so flames were flaring up all around the street now, but Bakugo wasn’t stupid enough to get burned. If the other heroes were, that was on them. 

Dynamight was here to get the job done. 

“Come here, ya sonvabitch,” Bakugo snarled as he blasted apart a chunk of asphalt aimed for his head. 

The villain shrieked out something high-pitched that Bakugo didn’t catch, and then the fucker was swinging out his arm, a blob of black tar following the arc. 

Bakugo let out a controlled burst toward his feet and backflipped through the air, crunching down on the roof of a parked car. He could see some of the other heroes waving at him from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying over the wailing of the car alarm below him. 

The villain’s sneer was a white slash on his black, goo-streaked face, and Bakugo bared his teeth back in an expression halfway between a feral grin and a beast’s snarl. He could feel the heat crackling along his palms as he contemplated his next move, but then the villain shouted something, and all the asphalt floating in the air rocketed back towards him like the fucker was a magnet. 

As Bakugo watched, the debris and goo coalesced into a singular shape, liquifying and hardening in turns until a giant black arm the size of a semi was hovering over the road. The fingers wiggled in a jaunty little wave as the villain shouted something again that was lost to the car’s still wailing alarm, and then the giant hand curled into a fist and dropped down on Bakugo like the hammer of some god. 

He exploded out of the way and up into the air right before the fist smashed into the car he’d been standing on, and the siren cut out with a muffled crunch. 

Bakugo had barely landed before the arm was shooting out again, but this time it wasn’t aimed for him. 

A stupid fucking extra had stumbled out of one of the buildings and stood gaping like a goddamn moron on the sidewalk. Several of the on-scene heroes rushed forward, but the hand swatted them aside like annoying flies. The idiot civilian was still just standing there, though, and Bakugo found himself airborne before he could even process the thought. 

“Run!” he roared as he reached the extra and shoved him out of the way, but an instant later, he felt stony fingers wrap around his torso and squeeze. 

Bakugo wheezed out a curse as the giant hand lifted him into the sky, the pressure around his ribs increasing with every second. The asphalt was hot in some places, too, scalding the skin of his left arm where it was pinned against his hip. He wrenched his right arm around and tried to aim at the wrist of the asphalt appendage, but the angle was off, and the few chunks he was able to blast were quickly replaced by more rubble and boiling tar. 

“Fuck!” Bakugo screamed as the fist clenched down around him. His ribs strained, his lungs unable to expand, pain licking at him like the flames flickering in his peripherals. 

Distantly, he heard the villain’s laughter below him, and as the arm swayed to the side, Bakugo realized he was right above the bastard. His vision swam, his ribs screaming, his arm burning, but Bakugo gritted his teeth as he aimed his right palm down. He concentrated every ounce of his quirk into his hand until it glowed white-hot, and the asphalt around him began to liquefy again. 

The villain’s eyes widened as he realized what the hero was doing, and the fucker wildly swung out his arm in a last-ditch effort. The giant asphalt limb responded in kind, but Bakugo unleashed his quirk right before the arm flung him through the air. 

A massive explosion rocked the street an instant later, and the subsequent shockwave slammed into his back and propelled him through a window. 

He felt the impact and pain as he struck the glass, and then… 

Nothing. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ouch, fuck!” you cursed as your pricked yourself for the millionth time. 

A red drop of blood beaded up on the pad of your index finger, and you scowled before you sucked the smarting appendage into your mouth. It was more of a reflex than anything, since by the time you pulled your finger out, the pinprick of a wound was already healed. Healing such a small injury would usually barely even register to you, but the clock above your desk was inching closer and closer to midnight, and you’d been up since 6am. You also skipped dinner so you could finish altering the dress you were currently working on, which didn’t help your energy levels, but you were just a few stitches away from completing your task, so you hunched back over and powered through the next five minutes. 

When you were finally done, you sat back in your chair with a sigh and threw down your needle and thread. The sewing table before you swam and doubled as your vision struggled to focus on something, and you rubbed at your tired, burning eyes. You always tried to work reasonable hours, have a healthy work-life balance, but somehow you always found yourself slaving away into the dark hours of the night. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your fault. You’d lived here less than a year, so you didn’t know many people beyond your few neighbors and the old ladies who frequented your alterations shop. 

You were also trying very hard to keep your grandparents’ business afloat. 

Your grandfather had been a tailor, your grandmother a seamstress. They’d opened a shop together over fifty years ago, and if your parents hadn’t moved to America before you were born, you were sure you father would have taken over the family business. In the end, though, after your grandparents passed, you were the one to take up the needle and pull up your roots. You’d always loved making your own clothes, and you’d always felt… disconnected in America. Nothing had ever felt… right, no matter how many jobs you hopped around to. The US had been the only home you’d ever known, but when you and your parents spoke Japanese together, it had made something ache deep in the center of you, something you couldn’t name or place. 

So, when your father said he was taking a trip to the homeland to sell his parents’ shop, you’d gone with him and somehow convinced him to sign everything over to you. Which was more than just a little insane. Your prior work history had been in food service and clothing retail, and your degree was in linguistics for fuck’s sake. You had no idea how to run a business, let alone in another country. Thankfully, you spoke Japanese fluently, so that had been one less hurtle to overcome, but everything else had been a dramatic learning curve. Getting to know the new city, figuring out the currency, hell even navigating the vastly different social norms of Japanese culture was daunting, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t have numerous fumbles along the way. 

It, everything, had definitely taken some getting used to. 

Now, a year later, things were just starting to really look up. You had used most of the money your grandparents left you to renovate the shop, get new equipment, and fix the upstairs apartment you lived in. About two dozen loyal customers helped to pay your bills and keep you afloat, and one-to-two new customers walked into your shop each month just on word of mouth. You weren’t rich by any means, but you weren’t struggling like you did in America. You felt… happy here, if a little tired. Fulfilled. 

That might also have had something to do with your little… side business. 

You bit your lip as your eyes shot to your window guiltily, like someone was watching you. You weren’t doing anything wrong—right now, anyways—but for the last six months, it’s been hard to shake off your paranoia. 

And your guilt. Which was ridiculous. You weren’t hurting anyone. In fact, you were doing the exact opposite. 

But it was still against the law. Here in Japan, at least. 

That was another thing that took some getting used to. The Japanese government had strict laws on quirk usage, unlike in America where everything was about individualistic rights. In Japan, only heroes were given almost free reign, but even they had some restrictions on when and how they could use their powers. 

For the rest of the Japanese populace, using quirks in day-to-day life, without official permission, was frowned upon at best and illegal at worst. 

Because of your specific quirk, you leaned more toward the illegal side of things. 

Healing quirks were rare. That’s what you’d been told all your life. Your mother’s quirk was the ability to lower fevers by somehow using her own body to regulate the temperature. Nothing super special or powerful, but she’d gone on to become a pediatric nurse, so she had used her quirk to its fullest and made a long, happy career for herself. 

When you were young and your quirk manifested, you thought you would follow in your mother’s footsteps. 

But as a teenager, you’d come to some hard realizations about yourself. 

One, you weren’t strong enough to be a hero. You’d tried to get into a hero course in the States, several in fact. One course rejected you solely on your application, and then you failed two entrance exams. It had been a devastating blow to your youthful dreams and self-esteem, but your mother encouraged you, said being a hero wasn’t the only way to use your quirk for good. 

So, you turned your focus to medicine… and quickly discovered that wasn’t right for you, either. Your mother hated when you said this but… you just weren’t smart enough. You had tried, really did, but everything was such a struggle, like Sisyphus slogging uphill through the mud. It just didn’t click for you like it did for your mom. You also hated to admit it, but you were a little squeamish. You were fine with small stuff, cuts and bruises, broken fingers, but once you had to dissect a large pig in an anatomy class, and the smell and weight of the pig’s slippery organs in your hands made your lunch rise up into the back of your throat. You somehow managed to make it through the class, but directly after you ran to the bathroom and emptied your own guts into the toilet. 

With your dreams of being a hero and doctor dashed, you’d been a little aimless in college, taking random courses to fill your time and see if anything spoke to you. Then, during an 8am linguistics lecture you signed up for on a whim, something ignited inside you. Languages spoke to you like science and medicine never did. So, you’d changed your major to linguistics, minored in Japanese to feel closer to your parents, and took ever other language credit you could get your hands on. In between classes, you’d taken up sewing again while you listened to your audio assignments. It was just something to keep your hands busy at first, a skill your father taught you as a child until you abandoned it, but then your roommates complimented your work and started asking you to hem their jeans or take in their skirts. They offered to pay you, but you always declined, saying it was no trouble, you liked the work, and you liked being able to help. 

At some point, you realized that was all you had ever wanted to do. Help people. And if you couldn’t save them as a hero, you would find some other way to make yourself useful. 

So, you studied languages in the hopes of being able to help others communicate. You altered your friends’ clothes and made them small things like a monogrammed scarf or mittens. And, occasionally, you healed your roommates’ hangovers or food poisoning, stopped the bleeding when they cut their fingers making dinner, pushing through their pain to make them whole again. It wasn’t a lot, nothing really, but it was something, and it made you feel purposeful. 

When you moved to Japan, you mourned the loss of being able to use your quirk on others, but you shoved the thought aside and focused on your work and the shop and figuring out how to settle down in your first home on your own. 

Then, six months after you took over the shop, Mrs. Kojima, a little old lady in her seventies, had brought in her grandchildren’s uniforms to be patched and altered. She’d known your grandparents for many years, so she was always kind and had a story to share with you about your father in his youth or the gorgeous dresses your grandmother used to make. You always looked forward to Mrs. Kojima’s visits, and she always had a way of making you feel younger than you were, but not in a bad way. She just made you feel… nostalgic and safe, like you were listening to your late grandma talk over the phone. 

This was probably why, when Mrs. Kojima slipped and fell in front of your counter, you reacted without thinking. The old lady barely had time to hit the floor and cry out before you were hovering over her, a green aura illuminating your hands. Her pain hit you a moment later, like a heated slap to the face, a bone-deep ache in your leg, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through the discomfort. Then you moved your fingers over to the hip Mrs. Kojima was clutching, and a moment later you felt the drain as your energy siphoned into the elderly woman’s body. Thankfully, it had only been a fracture, not a full break, so you barely even felt the difference in your strength, but as Mrs. Kojima gaped up at you, realization struck you like a freight train. 

You had used your quirk, without a license, without permission, hell without the consent of Mrs. Kojima. Healing quirks were illegal for a reason, so many things could go wrong, and you weren’t properly trained. Your breathing hitched as panic seized your heart, squeezing like a vise, and your entire world had just begun to crash down around your ears when Mrs. Kojima sat up and threw her arms around you. 

“Thank you,” she’d sniffled into your hair in Japanese. “Thank you so much.” 

After the initial shock wore off, you had helped Mrs. Kojima into a chair, and she’d continued to thank you over and over again, saying how money was tight and she would have hated to be a burden to her children with hospital bills and a long recovery. She talked about how a lot of her elderly friends were in similar positions, dealing with perpetual aches and pains but having no way to pay for treatment or seek relief. 

The sadness in her face had twisted something in your chest, an ache you were all too familiar with. It was the one you felt after you failed the hero course entrance exams. The ache you felt when you realized you could never be a doctor. The ache of being helpless in the face of suffering. 

Your mouth had opened without your permission, and you told Mrs. Kojima that you would help her, and her friends, whenever they needed it. The elderly Japanese woman tried to wave you off, saying she didn’t want to get you in any trouble, but you had just smiled and said, “I’m fine with making a little good trouble.” 

You didn’t know where your courage had come from, but you let it carry you past your fears and doubts. 

So, for the last six months, Mrs. Kojima had brought all of her friends, and sometimes their children and grandchildren, to you when they were in need of healing. They always brought dresses or pants or blouses for you to fix as a cover, and you did do alterations work for them, but you also eased flaring arthritis, cataracts, fevers, and scrapped knees in the backroom. You refused to take payment for these secret services, it just felt wrong, but the little old ladies somehow always snuck large “tips” into your register when you weren’t looking. 

Mrs. Kojima and every one of her friends and family members swore to their ancestors to keep your secret, and you trusted them, but you still couldn’t help proverbially looking over your shoulder, holding your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the police to barge in and take you away. 

It hadn’t happened yet, but the worry of it kept you up most nights, which was maybe another reason why you threw yourself into your work until you were so tired you just passed out. 

You sighed again as you stretched and felt your back pop, releasing some of the tension in your spine. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was just past midnight, and you winced. You had to be up at five tomorrow—today, now—because Mr. Akane wanted to come in early before you opened the shop. His bad knee was giving him trouble again, an old injury he’d obtained as a boy. You were unable to fully reconstruct the joint—that took more strength and stamina than you currently possessed—but you were able to soothe his pain for weeks at a time, which he was immensely grateful for. He always brought you fresh fish when he came by, “gifts” he’d emphasized when you reminded him you didn’t take payment, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t appreciate the gesture. You weren’t exactly hurting for money, but you also didn’t normally splurge on fish caught just that morning, and you told yourself you deserved the small treat. Besides, the protein helped boost your energy and stamina levels, which meant you could heal more people, so really Mr. Akane was merely investing in his future treatments. 

Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and you dragged yourself out of your chair before picking your way across your messy apartment to the kitchen. The apartment wasn’t very large, one large space for kitchen, dining, and living room, with one small bedroom and one bathroom down a hallway to the right when you walked in the front door. But it had been your grandparent’s home for many years before they bought a larger house after having your father, and it sat right above the shop, so you never had to worry about running late for work.

Bolts of fabric, some client pieces, and a few of your own personal sewing projects were strewn over every available surface of the main room, but you had the cleared path through the chaos memorized, so you were tossing leftovers in the microwave barely thirty seconds later. The warmed-up curry and rice—another “gift” from Mrs. Kojima—tasted as good as it had the last several days, and you hummed as the spiced meat slid down your throat and settled in your belly. After the first bite, your hunger seemed to hit you in full force, and you scarfed down every last bite in a matter of minutes. When you were done, the minor headache that had been pulsing behind your eyes abated, and you yawned as you rinsed off the dishes. 

You set the damp plate on the edge of the counter as you reached for a towel, but then a sudden tremor, followed by a loud boom, seemed to shake the building, and the plate tittered on the counter’s edge for a moment before it crashed to the floor. 

“Fuck!” you gasped as you jumped back and away from the ceramic shards, but another tremor-boom combo had you stumbling, and you scrambled to grab the back of the couch so you didn’t fall on your ass. 

Your wide eyes took in the broken plate scattered at your feet before they jumped to the window on the opposite side of the room. The night sky was dark beyond, cut only by the dim street light just beyond the window’s view. You held your breath as your heart hammered in your ears, the hair on the back of your neck prickling, sweat slicking your palms. 

What the fuck was that? Your first thought was earthquake—you hadn’t experienced one yet, but you knew they were common in Japan—but then you remembered the booms. 

Maybe… maybe an electrical box blew? But no, the lights were still working. A car crash? 

Then another boom vibrated you down to your very bones, and you fell to one knee as the breath hitched in your lungs. 

That sounded… closer. 

With your heart in your throat, you half scrambled, half crawled the last few feet to your window, and you peeked your head over the sill just as a flash off white-hot light lit up the night sky. 

“Shit!” You squinted your eyes against the glare as you leaned back from the window, but then you saw a shadow streak through the air before it crashed into a car just at the edge of your peripherals. 

You had the distant thought that Mr. Takeyoshi’s vehicle was very obviously totaled before you realized the thing that had crashed into the car was a person. 

Your jaw gaped open as a hero pulled himself from the wreckage and shook his head groggily. The shadows—only broken by more flares of light as more explosions and fire seemed to erupt along the street—made it difficult to tell how injured the hero was. You didn’t recognize their yellow and teal costume, but you saw patches of blood along the hero’s bulky frame, and bile burned at the back of your teeth. 

Holy shit. This wasn’t an accident. It was a villain attack. 

Just as you had the thought, another explosion rattled your windows, making your ears ring, and you snapped your head to the side to see a man standing in the middle of the road about half a block down. 

The man—villain, you realized quickly—swung his arms around like a conductor of an orchestra, but his instruments seemed to be the black rocks and liquid swirling around him. The debris glistened like an oil slick in the light of the flames, and as you watched, the villain shouted something and slashed his arm through the air. 

Then a figure suddenly exploded onto the scene, lunging out from the shadows in a flare of white-hot light. It moved too fast for you to track, but the villain swung his arm again, and rocks and viscous black goo shot toward the figure still in mid-air. 

A futile scream of warning caught in your throat, but then the figure seemed to explode and backflip through the air, landing on his feet but crushing the roof of a car beneath his boots. The wailing of the car’s alarm split the air, and you clenched your teeth until they ached. 

The flames illuminated this new man’s face, a snarl of white teeth against the flames and smoke, but only the barest hint of recognition flared through you before everything exploded into chaos again. Another shout from the villain had all the rocks and black slime streaking back towards him, and you watched in horror as a stony black arm fifty feet long formed above the ruined street. 

You knew you should be running, trying to find cover, calling the police, but you were glued there, on your knees before the window, you fingers digging grooves into the sill. 

The next fifteen seconds seemed to simultaneously happen in slow motion and at hyper speed. 

The giant rocky hand wiggled its fingers before it curled into a fist and slammed down on the wailing car and the man atop it. 

The man—hero, you distantly thought, although your chaotic thoughts still couldn’t place him—launched up into the air with another explosion that rattled your windows, the car alarm cutting off as the vehicle was crushed an instant later. 

The blond skidded into a landing half a dozen yards away, but then you suddenly saw Mr. Takeyoshi standing on the street, a ghostly apparition framed by smoke and flames. 

You blinked, and the giant hand shot toward Mr. Takeyoshi, batting away several more heroes who tried to intervene. 

Then the explosive hero was just there, pushing Mr. Takeyoshi out of the way, right before the hand wrapped around him. 

You could hear the hero’s anguished scream through your window as he was crushed in the fist’s grip, and the sound hit you right in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of you, bruising your insides, the pain settling into the familiar ache of being helpless in the face of suffering. 

You watched uselessly as the hero was lifted up into the sky, struggling, setting off explosions left and right. Then the massive arm seemed to pause in the middle of the road, right above the villain, and your eyes locked onto the hero, his pale hair and skin stark against the black, rocky hand that held him trapped. 

In the next instant, a white light, like a star going supernova, bloomed to life around the hero, illuminating the white slash of his snarling teeth before it became too bright for you to take. You slammed your eyes shut against the burning light, and the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, like the moment before lightning struck, as you dropped to the floor below your window. 

Then the world exploded, the building shaking to its foundations, right before the window burst into a million shards of glass.

[divinefireangel]

Hey there!!! Can you please write a smut on SF9 finding out their partner reading smuts 🥺🌝 (I want to see how dirty they can go🌝) And if you don't want to write for all of them then maybe you can just do it for any member you're comfortable to write on. Literally, ANY MEMBER WOULD WORK. I really want to read something like this haha🤭

Also, I genuinely love your writings! I'm new to Tumblr but I'm literally binge reading your posts. Gosh you're talented as fuck😫💗✨

Lots of love, and thank youuuu💕

OMG YES YES YES YES

TMI: Not gonna lie, I was thinking about this when my mom came into my room to talk to me, and my recent story was literally right there just open and I was panicking. Although she doesn't know anything 💀. She's cute like that, my mom.

You are so sweet anon 🥺🥺. Go on make me cry with your lovely words 😭. I will try my best to write more and sorry this took so long 💞💖 LOVE YOU 💓

S/O reads Smuts 🤭

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 18+ ages and all readers (nothing specified with respect to gender, appearance, etc of reader). Rough sex (YB). Thigh riding (IS). Dick riding (JY). Marking. Biting. Humping. Dining table sex (DW). Low key strength kink? Idk (RW). Biting using teeth (ZH). Exhibitionism. Terrace sex (TY). Slight voyeurism. Oral - reader receiving (HY). Somehow I end up writing the filthiest things for Hwi. Cockwarming to sex (CH). It's really difficult to think of 9 different things for 9 different people😤. Also some may be unprotected sex, don't do it unless you want kids. Lmk if I need to add more!

Word Count: HAH jokes 😂

All members under the cut!

Youngbin

Doesn't understand at first 💀

But he isn't scared to ask so he'll just ask you

The panic on your face makes him panic

Apologizes 🥺

Then you explain that it's no big deal and that it's just a story

But he saw his name 💀💀💀

So he's curious and so he does research aka Googles it

Has a mixed reaction, doesn't know what to think

On one hand, he's flattered...?

Like, oh sweet, you are reading a story about him probably railing you to death

On the other hand, why are you reading it?

Did he not satisfy you enough? Should he do more? He wants to

So he will pick a random one, read it and be like, Okay. This is how it's gonna play tonight

So determined 🥺

Picks you up for your date and stuff

Timeskip to the bedroom by a steamed dumpling Dawon

So touchy and observant

Tries his best to remember what was in the story

Forgets but that's okay tho cause now he knows what you want

More Dom than usual

More vocal than usual

His grip on your skin leaves so many bruises and literal fingerprint shaped marks

Bites your neck a lot

Doesn't hold back one bit

Secretly satisfies his wishes too

Teases you for being so ready

Teases you for every reaction

Pulls your hair

Overstimulates you

Until you're tired and can't take it anymore

He could go for a round more

So he does

It's also like, he's lowkey angry at himself cause you were reading smut which made him think, maybe you thought he was too vanilla

But after you've both cooled down you ask him what happened and why he was so rough, not that you had a problem

Expresses his concerns and you tell him that you read those only cause you wanted to know what the fandom thinks of him and the way they think he likes to have sex

Blushy babyyyy

So cute 🥺

Inseong

Bro

Do I even need to 😂

He's probably written a few 💀

He seems like he's into roleplay 👀

So when he does find a tab open on your phone about literal PORN, in words

He doesn't think much of it tbh

But is curious

He'll tease you like you are both high schoolers

Holds you phone up high so you can't reach it

Satisfied when you whine and pout

Tucks your phone in his back pocket and grabs your face

" I think it's hot "

Peck's your lips and slaps your butt leaving you wide eyed

You need a minute to process what just happened lol

Running after him you pull him down on the couch, sitting on hids lap

Bite you lip and grab his face pls

Now he's wide eyed 😂

Kiss his neck and talk to him sexily

" Do you really like that I read smut? "

You look so innocent he would cum right there

Poor man is dumbfolded

So much that he doesn't even realize you were grinding down on his thigh the whole while

Grabbing your hips he nudges your hips to continue their movement

Loves having you so close

Especially after discovering your secret

Suck him off after and he'll do any and everything for you 😉

Jaeyoon

Oo this one is fun

He won't confront you immediately

He'll just think about it a lot

" How are they so cute when they read such things for fun? "

Stares at you from across the room

Smirks at your cute smiles

Timeskip this time by Baek Huru

Surprises you by kissing your neck

Humps your butt

Pecks you neck

Rolls your nipples in his fingers

Moans in your ear, deeply and hoarsely

Pulls away dragging you to the bed

Sits near the headboard

Beckons you to come closer and naked 👀

Forces your dick in you, slowly tho, don't worry

Doesn't give you a lot of time to react

But, all this seems familiar

Then you realize that he's trying to recreate the imagine you were reading before

The whole idea made you hot

Istg you've never finished so soon

He tells you that you don't need to read those stories when you have the real deal right there

Sanghyuk

Smug bastard

He's happy that you're thinking and reading about him even when he isn't with you

He will actually read the warnings and is mildly surprised lol

Wow you really into all that?

He has no shame so he will ask you directly

You stop doing what you're doing and just slowly turn towards him

He's scared lmao

Then explains himself and says sorry

Tbh, you're more shocked that he isn't angry

Blinking you slowly make him sit on the dining table chair

Pacing you start to think of and explanation now

Is there any explanation for reading smut? Idk 😂

Honestly, he asked you so that you could actually do what the warnings said in real life

Gets up, takes your hand pulling you close and lifts you, making you sit on the dining table

Removes his shirt before kissing you intensely

Tells you that he wants to fuck you on the table like in the smut

Nodding you let him take over

Makes you cum twice easily

It's more romantic than rough

Passionate, very passionate

Kisses you a lot

Hands on you all over you

Pulls you closer and closer by your thighs

Lays you down and fucks you till your back is no where on the table

Sweet reassuring smooches when you're done

Tells you to talk to him about such ideas rather than just reading them

Seokwoo

He is shocked™

Listen okay

He's tall

He's scared that he'll hurt you if he does what he wants without thinking

Reads multiple smuts 💀

Only the ones you've liked so far tho

Fuckin uses your account so yeah obviously

Now he'll be ready to talk to you about it

So shy omg

Stutters words out cause he's so flustered

You need to read his mind, literally

Once, somehow you are finally clear about what he was talking about

You'd just laugh at his cuteness

Boy is confused ??

Pushing him down on the bed you climb on top of him

Yes climb

Needy but still shy and shocked

Wastes no time in getting naked

Allows you to do whatever you want to him

No, really

Let's you take charge that is only until you tease him

Flips you and thrusts into you so hard the bed is shaking and you feel like it might break

Strong grips on your thighs and hips and belly and arms

Definitely sore for a few many days 💀

Juho

I'm not sure tbh

Either he won't care at all like

" Oh yeah this is just their thing "

Or he'd be so into it like hed wonder why you were reading it, was it for ideas?

He already has those so you don't need them from someone else

He won't ask you about it tho

But you will bring up an idea that was in one of them

And he's down

Or up, whichever you want

Asks you what you want more times than usual

But it doesn't make sense cause you're literally going crazy with the way his cock feels inside you and he asks you what you want?

Starts moving before you answer

Asks you again and again till all you can say out loud is " More "

He's fine with that answer

Hands above your head

Teeth scraping your the front of your throat drawing so many sounds from you

He's driving his dick in you so fast that you're moving away from him

Praises you with his deep ass voice

Gives you his Vampire stare™

That's all you need to cum undone

Keeps it a secret, won't ask you unless you bring up your little extracurricular activity 😌

Yoo Taeyang

SHY BABYYYYY

So pink when he realizes what you're reading lol

But he's so mesmerised that he goes on reading it 😂

You catch him looking at your phone, no big deal

But he's looking at it as though he saw a ghost

He's turned on but at the same time he's appalled

Do people see him like that? Do you want him to be that?

He's gonna need a lot of time to process the information

When you reassure him that he doesn't need to change anything at all, he's more calm then

But on a fine ass blue moon, his fine ass is gonna decide that he's gonna try something new

So there you are, on the terrace talking to someone on the phone. After ending the call he'll come and hug you from behind

It's all aww so cute till you feel his dick press into your butt

Forces your head back to rest on hius shoulder slowly but hotly

Unbuttons your jeans and pulls them down in one swift motion and his hands are all over you

Somehow the idea of having sex in the open night sky is so exciting

Stops just before you reach your high so that he can fuck you

You're leaning on the terrace wall

Face pressed slightly on it as your butt sticks out for him

Giving him permission to do anything to you

The orgasm hits you so fast but it's so fulfilling 🤤

And your pants are being pulled up even faster 💀

Maybe you should leave smut laying around

Youngkyun

You've found the saucuest lil smut about your boyfriend

He's sitting at the table, on his laptop composing and writing songs while you are here on the bed, blanket over your legs

Now see, you aren't really one to get off of smut but this particular one was so realistic

The description

The reaction

The dialogues

Reading it made you body move on instinct

Lower lip getting stck in your teeth

Hand travelling down to your privates

Your hips thrusting forward into your hand and fingers

Your breathy moans, that you tried your best to stick to, were louyd enough for him to hear

At first he thought you were doing a breathing practice or something

That is until he recognized the pattern

Lifting his blank phone up, he moved it to look at you through it

Boy is so shocked

It's like his own private porn show

Placing it back on the table gently, he moves the blanket slowly, getting under it

Licking his lips, he tucks his tongue out, licking the area that your fingers just slid over

Gasping at the sudden feeling you drop your phone and move your blanket off

You inevitably moan at the sinful sight below you

Your lovely boyfriend, looking up at you through his lashes, tongue coated with his saliva and your leaking juices

Holding your wrist, he nudges you to continue what you were doing, with his tongue never leaving you

Gripping your thighs, he bites your inner thigh as you work yourself closer to your high

After you cum, he'll lick off all your juices

Then he'll be all sweet asking you what you were reading

Round 2? 😉

Chanhee

He'll find it funny 💀

Why do people write these things

Why do people read these things

What is the use?

He is partly curious lol

When you tell him it stimulates the necessary regions, boy is shook

Then he's like nah

So you make him read one

He can't even make it halfway through lol

The foreplay itself made him hard enough to want you and to want to be in you

Grabs the phone and sits next to you

" I'm hard "

You look at him like boy what

Then he tell you that he now understood why people read them and that he's happy that people read them too help themselves

And you're like okay and what's the point

Pulls you on his lap

Whines at the feeling of to your butt on his arousal

Makes you stand now lol

Pulls his pants to his thighs and even yours

Places himself in you so that now when you sit on his lap again, not only is your back to his chest

Also his dick is in you

Somehow finishes the rest of the fic and just thrusts up into you

Cause you feel so heavently around him

Goes on and on and on till you're bouncing on his lap

Cums in you and just stays there till you finish your work

Still has mixed feeling now tho

Cause if reads them he wants you to be there near him and he wants to read more cause these fics are very addicting

[andvys]

Longing (part 17)

Warnings: angst, self destructive behavior, kinda self harm, kinda dark!reader

Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader

Author’s note: this took me way too long and it’s kinda rushed and not the best one I've written but I promise the next one will be better.

Opening your eyes slowly, you patted the spot next to you to find it empty, Ellie must've gotten up already. You noticed how tired and exhausted you were despite hours of sleeping. These past few weeks have really taken a toll on you and your health. Your body was full of scars and bruises and not just physically. Pain shot through your shoulder when you tried to get up, groaning you clutched your shoulder and fell back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling your thoughts drifted off to last night.

This has by far been the worst day since Joel’s death and you didn't even know what the worst part about it was. Torturing and killing Nora or fighting Abby and getting your ass kicked by her. You planned on killing her and yet you failed.

You were angry at yourself, you almost died yesterday and not just once and you only survived because of that boy. He prevented you from getting killed on the streets and he prevented you from getting killed by Abby, twice. You were getting weak and that was the last thing you needed right now, you had to stay strong in order to kill Abby, otherwise it wouldn't be her getting killed but you or even worse Ellie and Jesse and you would never let that happen.

Getting up, you ignored the pain in your shoulder and started to put on the clothes that Ellie laid out for you, you didn't even know where she got them from but you were thankful for not having to wear your bloody and dirty clothes again. Tying the laces on your boots you got up to find your reflection staring back at you through the large mirror.

Walking closer you almost gasped at the sight of yourself. Abby has done a good job on you, you were covered in bruises and new cuts that would surely leave scars. Your lip was busted and your throat was covered in dark purple and blue bruises. As if the big guy hadn't done enough, Abby had to leave marks of her own around your throat. You were surprised that you could still talk.

How could you let it get this far? No one has ever managed to cover you in so many bruises and you fought people twice Abby’s size before. You didn't even know who you were more angry at, Abby or yourself?

She was the one who put you in this state but you were the one that you let her. You let her beat you, you let her be stronger than you. You were so blinded by anger and rage that you didn't turn your logic on when you were fighting her, you just attacked her without thinking first. 

You were so incredibly angry at yourself. Your father would've laughed at you. 

‘how are you gonna survive in this world when you can't even defend yourself?’

Shaking your head you tried to get his voice out of your head but it kept repeating itself. You felt tears well up in your eyes, your breathing got heavier by the second and you couldn't stand looking at yourself anymore.

Balling your hand up into a fist, you punched into the mirror, breaking it, you sliced your skin open in the process but you didn't even feel it, you were consumed by anger. You just kept punching it until your hand was covered in blood.

Ellie was sitting in one of the seats, playing guitar when she heard the sound of glass shattering coming from the room you were in. Immediately she put the guitar down and rushed over to you, right when she was about to open the door, it was already pulled open by you. 

Startled at the sight of her standing there you jumped back slightly, blinking a couple of times, you went to move past her but she didn't let you. She looked at you in shock, her eyes drifted down to your bloody hand. She didn't know what to say, she could tell this wasn't an accident by the way you avoided looking into her eyes. 

“(Y/n)..” she whispered, with a shocked expression on her face.

“I’m fine, Ellie.” you mumbled, looking down.

“No you're not, give me your hand.” she said, grabbing your hand to examine the cuts. You didn't want her to see you like this but you knew there was no way that she would just let you walk away like this and you couldn't resist her puppy eyes anyways. “Alright, luckily there is no glass stuck in your skin.”

Pushing you back into the room she told you to sit on the bed while she went to grab some supplies.

“Okay, found some stuff..” she said, walking back into the room, glancing at the broken mirror briefly before she sat down next to you. Grabbing your hand gently, she started cleaning the blood off your hand.

You didn't even wince when she started disinfecting the wound with alcohol, too deep in thought to feel the pain. Ellie noticed that and eyed you worriedly. 

“Alright all done.” she said, grabbing your hand so you wouldn't try to leave again “babe?” 

Looking down, you didn't want her to look at your face, you looked broken and you knew it, you were supposed to look strong and not like some weak kid. 

“Babe look at me, please.” she pleaded, squeezing your hand. 

Taking a deep breath, you looked up at her, noticing the sad and worried look she had on her face. “I’m here, you can talk to me you know that right?” 

“I know.” you whispered. 

“I don't want to lose you (y/n).” she said, moving closer to you, she brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, looking at you with sad eyes.

Feeling your heart squeeze in your chest at her words you pulled her into a hug. “You won't lose me Ellie. I promise.” you said, holding her tightly.

She held onto you tightly, not wanting to let you go. She was so worried when you were out there all alone. She hated to think about you being in danger and she hated it even more that you were hurt and almost killed out there. She wanted to tell you to just stay here while she finished it but she knew there was no stopping you from going after Abby and you would never sit back while Ellie was out there on her own.

Pulling away you noticed the worried look in your lovers eyes, your gaze immediately softened “Ellie, I promise you that you won't lose me, I’ll be with for as long as I’m alive.” you said, pecking her lips softly. “We lost too much time with each other already don't you think?” you asked her.

She nodded her head, a sad smile tugging on her lips.

“Well it was kinda my fault..” you admitted ‘as always’ you thought to yourself.

“Hey we’re together now, that's all that matters.” Ellie said, bringing your hand up to her lips, kissing it softly. 

Your heart jumped at her saying you were together. 

“Together..” you trailed off “does that mean I can call you my girlfriend now?” you asked shyly 

Ellie’s eyes widened at your question, her heartbeat got increasingly faster. Never in a million years would she have though that you'd be the one asking her to be your girlfriend. She always guessed that she would be the one asking you that question. 

“I- of course, fuck.. of you can call me your girlfriend.. I mean I- always wanted to call you my girlfriend but- alright I will stop rambling now..” Ellie mumbled the last part. 

Smiling slightly at her, you leaned and kissed her lips softly, she grabbed your face and pulled you closer, kissing you back.

You probably didn't deserve her but you couldn't resister her, she made you feel alive, she made you feel safe and at home. Her touch was able to make you forget every worry that you had, she was able to calm you down even in times like this, she was like an anchor for you. 

Pulling away from the kiss, you looked into her eyes and all you could find there was love and adoration for you. 

“Come on, we have to discuss a few things.” you said, getting up, you grabbed your backpack and your swords. 

“Yeah hold on.” she said, grabbing your hand she turned you around and pulled you in again, kissing you one more time before you both had to go out there again.

Grabbing her waist, you pulled her closer, kissing her back.

“Hey sleepyheads I- oh my god... not again!” Jesse came bursting into the room and immediately left and closed the door again. 

Pulling away from her you furrowed your brows “what a dumbass” you said shaking your head. Ellie chuckled at you “He’ll never learn how to knock.” Ellie mumbled. 

“Yeah.. alright let’s go.” 

After you explained everything Nora told you about why they were after Joel you discussed the route to the Aquarium and were finally on the way there. It was raining and you could her the faint rumbling of thunder from afar. Ellie and Jesse were behind you, talking about Dina and the baby. You weren't in the mood to talk so you just walked ahead of them, keeping an eye out for infected or worse, people. 

You came to the conclusion that people were worse than infected. At least they couldn't help attacking you, it was their nature but people, they have the choice and yet they still do horrible things. Not that you were any different but at least you weren't enjoying this.

Perking up at the sound of voices coming from somewhere up ahead, you looked back at Ellie and Jesse motioning for them to hide. You ran behind a car, next to Ellie, pulling out your gun, you didn't even hesitate when you started shooting at them, the second you saw them. Ellie looked at you in surprise, this wasn't like you, you usually counted the enemies before jumping straight in to the line of fire.

She jumped up and started shooting at them too, killing one of them just in time before he went to pull the trigger of the gun that was pointed at your head. Jesse was shooting at them from the side.

They were quickly dealt with, you went to one of the soldiers and grabbed his rifle and his handgun.

Ellie and Jesse glanced at each other in worry.

“What the hell was that (y/n)?” Ellie asked with an accusing tone.

Turning around to look at her, you notice both Ellie and Jesse staring at you.

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking back in forth between them.

“That!” Ellie exclaimed, pointing to the dead soldiers. “That was dumb.”

Rolling your eyes at her, you turned around and went to walk away only to have Ellie pulling you back by grabbing your shoulder, you almost winced at the pain, she must've forgotten your injury.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me (y/n).” She demanded, looking at you with an angry expression. “This guy almost shot you.”

“So? He didn't, thanks to you.” You stated and turned around again, not wanting to keep talking about this.

You had to admit, what you did was stupid but you just wanted to get this over with as quickly as you could.

Ellie looked back to Jesse, not knowing what to do. He just shrugged and followed you.

After you encountered more WLF’s, you and Ellie parted ways with Jesse after overhearing a conversation about a sniper. You all assumed it must've been Tommy so Jesse went after him while you and Ellie kept moving towards the aquarium. Everything was going great until you saw more WLF’s fighting with another group, you wanted to get past them but they've seen your boat already and started shooting at you from afar. 

“Fuck this is the group I told you about.” you grumbled, you knew it was them by the way they were dressed. They all had long coats on when you saw them yesterday and these guys were dressed the same, so it was clearly them. 

“Let’s fuck em up then.” Ellie said, moving the boat near the house so you could go inside. 

Grabbing your your rifle out of your backpack you moved closer to them, they haven't seen you walk into the building yet, one of them was standing by the broken window looking for you and Ellie.

Aiming your rifle at her head, you pulled the trigger, her body fell to the ground. You heard more running down the stairs, aiming your gun at them you quickly shot them as well. This was easy. Too easy.

“(y/n)! watch out!” Ellie yelled

You turned around quickly, just in time to move out of the way when a man swung his hatchet at you. He grunted when he missed you, Ellie started shooting at him but missed when she was attacked by another guy, “Ellie!” you yelled out, you wanted to help her but you had to get past this guy first. 

You ran back, keeping distance between you and the guy in front of you, aiming your rifle at him, you pulled the trigger but it clicked empty. “Fuck.” you grumbled when the guy started walking towards you. You threw your rifle at him, hitting him in his face, you almost wanted to laugh at his expression. 

You grabbed both your swords out and waited for him to attack. He came towards you with a scowl on his face, swinging his hatchet at your head, you dodged it and swung your sword at his arm, cutting him deep with your blade. He cried out in pain but that seemed to piss him off even more, he lunged at you without swinging his hatchet this time but you already knew you won the fight when you saw his angry expression. Anger makes you stronger but it also made you dumber. He almost reminded you of yourself yesterday.

You ducked down and moved behind him, giving him no time to react you stabbed your sword through his back, the blade moved through his chest, he gasped and fell to the floor when you pulled your sword out. 

Turning around, you ran towards Ellie, just when you were about to help her she already stabbed the guy in the neck, making him grunt in pain. She pulled her knife out, blood splattered across her face making her cringe in disgust. 

“Fuck.. I hate these assholes.” she grumbled, wiping the blood away. 

“Me too.” you said, moving towards her you grabbed her face, noticing that she a cut on her cheek. 

She noticed the worried look on your face, grabbing your hand that was resting on her cheek she assured you that she was fine. 

“At least it’s not deep, it won't leave a scar on your pretty face.” you said, making her blush. “Even if it did, you'd still be the most beautiful girl.” you said, winking at her before you went back to the boat, leaving her standing there blushing.

She blinked a few times before snapping out of her thoughts, you always decided to tease her at the worst moments. Shaking her head, she followed you out.

You found an old arcade and were now looking for a way out of there. Happy about getting away from the storm for a second, your clothes were sticking to your skin, uncomfortably.

You were looking for supplies when you heard a load crash and Ellie’s scream. You pulled your sword out thinking she ran into infected or something you ran out of the room to find a large hole in the floor that hasn't been there before. “Ellie!” you ran towards the hole, looking down you found her laying there, grunting in pain “I’m fi- oh fuck!” she got up quickly “fucking bloater!” she cursed before running away. You saw the bloater go after her, groaning.

Your heart was beating so fast you were sure it would jump out. Putting your sword back, you prepared a molotov and lit up the rag before jumping down, grunting when pain shot through your ankle. 

Ignoring it, you ran towards the bloater and threw the molotov at him, lighting him up. His attention immediately turned to you instead of Ellie. He started walking towards you but Ellie grabbed her shotgun and shot him a couple of times, killing him. 

Looking at Ellie you were just about to ask her if she was alright when you saw two infected jump down from the second floor, rolling your eyes you grabbed your swords out “they are mine.” you said, Ellie moved out of the way watching you, one infected ran towards you while the other one still struggled to get up. You stabbed it through it’s chest, his movement stilled and you pulled your sword out, splattering blood on your clothes in the process, moving towards the other infected, just when he was about to get up, you swung your sword at it’s head, the blade cut clean through his neck. 

Shaking the blood off your swords you put them back. Turning around to look at Ellie, you noticed her staring at you “that was..kinda hot.” she said, scratching the back of her neck. 

Snorting at her “you think me being all wet and covered in blood is hot?” you asked, not realizing the way it sounded until you saw her smirk at you. 

Shaking your head, you turned around to move upstairs and search for a way out. 

“You gotta admit, that did sound kind of wrong..” you heard Ellie say from behind you. 

“Whatever..”

After some struggles with the boat and a tidal wave almost drowning you and Ellie you managed to find your way to the aquarium. 

“You okay with facing her again?” you asked Ellie, eyeing her in worry. 

“I should be the one asking you this but yeah I just wanna finish it.” she said, looking through the broken window before jumping inside.

You followed her inside, looking at her, you noticed she was staring back at you, silently asking you if you were okay with seeing her again. 

“I’m gonna be fine Ellie.” You assured her, squeezing her hand before moving further inside.

“hey, we can go crawl through here.” you pointed to the vents. 

“yeah that could work.” Ellie said, moving towards it, she crawled inside. 

Following her inside, you started crawling.

Suddenly you heard a weird noise and Ellie stopped crawling “oh.. no.” she grunted before the vent broke and she went falling down. 

“Fuck Ellie!” you called out, crawling faster towards the hole when you suddenly heard barking. Jumping down, you saw the dog on top of Ellie barking and trying to bite her, you quickly grabbed your knife out of your belt and stabbed the dog, throwing it off her. “Are you okay?” you asked, helping her up. 

“yeah, stupid dog.” she grumbled. 

You looked down at the dog sadly, you used to love dogs. 

“alright come on.” you said. 

You walked through an empty room, checking it out before moving into the next one. You found a bag laying on the floor, moving towards it, you crouched down and looked inside, finding a familiar necklace, it had a firefly on it and the name Owen Moore.

Your father used to have one of those too, he always had it with him, even after they kicked him out. He died with that stupid necklace around his neck. 

“hey what you got there?” Ellie asked, snapping you out of your thoughts, she came up from behind you.

“uh firefly necklace, belongs to that Owen guy.” you said, giving it to her. 

She examined it before throwing it back into the bag. 

“Let’s keep moving” she said, before leaving the room. 

You went after her, stopping in front of a door. You heard muffled voices coming from behind that door. Glancing at Ellie you nodded your head, telling her to go in. 

She opened the door quietly and walked inside with you behind her, you saw two people fighting they were talking about Abby. You definitely recognized them both from that day. 

Just when the women was about to leave she spotted you and Ellie, gasping, she backed away, alerting Owen who looked surprised at you two standing there. “Hands up!” Ellie ordered, aiming her gun at them. They did what she told, putting their hands up.

Pulling your sword out, in case any of them tried anything, you stood next to Ellie. 

“Where’s Abby?” Ellie asked, pointing her gun at the women.

You glanced at Owen who seemed to study your and Ellie’s faces. Realization struck his face “you two are from Jackson.” 

“Tell me where she went!” 

“How do we know you won't kill us?” the women asked, with a shaky voice.

“You give her what they want’s and we’re both dead.” Owen said.

“You guys can survive this, we just want her.” you said, hoping they would just tell you where she was, you were tired of killing people. 

“Bullshit.” 

Ellie pulled her map out, looking at the women “you. come here.” she said calmly.

“Fucking get over here!” Ellie said with an angry voice. 

The women went over to her, with a scared look on her face. 

“point to where she is on the map.” she said “and then you.” she pointed her gun at Owen “and it better fucking match up.” she said, aggressively.

“Okay..” the women said, looking at the map “what are you doing?” Owen asked angrily.

“She's probably dead anyway!” she exclaimed 

“It’s not worth it.” he said, moving closer to her “back off buddy.” you said, pointing your blade towards his neck, he immediately stepped back.

“point to where she is.” Ellie ordered, her voice was heavy, rage and anger filled her. You felt it radiating off her, you don't think that you have ever seen her this way.

“fucking point!” she yelled at the women, pointing her gun at her, Owen tried to move past your swords and grab Ellie’s gun but you were faster than him, you kicked him in his stomach making him gasp, he clutched his stomach, stepping back.

You heard the women yelp at the sight of you attacking Owen.

He straightened up and tried to punch you but you dodged his fist and threw a punch at his face, deciding to get this over with as quick as possible you stabbed your sword through his chest. He gasped out in pain, looking into your eyes in horror, you couldn't help but stare back into his eyes, you realized how terrified he looked. A shiver ran down your spine at the way he was looking at you. He started falling down to his knees, the weight pulling you down with him when he fell. Pulling your sword out you let him fall back. Looking down at him in shock you looked down at his dead body, his eyes still open. 

“oh no.. no...no..!” you heard Ellie mumble from behind you “oh fuck..” 

Turning around slowly you looked up at Ellie who was clutching her stomach while walking backwards, she looked like she was about to have a panic attack.

Looking down on the floor where the women was laying dead on the floor, you noticed her stomach. She was pregnant. Your eyes widened and then looked at Ellie who fell down on her knees. 

“Fuck...” you sighed, getting up you ran towards Ellie, dropping down on the floor in front of her, you grabbed her face in your hands “Ellie...”

She was sobbing, trying to catch her breath. “fuck Ellie.. breathe with me” you said, grabbing her face with one hand you made her look at you and put her hand on your chest “breathe with me Ellie.” you said, she nodded her head, feeling your heartbeat and your chest move under her hand. She tried to take deep breaths, your touch and your voice immediately managed to calm her down.

“You're doing great baby.” you whispered, pulling her closer when her breathing got slower.

You were so distracted with calming her down that you didn't hear the door open or the footsteps coming your way until you heard your name being called. Looking up you found Tommy and Jesse standing there, looking around you.

Jesse looked at the pregnant woman in shook, while Tommy made sure that Ellie was alright. He helped you get her up “come on, let’s get out of here.” he said. 

You grabbed Ellie’s hand and started to pull her out of the room. She turned to look back “come on, don't look Ellie.” you said, grabbing her waist you guided her out, glancing at Owen’s dead body one last time.

You weren't sure if you would recover from this. If Ellie would recover from this.

You have killed before but never like this. You would never forget the way he looked at you when you stabbed your sword through his chest. 

You always told yourself that you only kill when it’s absolutely necessary but was it necessary this time? You could've just knocked him out but you didn't. 

You were done with this, you didn't want to do this anymore. 

You just had to kill one more person. Just one person and then this all would be over.

[shreddedparchment]

Spa Day

03/04/2021

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader          Word Count: 7,559

Warnings: language, depression, past abuse, emotional abuse, fluff

A/N: I wrote this because I have been feeling pretty down on myself. It’s pure self indulgence to make me feel better. I hope it will help someone else and if not, I hope you at least get a smile or some entertainment from reading it. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You’re awkward, walking in. Feeling out of place.

This place was for special people. Well, people who mattered.

You’re not sure how you got the voucher. It all happened so quickly.

One minute you were sitting in Mr. Wayne’s office, twiddling your thumbs to expend some nervous energy as you awaited your firing then the next you were being shoved out his office door with a gentle but firm hand at the center of your back.

Mr. Wayne had smiled, his face relaxed and amused.

“It expires soon, so use it tomorrow,” he’d said.

“I work tomorrow,” you’d resisted, no intention of losing a full day’s paid work.

“Take the day. On me. Full pay,” As you opened your mouth to protest again, he quickly lifted his hand to silence you politely and tacked on, “There’s no use arguing with me. Now enjoy it or you’re fired.”

He’d shut the heavy wooden door in your face leaving you standing there, stunned. At a loss to think up a reason to not come here today but obviously you’ve failed seeing as you’re here.

“Good morning!” A young woman with soft to the touch looking blonde hair smiles at you from behind the modern pale wooden counter. The white marble top shines in your eyes.

“Hi. Morning,” you sputter.

“How can we help you today?”

She’s so nice. So polite. Professional. This place is super expensive looking. There’s a crystal chandelier behind you at the center of the small lobby space. Chic sofas line the wall behind you, large pots with dragon trees growing tall add a splash of color to the otherwise sterile and plain gray walls.

Despite its minimalist decor, the office exudes money.

You’re almost at the brink of following the impulse that wants to turn you towards the tinted glass door, but before you can make your escape, the receptionist’s kind voice interrupts you.

“Oh! You have one of our platinum vouchers! Lucky you,” she smiles, genuine in her glee. “Shall I take that?”

She holds out her hands, both of them and waits for you to place the thick and shiny ticket-like paper in them.

Quickly she gives it a read, turning it over and then placing it under a UV light by her computer. An image shines out from under the purple light of a shimmering diamond right at the center of the ticket.

“You’ve got the works. Was it a gift?” She looks up at you, not intending to insult you but you can’t help but feel a little stung by her assumption.

You can’t really blame her though. You reserve all of your best outfits for work. Casual yet distinguished pantsuits and skirts with matching tops or jackets.

Today you’ve chosen a simple floor length skirt. It sits snugly around your waist and hips. Your t-shirt, a simple graphic tee with the words “Touch the Radley House YOLO” printed in bold black letters.

“Uh, yeah,” you admit to the girl, wishing she’d just sign you in and let you go about your day. “My boss gave it to me.”

“Lucky, lucky. You must have a really nice boss,” she admires.

“Well, I lost his company nearly a hundred million dollars and he didn’t fire me, so…” you trail off, still lost as to why Mr. Wayne had been so adamant you take some time off and why he’d been so understanding about the Ronson account.

“Oh,” the girl says, blinking a few times as she tries to process what you just said. “A very nice boss then.”

Her conclusion brings a small smile to your lips because truthfully, Mr. Wayne is very kind. You’ve never heard him berate an employee and he’s usually only tough on his business associates. Members of his board and investors. Like Mr. Ronson.

If he wasn’t so out of your league, you’d even consider maybe letting yourself really look at him. He’s hot for sure, but he always seems so preoccupied. Like he has something he’s trying to keep buried.

Nice, but he has secrets. No one’s perfect.

“Well, we’ve got you all booked in. What you’ll want to do is head in through that door on your right, walk halfway down the hall and the lounge room should be there to your left. Someone will come and escort you to your first experience.”

You observe her vernacular. Every word she speaks is rehearsed and probably scripted to a certain point.

“Thank you,” you give her another small smile, still feeling out of place but a little more at ease.

“Enjoy!” she calls as you cross through the heavy wooden door.

It swings shut behind you silently, a soft hiss at it latches.

The hallway before you is just as simple yet chic as the lobby. The colors are less neutral, a calming turquoise with a black base and a thick silver stripe lining the center of the wall at about waist height.

The doors are pale wood, smooth to the touch. You pass several of them as you make your way to the lounge.

Inside the door to your left at the center of the hall you find the lounge room. Which actually turns out to be a locker room. Smaller than what you would have thought with only about fifteen lockers that look more like small safes. Each one has a digital keypad, a fingerprint reader, and an iris scanner.

“Sheesh…” you observe but pick one and move over to it to set up your passcode, fingerprint, and scan your eye so that you can come get your stuff when your day of relaxation is over.

Inside the locker you find a neatly folded outfit wrapped in sanitary plastic. Completely sealed.

Just in case you’re wrong about this being a spot where you can change, you look for a designated changing area but don’t find one.

With no other choice, you place your purse and keys inside the locker, then slowly begin to strip. Shoes, skirt underwear go into the locker but your nerves don’t let you remove your t-shirt just yet. Untucked from your skirt, it’s easier to tell that it’s intentionally oversized.

After another quick anxious look at the door you’d come in through, you hook your hands into the base of your shirt and pull it up...just as the door opens and a large clearly male body steps in.

You gasp, whirling around in surprise to reclothe your breasts.

Cool air blows against your bottom as your shirt also twists with your movement, but you reach back and yank it down.

“Oh, I am...uh, didn’t see anything?” The voice is deep, smooth. It puts you at ease even though you literally just exposed yourself to a complete stranger.

“No, no. It’s fine,” you tell him, voice strained with embarrassment. “It’s my fault, I didn’t know if there was a separate changing room. I just...didn’t see any.”

“Oh, um...it’s the door right across the hall. But you know what? I’ll actually just step right outside and let you finish.”

That’s so nice…”You don’t have to, I can just-”

You turn around to look at him, keeping your hands on your shirt to pull it down. One at the front. One behind.

Simultaneously, though you don’t notice, both your and his jaw drop.

It takes both of you a moment to find your voices and while he speaks, your mind is busy taking in his massive size.

He’s thick. Muscles bulking through the should-be loose wrap top he’s wearing. Like yours it’s a soft peach color, the same diamond shape you’d seen on your voucher under the UV light etched into the right breast.

With the top he wears loose pants, or somewhat loose around his knee and down to his ankles; there’s a pair of charcoal slippers on his feet. His thighs, like his arms and chest strain against the clothes he’d been given.

It’s clearly too small. You wonder if maybe this place doesn’t carry the outfit in his size. It’s very possible, considering his girth.

“Miss?”

His slightly concerned expression brings you back to yourself, now flustered because he’s caught you gawking at him.

“Sorry, I’m-you just surprised me and my brain’s a little-what did you say?”

“I’ll just step outside,” he doesn’t wait for you to respond as he backs up to the door then pulls it open and disappears through it, closing it gently behind him.

“What the hell was that?!” you gasp, angry at yourself for staring.

He’s hot! You couldn’t help it. He also looks familiar, though you can’t place the face. How you could possibly forget a face like that you have no idea.

While you change, you think about the smaller things you’d notice.

His hair is dark. Black. Curls that are carefully kept in place with hair products. His skin is a perfect pale peach. Not so pink as the clothes you’re pulling on, but it falls under the same shade. There didn’t seem to be a single blemish from what you were able to see.

A small tuft of chest hair had been peeking out of the V of the top. His face had been perfect, yes, but kind. There was a gentleness in it. The small curve of a smile had played on his rosebud pink lips. Not thin. Not thick. They were perfect.

He was perfect.

And those eyes...so blue. Like a clear spring sky. So bright and observant. There’s no way he didn’t catch you staring. Shit.

You note as you shove your underclothes into your locker out of where he might see them, that your own outfit for this spa leaves even less to the imagination than what must be the male uniforms.

Where the handsome stranger had pants, you were given very small shorts. Little more than boy short underwear in length. Parts of your bottom were threatening to overflow.

The top, while similar to the one the stranger wore, also came with a bandeau given the unique look of being wrapped around your chest when it so clearly is just one piece. You were expected to wear this underneath the looser wrap top.

Pulling it shut, you’re still tying the top closed around your waist as you hurry to the door where the stranger must still be waiting.

You open it...but he’s gone.

Disappointment floods through you. Surprising you.

You have no reason to want to see him, but you suppose you had just wanted to apologize for the awkwardness.

With a sigh you shut the door and move back to your locker to shove the rest of your belongings in just as a kind looking young woman no older than the receptionist at the front desk comes in with a smile.

“Are we ready for the diamond experience? You’re a very lucky lady!”

Even though you’re still only halfway sure you even want to go through with this whole thing, her excitement is catching and you find yourself nodding and scurrying after her as she shows you down the hall for your all expense paid spa day.

~~~~~~~~~~

You aren’t used to relaxation.

Not to this degree.

A gold facial? Full body exfoliation with sea salt and Indian kama oil? A rain massage which consisted of you being massaged with several different clays as warm water is cascaded down your body? An herbal bath with murky green water that leaves your skin feeling fresh--like mint but for your skin?

It’s too much!

You’re four hours into your spa session and you’re so sleepy you might pass out in this next one.

As you’re escorted by the same young lady who has been tending to you from the beginning, she opens the door of a long room, the outer wall of which is made up of endless glass panels that catch the rays of the sun.

As you step in, you’re assaulted by immediate drowsiness as your entire being is engulfed in slightly sticky heat.

This isn’t a sauna. It won’t make you sweat buckets. But it makes your skin dewy and your eyes droop.

“Oh, wow,” you gasp, suddenly wanting to run before you can collapse to the floor in unconsciousness.

Your escort laughs, “The hot room has that effect on all of our guests. Come, it looks like we’ve got a spot free over at the far end.”

Along this wall of glass, there are lounge chairs with soft cushions grouped in twos, separated by a lattice waterfall panel that tinkles pleasantly as it empties down into a bed of soft pebbles. On the table at the head of these seats is a pitcher of water, glasses, and a set of small handheld fans that one can use to cool off a bit in the heat. Just in case it becomes too much, you guess. Though you can’t imagine it will. The heat isn’t oppressive. Just consuming.

It’s everywhere but it’s not choking or frustrating.

“I hope you don’t mind if we put you next to one of our other single guests? Most of our diamond packages are used by couples, as you can see.”

Your escorts gestures at the chairs as you pass them and sure enough, every seat is taken with couples hiding behind large potted fan palms.

“No, I don’t mind,” you answer in single, as if you have any choice. “How long will I be in here?”

“An hour or so? If you’d like to exit early, there is a small button on the table by your lounge. Press it and I will come take you to your next experience,” she looks back and smiles at you.

You notice that you pass three spots without lounge seats and wonder silently why some of them have been removed. At the end of these empties is where the escort stops. A set of lounges in the very last spot against the wall.

“Here you are,” your escort smiles. “If you need anything, just give us a call.”

“Thank you,” you smile at her and squeeze between the potted palms.

Slightly nervous, you look for your unintended partner and gasp at the Adonis you’d thought you’d lost.

The sound draws his attention and his expression shifts from stoic concentration to soft smile, “Hey, it’s you again.”

It takes you a moment to find your voice because you’re too busy gawking again.

He’s not wearing a shirt or pants. That is, he’s wearing shorts. A lot longer than yours, reaching about the top of his thighs, but still short. Like briefs. It gives you a good view of every single muscle in his long legs and you suddenly envy anyone that’s ever had the privilege to ride that thigh.

What the fuck am I thinking?! You give our head a shake and try to focus on his face as he waits. It’s only a second too late.

“Yeah, hi. Sorry, I-” you avert your eyes and quickly take a seat in your own lounge chair to his left, keeping your eyes on anything other than the mass that is his chest.

Just as you’d thought, it’s covered in a mouthwatering line of chest hair that trailers down onto his stomach and makes an ever so subtle trail down, down, down...down...down…

He chuckles, “It’s alright. It’s only fair you get a good look too, right?”

You’re not even processing what he’s saying, unable to focus for a bit.

“You’re here alone?” It’s more an observation than a question but you answer anyway, grasping at the distraction.

“Yes,” you nod. “A gift from my boss.”

“Me too,” he turns a little in his seat so that he can look at you, but adjusting his angle so that he can still keep his legs up, one propped up as he rests his elbow on his knee. The other stretched out before him.

This draws your gaze back to him and you’re able to pay attention this time and ignore his very distracting body.

“Oh?”

“I mean, not my boss, but it was a gift from a friend. He thought I could use a nice relaxing day.”

The way he says it, sounds like you’re not the only one saddled with what you perceived was a burden or at the very least, a waste of time.

You grin, “Mine too. My boss. I saved the company I work with from a scandal and his idea of repaying me was to give me a spa day. A raise would have been more than enough.”

“Tell me about it,” the man says, smiling with stunning pearly whites.

His smile is gorgeous and you’re enamored again by how sweet he looks.

How can someone look like he can tear the head off a rhino and still look so adorable? It can’t be fair.

“Rent keeps going up and my job doesn’t pay nearly enough to keep up. At this rate I might end up having to move back to the farm.”

“Oh,” you reply lamely, piecing together where he might have grown his sculpted figure. Farm work can be grueling.

He gives you a look, assessing your response then waves his hand gently as if to swat away his complaint, “Sorry, don’t listen to me. I’ve got it better than most. You don’t need to be hearing about my problems.”

“No!” you rush to assuage his worry. “No, it’s okay. That sucks about your job. Is there no chance at a raise?”

“Not exactly, I have a uh, a hobby that keeps me from taking more work and I kind of get paid by assignment. I have a flat salary but working extra would definitely help with the bills.”

“What do you do?” you wonder, trying to picture this guy doing anything other than just looking like a God in a spa.

He could be a bodyguard? They get assignments. Construction? Personal trainer?

“I’m a journalist,” he tells you, speaking matter-of-factly as if it makes perfect sense.

You blink, then chuckle and then laugh once.

“What?” he asks, amused and smiling again as you chuckle. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “It’s just, journalist is not where my mind went.”

He doesn’t seem surprised but he also doesn’t say anything else.

The two of you lapse into silence. It’s not uncomfortable and at least you don’t feel like you need to say anything to fill the dead air.

Twenty minutes pass and you lean back in your chair to relax, sighing lightly and smiling at the immaculate aura that this stranger seems to emanate.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

The longer you lay there, suddenly not sleepy at all, the more your curiosity grows. Turning towards him, you find him already looking at you.

This startles you but in a good way. You smile and the soft curve of his lips breaks into a full toothed smile.

Both of you move your lips to speak, but before you can either of you get a word in a rustle of palm leaves pulls both your attentions behind your seats.

You sit up, twisting a little to look at who’s come, expecting to see your escort or some other spa staff.

Instead you find a woman you’d spotted laying in another spot with who you’d thought was the other half of her couple. Her waist-length auburn hair clings to the skin of her bare shoulders and sides. She’s removed her top, leaving her in her bandeau.

“Hi,” she says to your stranger-wait not your stranger. Shoot.

He looks confused but not unfriendly, “Hello.”

“My friend finally talked me into coming over and talking to you,” she informs him.

“I see,” your-the stranger says.

The girl seems to be expecting something but the stranger just looks up at her expectantly. Awkwardly.

He looks at you and you quickly turn away from their conversation, pushing yourself to the end of the lounge to sit with your hands holding onto the edge, feet flat on the ground.

You try not to eavesdrop but they’re right there.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he asks her, sounded polite but not uninterested.

You can hear the woman shifting from foot to foot, probably pushing her hips from side to side. Her figure is nice. Not like yours. She’s attractive, in a conventional way. In a magazine accepted way.

Your mood sinks the longer you ponder on this random girl and the stranger. There’s an endless string of disappointments that have built you into this person you are.

Insecurities made worse by words spoken by people that should have supported you or those you thought were on your side. Affections misplaced. Kindness taken advantage of. Betrayal. Worst of all the betrayal. Some small. Some big.

You know that you should be less shaky in your self worth. You know that you’re more than the words spoken and the actions taken that brought you to this point. But how do you turn it off? How to fight the thoughts that bring you down?

It’s not something you can do all at once. You know this. And yet feeling bad about yourself makes you feel guilty because you know it’s bad and that makes you feel worse. It’s an endless cycle.

You’re fully wallowing in your own self-pity before the girl even has a chance to answer the stranger’s question.

“Well, I noticed you came by yourself and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to have dinner sometime? Or maybe coffee?”

You don’t dare turn back, you just resign yourself to a lack of luck and stare out at nothing even though the view is really nice.

“Thank, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not looking for a date right now, I don’t really have the time,” the stranger says, giving her a diplomatic response.

Letting her down without letting her down.

“Oh, well,” there’s a beat of silence. “In case you change your mind, here’s my number. Call me, if you find some time?”

You hear her retreat and the soft shift of what must be a business card against the wood of the table behind the stranger’s chair.

Movement shifts in your periphery and you see that the stranger has moved to the end of his own lounge, mimicking your pose though he’s much bulkier and takes up much more space.

“That was weird,” he says, a small puff of air passing between his lips as he huffs a laugh.

“Why?”

“Well, she just came up to me, out of nowhere,” he clarifies.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the first time that’s happened to you.”

The stranger seems to pick up on your mood shift, his face etched with concern as he tries to lean forward, head tilted a little as he strains for a better look at your face.

“Actually, that never happens to me,” he says. A lie?

“How about you?” he checks, probing gently to see if he can get you to talk.

“No. Never.”

“But you’re so-”

“I’m nothing,” you interrupt, the words an automatic response as if you’ve been hypnotized into saying those words exactly. A trained response.

The silence is no longer comfortable, but thick and heavy.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true. I’m nobody.”

It hurts to speak these words aloud. Words that have hurt you in the past. Words that have cut you time and again. Scars left behind by those people that should have loved you but didn’t.

“No one is nobody,” the stranger counters.

He watches you, observing.

You don’t like the front row seat he has to your wallowing. You try to pull yourself out of it but the hole just keeps getting deeper.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, stealing a quick glance at him.

He’s still got his head tilted a little in pure concentration as he watches you, brow crinkled with focus.

It’s not judgement though, just intent. You can tell he’s really listening and it makes your heart flutter. No one has ever listened to you before. Not like this. Not with a deep desire to understand like he does.

He shakes his head, “Was it the girl coming over?”

You look away, feeling embarrassed, “She reminded me of someone I knew. Someone I dated.”

Nodding, he indicates that he’s listening.

You smile without humor, hurt by the memory, “He thought I should look like her. Or...he didn’t say exactly like her, but he said he wished I looked better.”

He frowns, his deep dislike for your story honest, “He doesn’t sound like a nice guy.”

“No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t like, evil or anything, but yeah. Not a nice guy,” you admit, accepting that in that case, it was definitely your boyfriend’s problem.

“But that’s not it?”

You look at him.

“There’s more to it?” he guesses.

You look out at the scenic view finally, not really seeing it but appreciating the colors at least.

“This spa day?” you begin, stealing another glance at him.

He turns to sit facing you, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped as his listening intensifies.

“The only reason I got it was because as I said before I saved the company I work for from being dragged into scandal. I also lost a bunch of money by losing the client but my boss was pretty pleased.

“But the only reason I even touched the account was because I was sorta forced to?” Is that the best way to describe what happened?

“How were you forced to deal with that account?”

“Well, I’m not exactly the best with making friends? I mean, I have had friends before. I just--I got really sick a while back and I lost most of them because I cancelled on plans a lot or I didn’t have the energy to maintain contact? Even texting felt like such a chore. Just the act of responding and-I guess they thought that I thought being friends with them was a chore, and that wasn’t it.

“I just couldn’t find the energy to try to do anything. Some days I wouldn’t even eat because I’d have to get up and make myself food and I barely got up to go to the bathroom much less make a meal.

“Anyway, I just kind of gave up and they did to and now, I don’t really have an in with people? I don’t say much and it’s not that I don’t want to talk, I just don’t have anything worth saying. Or maybe I just can’t think of anything? I don’t know. But it affects work relationships too.”

“How?” he asks.

You take a deep breath, looking down at your hands clinging to the edge of the lounge before releasing it slowly.

“It’s really just me getting in my feelings,” you shrug.

“What you feel is what you feel, even if you don’t think you should. Our pasts can affect us well into our futures.”

His encouragement helps, and you feel a little less vulnerable to share with him.

“I work in the PR department. There are six of us in total. We’re a pretty big company. Multinational big. So there’s one of us for every form of media. Since we all work for the same clients, bridging the gap, we usually spread the workload evenly.

“Or, the other five members of my team do. Sometimes they just forget that I’m there and I usually get stuck with the leftover work. I’m not one to complain, so-” you shrug. “But they forget me for other stuff too. Company dinners. Competitions for prizes in the office. Secret Santa. Stuff like that.

“It makes me feel alone.”

You chance a glance at him, and he’s still watching you but his eyes are far away for a bit as if he’s remembering something.

“I know how that feels,” he nods. “I’ve felt alone almost all my life in some ways. Luckily, I’ve made a few friends to help me see things a little differently but that loneliness will never really go away.

“I understand.”

You smile, feeling more and more at peace again with him. Calm, like he really does get it.

He responds to the shift in your expression by relaxing his own. A small crinkle forms at the corners of his eyes, a subtle curve of his lips.

Now that you’re both feeling a little better, you can admit to yourself that you were jealous. Not just because the girl was everything that you were made to think you should be, but because this stranger, gorgeous as he is, is so nice.

He’s sweet and you want that in your next partner. You want to have someone care about you genuinely. You’re a little ashamed of wanting to claim him. Do you even dare entertain the thought?

“Yeah, I think you probably do,” you smile wider, turning in your seat to face him like he’s facing you.

“Now that you know all about my depression, would you like to know my name?” you ask him, teasing a smile.

He smiles more freely, “On a first date? Isn’t that moving kinda fast?”

Your stomach tumbles, heart sprinting at his words.

“A date?”

He only smiles wider, your heart stuttering before taking off at double speed again.

You tell him your name and then bite your lip, unable to believe your good luck.

“What about that other girl? You told her you weren’t looking for a date,” you wonder.

“Well, how can I be looking for a date when I’m already on one? Besides, how many girls do you think I can come across before I find another one wearing a shirt about my favorite book again?” he asks, all sincerity.

“Your favorite book is to Kill a Mockingbird?”

His smile is blinding.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” he nods, reaching out to shake your hand. “My name is Clark. Clark Kent.”

You take it and almost faint as your head goes dizzy at the soft touch of his skin.

The veins of his forearm bulge as he squeezes gently but he doesn’t actually shake it and instead seems to just hold your hand.

“Wait, I’ve seen your editorials before. You work at the Daily Planet.”

“I do,” he nods.

Your stomach suddenly falls, jealousy raking up along your ribs to settle around your heart to make it ache.

“Aren’t you dating Lois Lane? I thought-you two went to one of my boss’s parties together.”

It had been so long ago. Months and months. You remember Mr. Wayne going on about his friends Clark and Lois. You hadn’t met them, but Mr. Wayne had left to greet them when they’d arrived.

Clark’s own face falls just a tad, a small melancholic shift but it’s not deep. He keeps his smile, though smaller, and nods.

“We broke up last year,” he confesses, still not releasing your hand.

His thumb grazes against the back of it, sending goosebumps up from that point to spread along your arms and the rest of your body.

“I’m...not sorry?” you laugh, unable to help yourself because how can you be sorry about it now?

Clark also chuckles, “You know, right now, suddenly I’m not either.”

Before you can think of something cute to say, your stomach gurgles loudly, announcing to anyone close enough to hear that you’re hungry.

“Oh,” you utter, embarrassed as you finally take your hand back to rub your belly. “Sorry, I guess I haven’t eaten in a bit.”

“They have a menu here, I’ll grab us one.”

He rises and is gone before you can stop him and holy hell does he have a nice butt.

Watching him leave, you contemplate the way he used the word “us” so casually and wiggle with the pleasure it gives you.

As quick as you can, you look for any reflective surface and settle on the window across from you on which you can barely see yourself.

It’s enough though and you quickly go about fixing your hair which is surprisingly not bad even after all the treatments you’ve undergone.

A soft voice calls your name, the young woman who’s been escorting you.

“Hi, are you ready for your next treatment?” she smiles at you politely, kindly even, her body slightly bent down so that she won’t speak too loud and disturb the other people enjoying the hot room.

“Oh, um...I’m actually super hungry and I was going to order something to eat?”

The idea of being taken away to somewhere that you can’t be around Clark devastates you. You haven’t been this into anyone in so long.

“Oh okay! What would you like to order? Did you get a menu?”

The young woman gestures over her shoulder as if asking if she should go get you one.

“Actually-” but you don’t get to explain because Clark suddenly steps up to loom over both of you.

He doesn’t mean to, you don’t think, he’s just so big and he kind of naturally just looms.

“Hi,” he greets her kindly, and she flushes.

You can’t blame her. She takes a step back to put some space between herself and Clark and she’s seriously flustered. He’s hot.

Clark squeezes back by and sits himself in his seat before opening the paper menu and leaning towards you to give you a look.

You read through the choices quickly and nothing looks too crazy.

“Ooh, this one looks good,” you tell him, pointing down at the bottom of the menu.

“Should we get that one?”

“Yeah!” you reply eagerly, excited for the food.

You’re really very hungry.

“Can we get the gourmet pizza?” Clark asks, “And an order of the mini muffins? What kind are they?”

“Blueberry today,” the girl informs him, back to her composed and professional attitude.

“Two orders of those. And…”

“You don’t offer any kind of burger?” you ask the young woman looking back at her.

She smiles kindly but shakes her head, “No, sorry. The closest would be the sandwiches. We have tuna, cucumber, egg salad, and ham.”

While they sound like normal sandwiches, you have a suspicion that they’re going to be fancy in one way or another.

“Can we have an order of the tuna?”

She nods.

“And we’ll get the chocolate fondue, for desert?” Clark adds, folding up the menu and handing it to your escort.

“Alrighty, and for drinks? We can bring just plain water or perhaps some herb infused tea?”

“Do you have any sweet tea?” you wonder.

She nods.

“Two please,” Clark smiles. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” your escort says and hurries off to put in the order.

Both of you watch her go then when you meet Clark’s eyes, he laughs, just once. Failing to keep it inside.

“Did we order too much?” you wonder.

“I’m hungry too,” Clark assures you.

“I really wanted a burger,” you lament. “I mean, this food will probably be better than some greasy burger but-”

“A burger sounds like heaven. I love greasy burgers. Double meat. Triple cheese. Lots of pickles.”

He makes a funny face, pretending to salivate over the image he’s painted and while it’s a subtle change in his expression, you can tell that he’s more prone to being serious and that makes the gesture funnier for some reason.

You laugh, shaking your head.

He laughs with you, leaning back in his lounge.

You follow his lead, then turn onto your side and shove an arm underneath your head.

He mimics your pose, drawing his long legs up a little to bend them.

“I’m sorry about earlier, with the locker room? I really didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to change in there.”

Clark’s smiles shift to a soft curve of his lips.

“I’m the one that should be apologizing,” he counters. “I walked in on you.”

“But you had no idea I’d be in there half naked, I kinda just thrust my body at you.”

There’s a beat, he looks down at your chair instead of maintaining eye contact, then, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Your neck is suddenly on fire. Cheeks, ears, the base of your belly. It all burns as your heart stutters.

As he looks up to meet your eyes again, those baby blues burning with a striking spark, something he said when you first came in here replays itself in your head.

You frown, narrowing your eyes at him, “Hey, when I came in here, I apologized for staring at your naked upper body and you said that it was only fair I get a good look too.

“Are you saying you saw me when you clearly said you didn’t in the locker room?!”

Clark averts his eyes, clearing his throat loudly before throwing himself onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.

“I’m gonna have to get my friend something really good in return for gifting me this spa day,” Clark says, pointedly changing the subject.

But he has a point. This has been the best little indulgence you’ve ever given yourself and none of it could have been possible without Mr. Wayne’s generosity.

“Me too. I’ll have to make sure my boss knows how glad I am that he forced me to come here.”

Clark smiles, “What’s your next treatment? Did you pick them before you came?”

“We could do that?” You gasp.

Clark just smiles wider.

“No, I’m just going with the flow. The girl who took our order has been suggesting stuff and I’ve just been going with it.”

“I have a fresh water soak after this. You should join me.” Clark offers.

After the hot room, a swim in some fresh water sounds like heaven. And extending your time with Clark is a definite bonus.

“Aren’t we not supposed to swim for thirty minutes after we eat?” you tease.

Clark chuckles, “It’s a soak.”

Then, his voice shifts and you’re knocked breathless as he basically pleads with you.

“Join me. Only if you want to. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

Your brain is buzzing with that pleading voice of his. Gentle urging that betrays his want to be with you rather than wanting to control you.

“A fresh water soak sounds amazing.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing could ever top today. You and Clark stuck together the rest of the day. It was fun getting to know him and exciting because the longer you two spent time together, the closer he sat to you.

As you dropped your spa outfit into a canvas souvenir bag that your attendee had given you at your last treatment--a couple’s massage that you and Clark had talked all the way through--Clark peeked around his own locker door, shutting it.

“So, I was thinking,” he began, moving to lean beside your locker as he towers over you, making you internally swoon with the curve of his lips.

“Yeah?” you urge him on, taking your other belongings and throwing them into the canvas bag along with your spa outfit which is also free for you to take.

“I have some things to do tonight but, how would you like to get some burgers tomorrow?”

“Are you asking me out on a second date, Clark?” as much as you wish you could sound like you were teasing, your excitement betrays you and Clark beams at your tone.

“Definitely,” he says low and deep.

Fuck, you’re totally screwed. You’re falling hard.

You really want to reach up and gently slide the curl falling on his forehead to the side lightly, but you resist the urge.

“I’d love to go out and get greasy burgers with you,” you bite your lip and Clark’s expression shifts a bit more serious but there’s a fire in his eyes, a darkening as his pupils dilate that makes your heart stutter.

“Come on,” Clark nods towards the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

He bumps into you, flirtatiously nudging you as he leads you out and you return his gentle push with your own.

“Had you been to a spa like this before?”

“No,” Clark shakes his head. “I actually don’t get much benefit at these places. It feels good, but it’s not really my thing. You?”

“I feel cleaner than I ever have,” you scoff. “But I could never afford it. Even the cheap places. I’d rather just take a walk around a park or something.”

“Me too,” Clark agrees, smiling.

As the two of you walk out into the parking lot, the cooler air outside feels pleasant against your treated skin.

In the setting sun light, Clark looks especially good and you can’t help yourself. You steal several glances at him with no worry as to hiding it.

You’re happy to see he’s doing it too.

“Oh good,” a familiar voice interrupts, pulling your feet to a stop as you search for your boss’s face. “You two met.”

“Wait, us two-?”

“Bruce?” Clark also stops beside you, eyes narrowed, a crinkle between his eyes.

You look between the two of them, confused but starting to put two and two together.

“Bruce? You-Mr. Wayne is your friend who gave you the voucher?” you realize.

Clark looks at you, his own realizations starting to manifest.

“Bruce is your boss?”

Mr. Wayne moves towards the two of you, hands shoved into his long charcoal gray coat. There’s a satisfied grin on his handsome face, a pride in what you realize must have been a carefully crafted maneuver.

Clark looks at you, a knowing smile on his face as if amused but maybe also a little irritated? Not with you, of course. Clearly his annoyance is with Mr. Wayne.

“You did this,” he accepts, looking back at Mr. Wayne with a tilt of his head.

“I didn’t do anything,” Mr. Wayne denies. “I just gave you two a free day at the spa. Did she tell you why I gave her the voucher?”

“She did,” Clark nods.

“Not every PR rep would overlook a five hundred million dollar investment in order to keep us clean from associating with a suspected illegal arms dealer. Most of them would just look the other way.” Mr. Wayne brags.

A look of understanding crossing Clark’s face and he looks down at you, smiling again as if he’s pieced together a puzzle.

“It was really nothing, Mr. Wayne, and thank you for today. I-I’m actually really glad I came. I would have hated it if the voucher expired.”

“Expired?” Clark asks, turning that confused look back on his friend. “They don’t expire.”

Mr. Wayne clears his throat and turns his full body away from you both, looking back at his shiny expensive sports car.

“Yeah, they do,” he says.

“Bruce,” Clark chides.

“We’re gonna be late,” Mr. Wayne says, ignoring Clark’s reprimand, then looks at you as he pretends he wasn’t just caught in a lie. “Do you have a ride home?”

“Yeah, I brought my car,” you gesture at a modest white sedan parked a few spots over.

“Good. I’ll see you on Monday. Clark?” Mr. Wayne urges him, then walks towards his car.

“I’ll be right there,” Clark tells him, then waits for you to lead the way to your car.

Your heart is still thrumming rapidly with the realization that Mr. Wayne went out of his way to make sure you and Clark met. A set up?

You stop by your car door and unlock it. Clark is quick to take the door from you as you open it and he holds it with his left arm as you turn to look up at him.

“I had a lot of fun today, despite the obvious premeditation of us meeting,” you scoff. “I’m glad I met you.”

You’re quickly becoming acquainted with the gentle curve of Clark’s lips, the peek of his pearly whites as he blushes and meets your eyes.

“I’m glad Bruce interfered,” he nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow for burgers?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you assure him.

After a moment of hesitation, he reaches out and places his hand on your bicep then traces the length of your arm until he can take your hand.

It sets your skin on fire. It makes you dizzy and breathless.

“You have my number,” you remind him, eager to reconnect if he has the time.

He gives you that pearly smile, blue eyes full of excitement, “I’ll call you later. Tonight?”

You nod, “Tonight.”

He waits for you to get in, shutting the door for you when you’re sitting.

You lower the window as he backs away, “Bye.”

“Bye,” he nods, then turns to meet Mr. Wayne at his car.

“What?” Bruce asks, “It’s been months. She’s perfect for you.”

“Really?!” you can hear Clark demand, more annoyed with his friend again than any consequences his actions might have brought, however positive.

“You like her, don’t you?” Mr. Wayne asks.

“That’s not the point, Bruce. Boundaries.” Clark reminds him. “Why did you lie to her?”

“I knew you were coming today, I had to get her here,” Mr. Wayne explains. “Besides, you’re-”

As their doors shut, you’re cut off from their distant conversation. You shut your window, watch them speed out, and smile to yourself at the unexpected turn your spa day took.

[aiiwa]

PRETTY IN PINK — IWAIZUMI HAJIME.

✗ REQUEST: may i request a lil text fic of yn having the most juiciest 🍑 and taking pics in her lingerie to send to her female friends so they can help pic out which one is the prettiest but she accidently sends them to her best friend and crush iwa and how that would go?????

— iwaizumi hajime.

⤷ genre: college au - fluff (?) / crack (?)

⤷ warnings: suggestive / mature themes, cursing, and a photo thirst trap photo (?), also iwa talking about masturbating over your photo

⤷ word count: 2.8k

— a/n: for my big booty anon i would sell my soul for 🍑💖

this is set in the same universe as freshman year, so feel free to give it a read if you’d like!!

life after meeting your boys had changed your daily routine in the best way. not a minute went by that wasn’t filled with the familiar craziness you had grown on.

free time was spent humouring mattsun by shifting the couches in their apartment around and engaging in a wrestling match, originally stemming from a fight the two of you had over the last slice of cake a month ago; the current score was an even tie of 14-14 though you had plans to take the lead. when it came to makki, he was more than happy to indulge on your self-care days; he’d even take part in your skincare routine, let you paint his nails, and liked it when you made smoothies to sip on while the two of you waited for your clay masks to dry. every other week was dedicated to retouching his roots with pink hair dye.

other days, you were set up on your bed; under the soft covers, stash of snacks next to you, while your laptop rested on your lap. and at exactly three a.m. you would receive an incoming call from, oikawa. since it would be three p.m. in argentina, he’d take to sitting out on his balcony, basking in the sun and interrogating you on the relationship, or lack thereof, you had with his dear iwa-chan.

speaking of sweet, gorgeous iwa - in your biased and majorly crushing opinion, hanging out with him was your favourite. though you’d never be heard saying that around anyone. just last week he’d all but solidified your love for him even more, when the two of you were up late, binge watching a new sci-fi show that caught iwa’s attention, and he got up to make you some coffee when you started to feel sleepy.

“here we go, coffee with two sugars for the pretty lady.” the warmth you felt run over your body settled before you grabbed at the steaming cup. taking a sip you realised you’d never told iwa how many sugars you preferred, and after asking him, you watched his faint blush bloom under the harsh light of the t.v. screen. “heh, i don’t know...just noticed it, i guess.”

but as much as you loved the guys, there were just some things you couldn’t do with them. things that required a strictly girls-only day out.

“what do you mean we’re not allowed to come? i wanna go to the mall too!” mattsun whines, tugging at the sleeve of your cropped, button-up sweater, while you were bent over tying your laces.

“it’s a girl’s day out, emphasis on girl.” smacking his hand away, you straighten up; sending him the look your mother gives you when you’re being difficult. “so unless your little pee-pee grew into a powerful vagina, you’ll be staying home.”

“but makki’s practically a girl too!” the couch cushion that flew into his face was true to its aim, the swift whack shutting mattsun up.

“fuck off, little dick.” makki grumbled, lanky figure draped over the couch; sans aforementioned couch cushion that was covering his face before. mattsun tried to throw the pillow back at the pink-haired boy, but it was caught with ease. “we agreed to never bring that up again.”

“yeah well, y/n’s talking about some girl-time shit, like we didn’t take her to a strip club, filled with male strippers.” mattsun sasses back, crossing his arms with a smirk. “like makki didn’t get a lap dance from that guy-”

from the corner of your eye, the bulky figure entering the room catches your attention instantly. you could never get tired of eyeing up the way his shirt stretched around his fit body, how his sleeves cut a bit into his arms and knowing he could rip them up with a flex of his biceps. watching him walk up to you, the tightening of his navy blue gym shorts around his shaped thighs, had you mesmerised; dragging your gaze across the outline of his bulge, you swore it twitched just before he stopped near you.

“ready to go, y/n?” he offered a small smile, twirling his keys around his finger. at the sound of his voice, the other two boys halted their bickering over the strip club incident.

“oi iwa, no fair, are you going with y/n?!” mattsun interrogates, thick brows arched in question.

“i’m dropping her off.”

“oh.” makki chimes in. “out of everyone i thought you would be the one with the most complaints, iwa. just the other day when the two of you were together, i wanted to ask y/n for help with my project but you-”

“yeah, yeah that was the other day.” iwa cuts him off, and you couldn’t help but furrow your brows, wanting to know what makki was going to say. oh well, you’ll just get it out of him after. “c’mon y/n, you’ll be late meeting the girls.”

iwa was on his way to the front door when makki asked you what was so different about this trip to the mall that you didn’t want any of the boys to come along.

“i’m going to buy new lingerie, and i need their opinions.” you shrugged, grabbing your hand bag so you could follow iwa out.

busy with shoving your phone into your purse, and checking you had all of your essentials, you failed to notice the scheming look shared between mattsun and makki. or how iwa stood frozen by the door, hand tightly gripping the handle, until you bumped into his warm back.

“lingerie...hm, i wonder for who?”

at makki’s words you felt heat rise up in your face, as you rubbed at your nose.

“y/n~! you could’ve just asked me to come along! i would love to give my opinion!”

you’d never seen keys flying so fast through the air, finding their mark on mattsun’s forehead.

after spending twenty minutes pressing an ice pack to the growing bump on mattsun’s forehead, and listening to him trying to explain to an irritated iwa that he was just playing around; you’d finally left the apartment, and was nearing the bustling shopping district. iwa had been quiet, though not awkward, with only the mellow songs of his playlist, named after you, playing during the short drive. he flicked his indicator on, spotting the two girls waving at you from the sidewalk, and pulled over to the side.

“thanks for the ride, iwa.” you mumbled distractedly, admiring the veins in his tanned arm as he shifted the gear into park.

“anything for my pretty lady.” iwa lifts the corner of his mouth up into a sweet grin, olive green eyes flitting over you next to him. he doesn’t even realise he’d called you his pretty lady, and you press a hand to your heated cheek; ignoring your friends cooing and pointing at the two of you. “do you need some money? are you gonna be warm?” he leans closer to you, putting his arm behind your seat as he searches through his gym back in the back. the intoxicating smell of his cinnamon cologne invades your senses. “i’ll give you my jacket, just let me find it.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics, grabbing his bicep to stop him, giving it a firm, very self-indulgent squeeze. “iwa.” you called out to him. he turned to look at you, wide eyed and so fucking adorable. “you’re acting like my mom.” 

his handsome features relaxed as he released an airy laugh. “well i love your mom, so i’m fine with that.” he pulled his arm from behind you, jacket in his grip, though not in a way to make you let go of his arm.

“i still can’t believe she messages you to make sure i’m eating right.” you groaned, still squeezing his arm playfully. “and stop trying to give me money, it’s like you want to be my sugar daddy or something.”

iwa’s arm tenses under your touch as he processes your words. “alright, time for you to go.” you manage to catch the bright blush dusting his cheeks; your hand reaching out to pinch them yet all you feel is the material of his jacket as he shoves it into your arms. “get out, your friends are waiting for you.”

you pout at his dismissal; but with the way he was so flustered, scratching the back of his neck and hiding his pretty eyes, you decide to let him off easy 

“‘kay, fine~” you drawled in a sing-song voice.

making a show of collecting your things together, you dramatically tugged your seat belt loose; reaching for the door but halting in your actions when the weight of his large hand, dropped on top of your head. allowing him to angle your head to face him, he gifted you with a soft smile that had you ready to melt into the passenger seat. 

“be safe, alright?” your eyes blinked with each gentle pat on your head - once, twice, thrice - most likely ruffling your hair you’d spent a good amount of time on. “now go, text me and i’ll pick you up later.”

puffing your cheeks, you nodded as he squeezed your scalp affectionately. unlocking the door, you stepped outside into the cool air, wrapping iwa’s big jacket over your shoulders as goosebumps rose underneath the thin material of your sweater. bumping the door closed with your hip, you bent at the waist and stuck your head through the open window 

“bye, iwa.” your lips pressed together in a shy smile.

he mirrored your smile. “see you later, pretty lady.”

walking away, tugging the collar of his jacket closer, you could feel his eyes following after you. only half-listening as the girls teased you, hooking their arms through yours to walk through the entrance of the mall; you glanced back once more to see iwa stick a hand out and wave, before driving off once you disappeared from his view.

steam whirled up and around iwa, as a contented sigh escaped his parted lips. stood underneath the spray of warm water, he felt the tension begin to evaporate from his taut muscles 

iwa’s gym sessions, as of late, had been rather extreme. well, it had been this way for a couple of months now, ever since he had met you. he had to overwork his body, send it into overdrive and power through the fatigue - it was the only way to release some of his pent up frustration. the frustration that came with crushing on you, and not acting on it.

you were so fucking gorgeous to him, and you were so damn sweet. every part of his being was steadily entangling itself around your presence, and he had no idea how to stop it. not that he would even want to try. when you were nearby, his ears would begin to twitch at the sound of your voice, searching for you; and when you touched him, wrapping your delicate fingers around his arm to steady yourself, or poking your fingers at his back absentmindedly while teasing his roommates, he could feel his skin tingle all over. but it was when you would look up at him, sparkles in your beautiful eyes, that iwa knew he was a goner.

you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger, and he just wanted to make you his. have you in his arms…and bury himself so deep inside you-

“fuck.”

he shut off the shower with a bit more force than necessary. this was exactly the reason why he’d been visiting the gym more, working out for longer, because his mind was plagued with thoughts of you under him.

especially after seeing you in your cute outfit today. he feared that you’d catch his eyes lingering too long on the exposed skin of your tummy, or trying to memorise the curve of your lush thighs in those jeans. hell, he could barely say anything to you on the drive to the mall, tongue running dry with you so close to him.

with a huff, he carefully stepped out of the shower; wrapping his fully white towel around his hips, and moving into his room. kicking the door closed behind him, he made his way towards his side table just in time for his phone to go off.

grabbing the device and waiting a second for the facial recognition to process; he was surprised to see it was an instagram notification from you. expecting another food porn post, he was dead wrong; with absolutely nothing that could’ve prepared him for what greeted his eyes.

“holy,” he collapsed onto his bed, holding his phone to his face. “fuck.”

you...you-

“fuck!” he growled out.

you’d sent him a photo in your new lingerie, albeit it was most likely by accident, but there you were modelling your new all-pink set. the one he had 'chosen’.

with your arms raised above your head, brushing your hair over your shoulders, the stretched out pose accentuated the curve of your breasts, almost spilling out from the strapped confines of your bra. could he even call it that? it was all studded belt straps and buckles, that matched the thick choker-collar around your lithe neck, and it was not helping his current situation. grazing his eyes lower, a thin belt was clipped around your waist, before a sliver of skin lead downwards to the skinny, almost sheer, material of your panties. it was high waisted, dipping behind your wide hips and the teasing curve of your ass. and then your thighs, fuck how he wanted his face to be squeezed between them. thigh-high stockings dug into your plush thighs, squished out from the way you were sitting on your rug.

leaning back onto his bed, iwa was tempted to check if his heart was still beating, if he was even breathing at this point. but he did check, and he was alive; and the blood circulating his body was currently flowing straight to his groin.

the sight of you, so fucking pretty in pink, was burned into his mind forever.

under his palms the prickling sensation spread across his fingers, itching to relieve himself. one hand trailed across the panes of his abdomen, while the other grabbed at his phone; though it almost went flying out of his hand when it started vibrating and your contact photo flashed on his screen.

“shit.” he cursed, clearing his throat and trying to even out his breathing. he accepted the call after a moment. “hello?”

“iwa?!” at the sound of your voice he could feel his dick twitch, and he clenched his teeth together; annoyed at himself. he needed to get a grip. “oh my god, iwa, i am so sorry!”

‘no, i’m sorry that i want to fuck you so bad right now.’ is what he wants to say. “it’s...fine, y/n.” is what he manages to get out.

he hears you chuckle a bit awkwardly on the other end of the line. “shit, i’m so embarrassed right now.” you confess. “i meant to send that to the girls…”

“you don’t have to be embarrassed.” if anyone was to embarrassed it was him. he’d spent months pining after you, and now here he was lying on his bed aching to touch himself to you, towel fisted in his free hand. “you’re beautiful, y/n.” at least that managed to come out right.

“thank you, iwa...i only realised what happened when i was about to send another showing the back!” you laughing at your antics fell deaf on his ears, when the thought of your ass seized control of his mind.

how often had he admired the shape of you the past few months. daydreaming of the way you’d feel in his big hands, silky skin dug into by his long fingers, cheeks jutting out between them. he wanted to hold your ass in the palms of his hands, squeeze and tease you...his hips buck up, grinding against the cotton of the towel and a loud groan escapes his mouth.

“oh- iwa? are you okay?” you asked him, so innocently. he couldn’t take it anymore.

“i’m good...i just- something’s come up,” he hissed out, glancing down at the red tip of his cock peeping up at him. “i’ll call you later.”

“oh, of course! sorry again iwa, hehe, i’ll delete the photo. talk soon!”

his eyes shut at the sound of your giggle, free hand already rubbing himself. “bye.”

ending the call and moving the phone away from his face, he stared at the photo again, thumb hovering over the ‘save’ option, before pressing yes. he’d keep it locked away just for him, a treasured piece of you in his gallery. starting to stroke himself to your perfect body, he waited for the notification that you had deleted the photo from the conversation.

but it never came, though he did, and the photo remained buried under new food posts sent from you.

yet it wasn’t til a few weeks after that iwa began to think that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as much of an accident as you made it out to be.

© 2020 AIIWA. please do not copy, modify or repost my work.

[potatoes-is-are-food]

Made For Each Other [Part 1]

~4500 words (I may have gone a little overboard I just really love poly erasermic)

Yandere erasermic x reader / soulmate au 

| NSFW warnings: noncon, threesome, vague threats of violence

I’m gonna be putting this into parts (I’m thinking around 3?)

The first few weeks had been especially bad. Waking up with a chain connecting you to the floor in a bed that wasn’t yours in clothes that weren’t yours had been terrifying. You’d been scared of your captor, Shota Aizawa, to the point of tears at first, but now you were sitting on a barstool in his kitchen watching him make dinner.

“Hizashi is coming back tomorrow. You’ll have to get used to him being around, too,” he said, capturing your attention away from the book he’d given you, “He’s loud and excited to see you, but I’ll try to keep him calm.” You nodded when he looked at you, turning back to adjust something on the stove. You weren’t allowed all the way in the kitchen yet, but he said if you behaved you’d be able to soon.

“Wait, Present Mic? Why is he coming here?” You asked when he didn’t elaborate.

“He’s my husband,” he answered flatly. You furrowed your brow, but didn’t question it out of politeness. You nearly laughed at yourself aloud, worrying about being polite to someone who literally kidnapped you.

It had been on your way home from work. You got off the train at your usual station but much later than usual, having to stay late that day. Walking home didn’t seem too dangerous since you lived in a safe area, but that had been a terrible decision. Before you could process what was happening someone had come up behind you, dragged you into an alley while you kicked and attempted to scream, and been shoved to the pavement.

You’d taken some hard hits from your assailant when Eraserhead saved you, tying the guy who attacked you to the dumpster and scooping you up just as you lost consciousness. The newspaper you’d seen the other day said you were missing and there were no leads. There was a separate article about how a vigilante had tied some petty criminal to a dumpster but he still died from his injuries. How convenient.

Realizing you’d been staring at the same page for several minutes, you sighed and closed your book. You set it on the counter and leaned back, boredly swinging your legs and listening to the music Shota had put on. You didn’t recognize it, but every now and then he would hum along for a second.

He set a plate in front of you and handed you a glass of water, watching you carry both to the couch and taking his own to join you. It had become a routine in the last week that you’d both sit on the couch together and he’d put on something to watch while you ate. It was an unspoken agreement that you’d talk to him if he wanted and he wouldn’t touch you or stare you down.

You glanced at him, settling into the cushions and trying to relax. He still made you nervous, but he hadn’t done anything to hurt you, just threatened to chain you up again if you tried to get away, which you hadn’t. He scared you way too much to try before you knew you could get away with absolute certainty.

He settled on some sit-com you knew he didn’t care about, signaling he’d want to talk today. You moved your food around with a spoon (he wasn’t allowing forks or knives yet but also used a spoon in solidarity), waiting for him to say something. He didn’t.

“It’s good,” you said softly, fidgeting a bit awkwardly. His intimidating presence chilled you, making you want to subdue anger he probably didn’t even have. You quickly added, “Thank you.” He grunted in response, shuffling slightly closer to you.

“Y/n, eat all of that and drink all your water. I’ve been lenient until now but you’re going to have to eat more and stay hydrated now. You’re going to have rules now,” he said sternly, sliding your glass a little closer to you. Obediently you took a sip and another bite of your food, letting him continue as you chewed,

“You’re sleeping in my bed from now on,” he took a sip of his drink nonchalantly as you looked away, feeling blood rush into your face. The most he’d touched you was to pat your head a few days ago and that had made you jump. He continued, unaffected by your flustered disposition,

“I wanted to give you more time first so I won’t get mad if you slip up, but ‘Zashi coming home sooner than planned changes things,” he explained softly, bringing his hand up to stroke your hair. Your breathing sped up and you resisted the urge to get up and run.

“Why…” you breathed, finally looking at him with tear-filled eyes. One spilled down your cheek and his finger gently caught it, wiping it away.

“You can’t see it, but I’ve got a red string on my wrist attached to you and Hizashi. And he had our names on his arm. Didn’t you notice yours before now?” He arched a brow at you, watching as your eyes widened almost comically.

“I…” you thought back to when you first could see colors. You’d been young, only 12 when you’d been saved by Present Mic, but in all the chaos of the villain attack you couldn’t tell who was the cause and you were too young for it to matter. Your second mark was on the back of your neck, a timer counting down to when you’d meet your other soulmate. Since you couldn’t see it and had been preoccupied the past several weeks, you’d forgotten how close it was to hitting zero.

“We’re all made for each other, kitten,” his face had been slowly approaching yours as you’d had your epiphany, now centimeters away. More tears fell down your face, too shocked to move as he kissed them away. You couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him, unconsciously leaning into his touch. He placed another kiss to the very edge of your lips and a final one to your forehead before leaning back, taking the plate you were very close to dropping and setting it on the coffee table.

“B-but then why-” your voice trembled and caught in your throat. You choked back a sob, clenching your hands in your lap. You felt sick, the dinner your soulmate had made threatening to come back up. Your head felt fuzzy, like you’d been drinking.

“We had to, sweetheart,” he cooed, wrapping an arm gently around your tense form, “you thought it was a good idea to walk home alone at night, your job was stressing you out, and you wrecked your car not too long ago. You need us to take care of you and getting attacked was the perfect opportunity,” he pushed some of your hair out of your face.

You crumbled, sobbing and letting him hold you, so desperate for comfort that you actually clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and crying into his neck. You couldn’t see it, of course, but he was smiling as he swiped his fingers soothingly along the timer on the back of your neck that would be at 00:00 forever.

When you calmed down he handed you your water, rubbing your back as you finished it and leaving you on the couch to take the dishes away. You sniffled and let him pick you up, carrying you into the bathroom and getting ready for bed together in a daze. You even let him change your clothes, settling into bed pliantly as you figured out that he probably put sedatives in the food.

The next morning you woke to Shota’s warmth pressed against your back, an arm slung around your waist. You sat up, nearly falling over again groggily. You turned to look at him and saw his eyes open, locking onto you instantly.

“Hey there,” he husked, his morning voice catching you off guard. You pursed your lips, scooting away from him slightly,

“Did you drug me, Aizawa?” You crossed your arms, moving to sit on top of the covers and create some distance. He groaned softly, sitting up,

“Don’t call me Aizawa.” His reminder made your face heat up. He’d let you get by with awkward “hey”s and tapping his shoulder, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t be doing that anymore.

“Did you?” You press, voice a little softer in an attempt to accommodate him. He blinked at you, waiting. You relented, “...Shota?” His expression softened.

“I couldn’t have you running off. Besides, you needed a good night’s sleep. I know you’ve been tossing and turning,” he shrugged, stretching and standing up. You took his hand when he extended it to you, still a little “softened” by whatever he’d dosed you with.

He lead you into the bathroom he’d been having you use, completely idiot-proofed with no way to hurt yourself or anyone else or an escape route. And with all that he still made you keep the door open, doing stuff on his phone while you did whatever you had to do. You saw him pull up a messaging app as you entered, running the shower and stripping, shyly glancing at him often to reassure yourself he wasn’t watching.

When you got out he gave you something new to wear, an actual dress instead of one of their shirts. You didn’t question where he’d gotten it, simply thanking him quietly and putting it on when he turned around to give you the illusion of privacy. He hadn’t given you anything to wear under it, though.

“Um, Shota?” You called, looking everywhere but directly at him. He turned around, looking you over and giving your head a pat. You shuffled your bare feet awkwardly, “Can I have something to wear under it?” His hand rested on your waist lightly, eyes roaming your figure leisurely.

“I’ll have to go out and buy you some. Hizashi bought this a while ago when we figured out your identity,” he smiled, probably recalling a fond memory with his husband. Your other soulmate. You really didn’t want to admit it, but it felt nice that someone had been so excited to meet you that they’d gotten you a gift.

He made breakfast, insisting for the first time that you sit on his lap to eat. The day was mostly uneventful, you read and Shota let you make tea while he supervised. By six you were sitting at the bar in front of the kitchen, watching him chop vegetables.

You almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the door open, Shota eyeing you to make sure you wouldn’t try to run.

“Babe?” You heard Hizashi call, recognizing his voice easily from all the times you’d listened to him since you’d been there and even before.

“In here,” Shota called back, still tending to dinner. You looked at him for direction but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care to give it. Footsteps sounded behind you and you spun in your stool, facing your other soulmate for the first time since he’d saved you as a child. He dropped his bags, keys, and a water bottle he’d been holding, jaw dropping as he stared at you.

“Sho you didn’t,” he breathed, and for the briefest of moments you thought he’d be against this and rescue you again, but that was not the case.

“Happy anniversary,” Shota appeared, pulling the blonde in for a kiss. Hizashi tore his eyes from you and cupped the other man’s face as he repeated the expression. They really looked in love.

“She’s even more beautiful in person!” He beamed, closing the distance between you so fast if you’d blinked it would have seemed like he teleported. He immediately pressed his lips to yours, holding you tightly as you weakly struggled, tugging his sleeves and making muffled protests against his mouth.

“’Zashi, calm down, I haven’t trained her and I’ve barely touched her,” Shota placed a hand on his shoulder and he pulled away, leaving you panting and slightly panicked in his grasp.

“Aw, come on, Sho,” he whined, continuing to hold you against him, “She seems like a good girl she probably barely needs any training,” his hand stroked your hair and he pressed his cheek against the top of your head. You gave Shota a wide eyed look,

“Trained?” You asked nervously, squirming a little in Hizashi’s arms. Shota’s tired expression morphed into something more devious, the corner of his lips twitching up,

“We need to be sure you’re not gonna run off on us, kitty,” he cooed, “We need to…” he paused, searching for the right word, “house train you, so to speak.” His tone made you nervous, shrinking into the arms holding you.

Shota pecked your cheek and returned to the stove, giving the food a stir and asking about Hizashi’s trip so casually you’d think he hadn’t just implied something sinister. Hizashi picked you up, sitting in your stool and pulling you into his lap as he chatted with his husband. You fiddled with the hem of your dress and vaguely wondered if they intended on getting a special license to add you into the marriage as they did for people with multiple soulmates. You really hoped things wouldn’t get that far.

A hand trailed along your thigh, massaging the soft flesh and making your dress ride up a bit. You shifted, pressing your knees tightly together and making sure it didn’t go too high as another settled on your waist, gently rubbing up and down, dangerously close to your breast. You were suddenly very aware of your lack of underwear, nipples pebbling and sticking out against the fabric. You shuddered.

“I picked this out for you, doll,” he said quietly, breath tickling your ear before he stooped and planted several light kisses on your neck, “Do you like it?” You writhed slightly, but stopped immediately when you heard his breath hitch and felt something stir under you.

“Please…” you whispered, trying to plead with him the way you had Shota, whose head snapped around to send you a look that had tears instantly welling in your eyes.

“Y’n,” he said, staring you down. You sniffled, brows knitting together as you fought a sob.

“It’s fine, Sho,” Hizashi said calmly, stroking your shoulder and kissing the top of your head, “sweet little girl just needs some guidance, isn’t that right?” his voice dripped condescension and he pinched your cheeks, chuckling lightly as his had whetted with tears.

Shota sighed, “Tell ‘Zashi you liked the dress,” he started plating the food, leaving Hizashi to comfort you. He seemed to enjoy the task, wiping your face and kissing your temple. You told him you liked the dress.

You let him dote on you, clamming up when his hands wandered to uninvited places. You were seated in his lap again in the dining room as you all ate, the two men making light conversation and Shota telling his husband how he’d kidnapped you and your progress from terrified mute to scared yet willing to seek comfort from your captors.

“She’s done well, overall. I think once we solidify things it’ll go even faster. We could probably start making wedding preparations by October,” Shota discussed you casually, like he was telling Hizashi about the weather. Like you weren’t there.

“Wedding...preparations?” You asked nervously, picking at your food with a fork for the first time since you’d been stripped of freedom.

“Of course,” he continued, giving you a slight smile, “you’re our soulmate.” They discussed plans to get you more clothes, making you tense as taking your measurements was discussed. When you finished dinner, Shota cleared the table and tended to the dishes, leaving you alone with Hizashi for some bonding time.

“And if you want, we could do a destination honeymoon,” he rambled, ignoring your borderline catatonic state as you stared off into space, sinking further and further into a mental space you didn’t understand. Wedding? Honeymoon? How long would it be before you’d be able to escape?

“You’re gonna overwhelm her,” Shota’s soothing voice came from behind. He patted your head when you turned to look at him, taking note of the way your eyes looked a little glossier than usual, “Come on, we should head to bed. You must be tired.”

Hizashi grabbed his bags, following as Shota took your hand and lead you back into the bedroom. You sat on the bed, yawning as you realized constantly being made to go to bed so early had you tired already. You expected them to toss you another big t shirt and a pair of sweats too tall for you, but instead Shota pulled you up so you were standing in front of them.

“Are we going to bed?” You eyed the dresser, unsure if they wanted you to choose or something. Hizashi snorted, working the buttons of his shirt open as Shota turned you around to unzip the back of your dress. He ran his hand down the bare skin of your back, sliding the fabric forward off your shoulders.

Your hands shot up, pinning the covering to your chest as your breathing sped up,

“Shota?” you looked back at him over your shoulder as he rubbed along your skin. He didn’t answer, pressing his lips to your shoulder and gently coaxing the dress down until it bunched around your ankles on the floor. Your lip trembled as you tried to cover yourself with your hands, arms crossing your chest.

“So pretty,” he murmured against your shoulder, sliding his hands up your sides and gently tugging at your arms. Tears spilled onto your cheeks as Hizashi joined, stripped to his boxer briefs, dropping to his knees in front of you. He kissed the center of your chest just below your breasts, hands settling on your hips. You shook your head,

“Please don’t,” you whimpered, “d-don’t look,” you crossed your legs, arms locked against your chest as Shota rubbed them, attempting to get you to drop them yourself.

“But you’re so beautiful, angel,” Hizashi spoke softly, trailing kisses down your stomach while Shota wiped your tears away and pulled you gently into a kiss. It was the first time you’d kissed him properly, and the sense of fulfillment that settled into your chest made you both gasp against each other, making you melt a little.

Hizashi’s lips trailed along your hips, not wanting to distract you from kissing Shota. When your mouths parted you felt warm, nearly sinking into his adoring gaze before remembering how he’d kept you chained, cold and alone as you screamed and cried in that room. He must have sensed your conflict, kissing you again before trailing down your neck and giving Hizashi’s jaw a little tap.

Lips departed your hips as the blonde stood, leaning down to kiss both your tear-stained cheeks and then your lips, the jolt from him significantly less intense thanks to him pouncing on you earlier. It still felt good, though, as much as you hated to admit it. His hands cupped your face and without thinking you placed yours over them. You felt Shota move lower, caressing your hips and kissing along your back, lingering where it dipped at your waist.

You squeaked, flinching away from Hizashi as you felt Shota’s hands kneading your ass, spreading and squeezing your cheeks. Your arms wrapped around Hizashi’s neck as you tried to wriggle out of the other man’s grasp. He chuckled, holding your hips still for his partner rather than helping. You whined, burying your face in his neck as fresh tears fell onto his skin. He rubbed a hand soothingly along your back as Shota continued, kissing and then biting the flesh.

You sniffled, breathing shakily and hard into Hizashi’s neck, fingers tangling in his loose hair. He shushed you like a child, hugging you close and nearly groaning at your breasts being pressed flush against his chest.

“Maybe we should’ve given her wine at dinner, Sho,” he said softly, brows furrowed as you sobbed softly on him, “She’s nervous, aren’t you love?” Gently, he pried your arms from around him, leaning back to look at you.

“She’ll be fine, taking both of us so close together will probably help a lot,” Shota stood, sweeping your legs and making you fall into his arms. He deposited you onto the bed, licking his lips and kissing you heatedly, lapping at the inside of your mouth. You groaned against him, holding onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself.

Hizashi tugged at Shota’s shirt, making him break your kiss to let him remove it. He straddled you, pressing his bare chest to yours and resuming his tongue’s exploration of your mouth. You whimpered, feeling him shifting atop you as Hizashi rid him of his clothes, placing a playful smack to his ass once it was bare. You felt his cock, hot and heavy, tap against your thighs, making you clench them together and sob against Shota’s lips.

He leaned back, wiping the trail of saliva that followed away, and crawled off of you. Settling behind you, he pulled you up into a sitting position so you rested against his chest, instantly grabbing and pinning your arms as you tried to cover yourself. He kissed your head, murmuring little praises as his husband pried your legs apart, settling between them to take in the view as close as possible. You writhed, Hizashi pinning your legs as you struggled, openly sobbing,

“Please don’t do this,” his face as he gazed at your twitching, wet pussy looked euphoric. He inhaled deeply, eyes rolling back at your scent.

“Sho, she smells good enough to eat. And she’s wet,” he smirked, swiping his finger along your slit and holding up the glistening digit for his accomplice. Shota groaned in your ear, trapping both your wrists in one hand and kneading at your breast with the other.

“Eat her, then,” he growled, husky voice making your back arched a little involuntarily.

Your soulmate obliged, not needing to be told twice as he closed the distance, flattening his tongue and smearing your juices up to your clit. You cried out, trying to wriggle away as he circled his tongue around the little bud. It was like he already knew how to make you tick, flicking his wet appendage along every spot that made you squirm and hitting your sweet spot the second his fingers penetrated you. In seconds you were moaning, tears drying on your face as you bucked your hips against him.

Shota flicked and toyed with your nipples, leaving your hands free. You reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging it as the pleasure continued to build. You groaned his name and then Hizashi’s, occasionally still babbling for them to stop. Your orgasm sent waves of the most intense pleasure you’d ever felt jolting through your body, making you writhe and cry out as your soulmate lapped up your fluids.

You started to cry again as he continued past the point of pleasure and into painful territory, fingers leaving black locks to pull at blonde ones. He groaned, pumping his fingers faster and harder into your throbbing heat and flicking his tongue harshly against your overstimulated nub. You came again, muttering incoherently as he slowed to a stop, leaning back and wiping his face with a satisfied grin.

“She’s so cute,” his hand trailed up your thigh, “You should try,” he told Shota, watching your cunt twitch and chest heave.

“Later,” you looked up to see him licking his lips and watching you heatedly. You shuddered, sniffling as he wiped away a stray tear. Noticing Hizashi watching, you closed your legs, sitting up and bringing your knees to your chest.

“Are we done?” Your voice came out quiet and coarse, a little shaky as your eyes continued to flood. You bit your lip, looking between the men.

“Not quite, kitten,” Shota’s lips pressed to your back, working up between your shoulder blades and sucking when he reached your neck. He left several bites and hickeys as his husband cupped your face, kissing you softly and slipping his tongue past your lips. You whimpered against him as Shota abused the sweet spot on your collarbone, one hand on your thigh and the other in Hizashi’s hair.

He broke the kiss, planting another soft one on your forehead, “How did you hold back so long, Sho?” he breathed, nuzzling his face against your hair and sighing happily as Shota pecked his lips.

“Wanted to let you go first,” he murmured, kissing him again before readjusting you to the same position as before, resting against his chest with your wrists in his hands, “go ahead.”

Hizashi pulled your hips forward a touch, spreading your legs with his knee and spreading his pre against your weeping slit. His tip against your clit made you twitch, back arching as he toyed with the sensitive nerves. When he’d finished he lined up with your entrance, pressing in slowly to avoid overwhelming you.

Your mouth opened and your eyes clenched shut, head falling back against Shota as he pushed in, inch by inch sliding in until he was buried to the hilt and his hair pressed against you. He groaned sinfully, humping shallowly as you got used to his size. A choked sob left your throat as he started thrusting, pulling out nearly all the way and sliding back in as gently as he could manage when your cries made you pulse around him.

“You feel so good,” he panted, “Good girl,” his thrusts got rougher as he leaned forward, tongue slipping into your open mouth and swallowing your half-pained half-pleasurable moans. Shota let go of your wrists, stroking your hair as well as Hizashi’s as he took in the sight. With your arms free you desperately clung to the man pounding you into his husband, crying against his lips and swirling your tongue against his in a bizarre attempt at seeking comfort from him.

Shota’s fingers intruded on your kiss, collecting saliva from both of you and making it drip down your chins before moving the slicked digits to roll circles into your puffy clit. You gasped at the contact, eyes opening and rolling back into your head as the blonde broke the kiss, licking up the tears lingering on your cheeks. His hips sputtered, lewd squelching noises reverberating through the room as Shota continued his assault on your abused bead.

You came first, back arching, tongue flopped out of your mouth, eyes half-lidded and rolled up into your skull, head braced back against Shota’s chest as you spasmed, clenching around Hizashi’s cock and milking him for all he was worth. He released deep inside, cumming directly against your cervix and rolling his hips to hump against you, riding out both your orgasms. As it subsided, you fell limply against your dark-haired soulmate, completely spent and feeling as though you were floating, disconnected from reality. You felt hands caressing your thighs, hips, and gently pushing sweaty strands of hair from your face.

“...re so good for us,” you focused enough to take in their praises, still shaking as your cunt twitched and drooled Hizashi’s seed. You blinked a couple of times and saw him staring at it, reaching down to collect what was dripping and push it back in, making you whimper weakly. He licked his fingers clean and crawled over you to kiss Shota, both men shifting and gently readjusting you until you were pressed back against Hizashi’s chest. Shota settled between your legs, thumbs spreading your pussy apart for his inspection.

You felt fresh tears stinging your eyes, “Please… please no more,” you croaked, weakly squirming. He leaned down, kissing your inner thigh and inching closer to your fucked out hole.

“Shhh, kitten,” he gently licked up your folds, smearing Hizashi’s cum across your skin and making you flinch when the muscle flicked your overstimulated clit, “You can handle a little more for daddy, right?”