Note
what happens when sirius has long nails and wants to uhhhhh put his fingers in remus
he wears black disposable gloves - they keep a box of ‘em in the nightstand drawer.
#tbh i think sirius would only get like#medium length nails at the longest#but also if you’re careful you don’t even need gloves#just make sure the nails are almond shaped OR at least not pointy/no rough edges#welcome to dyke facts with esther#that are also applicable to sirius black#ppl with long nails can still fuck y’all need to get creative#sirius black#esther.txt
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Nanami Kento
TW: yandere, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, inexperienced reader, virginity loss, size-difference, abuse of power, lies and manipulation, captive darling, age-gap
AN: thinking about a pervy sex therapist Nanami~
fem reader
You started coming to his home office once a week.
Unsure of it all, in the beginning, you were so nervous. He looked so strict – sitting opposite you in his dark brown leather chair with such a tight expression on his face.
But you came around to like him soon enough.
He was a nice man. Serious but tender with you – putting out freshly baked muffins on the coffee table and always giving you a warm cup of chamomile with vanilla and honey before getting started.
And he was knowledgeable too – had that mature air about him that seemed so polished and proficient you couldn’t help but hang off every word like it was scripture.
When he told you to stop wearing bras because they hinder natural breast growth, you listened, and when he said that keeping your pussy hairless was important for hygienic purposes, you believed him because you trusted him.
He diagnosed you with virgin anxiety and has been so patient with you ever since, helping you overcome it.
Professional enough to practice with you. Sticking a gloved finger inside your pretty pussy when you’re propped on his examination bed, testing out your tightness with words reassuring you that you just need to wait and allow your body to provide the wetness – smiling at you kindly, that way old men do, more with his eyes than his lips, when you’re weeping with slick enough to accommodate all three of his lengthy fingers inside you – squeezing on him so tight.
You gush, shaking your head while spluttering apologies when you cum around them, but he just rubs your clit slowly, with veteran steadiness – telling you it's only natural and healthy for a young woman like you to be so sensitive under a man's touch – that it’s nothing to be ashamed or scared of – on the contrary, it’s something you should feel very proud of.
He’s also kind enough to give you extra sessions – at least three times a week at his home office – sometimes even breaking his own rules, treating you to a house call, coming to your apartment for a nice little chat.
He even assigns you daily exercises for you to do on your own – though he encourages you to call him so he can guide you through it. Instructing you to wet your fingers in your mouth first before you touch yourself down there.
He listens to your little moans filtered through the phone – bated breaths and whimpers as you get yourself all bothered and needy for more.
He tells you to turn on the camera so he can see if you’re doing it right, and you listen – placing the phone in view of your tiny fingers struggling to reach and stuff your cute cunt.
He praises you on your good job – his own camera off, for obvious reasons – he can't have you seeing his raging shaft just yet, or how he jerks it to the sight of your tight little cunt. A deep furrow between his brows and his jaw locked tight, resolute in his plans of coaxing you into giving him your first time. He groans just thinking about it, splurting his load into his fist, listening to you moan for him. “This feels funny, Nanami-san~ Is this right? ~ Please, Nanami-san, teach me~”
He's been coveting your virginity for months now – grooming you – making you pliant and gullible, and soon, all his patience and hard work would pay off.
It’s cute that you don’t know it yet… but your pretty little pussy is all his.
He expertly works it into your sessions as an exercise. One he promises you’ll benefit from. Telling you your condition can be blamed on never having studied a real grown man’s cock – that, because it’s such a foreign thing to you, you end up fearing it.
He reminds you how this is a safe space – tells you that all he cares about is your wellbeing – as he sets himself next to you on the couch, his thick thigh next to yours, while buckling up his belt and zipping himself free – taking his fat erection out for you to lay your innocent eyes on.
“Here it is.” He clears his throat with a rusty sigh, sounding relieved when his manhood springs free, standing proud and fat.
His veins flex along his arm beneath dark blonde hair as he strokes the length lazily – up and down slowly. Making old noises – heavy sighs and hums – dragging the foreskin back and revealing its plush mushroomed head.
You take it in with doe eyes.
“Don’t be shy. Tell me your thoughts.”
You swallow thickly at the assignment, blinking out of your stare. Shocked and embarrassed, though curious, but also a little grossed out – you’re not sure what feeling you end up with. “Uhm- It’s very… big.”
He chuckles low at that. “Come on, you can do better. What else?” He urges you, offering another deep but light-hearted laugh. “You can be honest. It’s a little funny looking, huh?”
“Yeah-” You giggle lightly in return, though you’re still somewhat uneasy – sitting as though you plan on leaving, but staying nonetheless, at the edge of your seat – eyes glued to the chubby member, studying the curve of its spine and the veins forking their way up to its head.
“Feel up to touching it?” He asks, and your eyes snap to his – lined with crow’s feet and something so trustworthy.
But still, you promptly shake your head in embarrassment. “Oh- no, thank you, Nanami-san-” But he’s already taken your smaller hand in his, pulling you back by guiding it to his lap.
“No, no, little one- this is what we've been training for. You won’t get better if you don’t try.” He scolds you, voice both dismissive and reassuring all at once. “Here- feel it.”
He wraps your tiny fingers around the stout shaft and overlaps your hand with his, helping you find the rhythm – stroking it nice and slow.
“There you go, just like that. Good.”
You hesitate at first. Giving your lip a soft bite while thinking about his previous words.
Was he right? Are you scared because you've never looked at or touched a real penis before?
You don't want to be a virgin forever – it's embarrassing as an adult – it makes you still feel like such a silly little girl.
So... if Dr. Nanami says that this will help you overcome your fears, then you suppose...
You'll do it.
You gulp and follow his movement – up and down the large and lengthy pole.
It's so warm – pulsing in your grip, twitching at your soft touch. Skin so thin, almost rubbery, holding something much tougher than you’d imagined.
In your hand, it’s a lot bigger as well. You can’t even reach your fingers around the thickness to touch your thumb.
“All of this goes inside me?” You ask, under your breath – swallowing thickly while he leads your dainty hand downward into the hair around his base, then up to the wet tip, which pilled and trickled with white pearls getting caught between your fingers – warm and sticky.
“That’s right, every inch.” He answers – voice relaxed – pleased by how well you were doing. “Does that scare you?”
You bite your lip and rub your thighs together. “A little…”
“But it makes you feel a little warm, too, hm?” He suggests. “Makes your mouth wet? And also, that soft place between your legs?”
You make a nervous sound, digging your nails into your knee, where you let your other hand rest awkwardly.
He hums again with a soft chuckle. “Don’t be embarrassed, little one. It’s a good thing.” He ensures, encouragingly squeezing your hand underneath his while lifting the other up to your face, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear – before sliding it across the back of your neck. “Let's see you be brave and give it a taste.”
You hesitate again – this time a little more decidedly. “I don’t think I can-” But Dr. Nanami is strong, keeping your neck in a pinch as he guides you down into a bow.
“It’s alright, I’m here to help you. Just open your mouth, and I’ll show you how.” He insists soothingly. Spreading his thighs out further while laying your head down on his lap, hips moving languidly when brushing his shaft up between your lips.
It’s so big, so hot, pumping with warmth where you kiss it on the side on a particularly fat and throbbing vein.
He lifts you up slightly and angles the tip into your mouth, creating a cute bulge in your cheek where he rests his hand to keep you down when you flinch at the salty tang getting caught by your saliva. The taste quickly coats your entire tongue.
“Mmh- that’s a big girl~ getting her first mouthful of cock.” Dr. Nanami sighs with a groan, dropping his head back against the couch cushions while pushing up into the pouch of your cheek in lazy thrusts. It strains – makes you feel like it might poke through and make a hole.
He lets it settle there for a moment, enjoying the wet warmth and the unsure movements of your sweet tongue – not knowing where to go with all the space occupied by his meat.
But then he tangles both hands in your hair, gathering it all into a neat ponytail. And, lifting your skull up directly above, he sends his cock down your guzzle even when you whine out in meek protest.
“Breathe through your nose and try your best to swallow it down as far as your throat allows.” He instructs, keeping a tight-knit grip around your hair in one fist whilst the other hand slides down to pet your cheek in soothing circles.
Forcing it down your tight little amateur throat even when your jaw feels like it’s unlocking.
“Good girl.” He sighed once he’d wedged himself in all the way until your lips kissed the pubes at his base.
Your smaller hands dent the muscle of his thigh, offering a meager push. Mewing out a “Mrph-” while you gag around the trunk.
He holds you there, roosting inside your throat for another satisfying moment before easing up, pulling you up by your pony.
You gasp, halfway choked on your spit – but he's not much concerned.
“Stand up- let me feel.” He rushes out in a stiff order, ignoring how you cough and slurp for air – forcing you up to stand between his knees.
His firm hands plant themselves on your hips, being the only sturdy thing balancing you as you wobble – unsteady when he tugs your skirt and panties down until they drop into a pool around your ankles.
He then pulls you onto his lap – seating you with your back leaning against his chest with his cock gliding up through your inner thighs, rubbing against your bare cunt.
You’re still light-headed, bracing yourself against his broad chest while he keeps one thick arm strong around your waist – holding you snug. The other jerks his manhood, tapping it against your clit in soft spit-wet slaps.
“Let’s see how it feels inside you.” He grunts against your ear, resting his chin-stubbled jaw in the dip between your neck and shoulder – looking to where he has your thighs spread over his own.
“N-no, Nanami-san-” You manage to squeak out softly with a voice both teary and hoarse from choking. “Please- I’m not ready-”
But he doesn’t listen – and any struggle you try to inflict ends up aimless where you’re barred beneath his arm – strict and tough with brawn like it’s a seatbelt on a rollercoaster ride.
“I think you're more than ready for it. Trust me.” He’s growling now – so menacingly, you don’t dare speak against it. Only watching the glossy veiny beast with bleary eyes while he rubs through your pussylips with the fat plush bulge topping it – catching your clit and making you gasp before zoning down to your pretty little twitchy hole.
You whine when it’s forced to stretch open as he nudges himself inside the pill-sized opening despite your effort to climb away from it.
“It hurts, Nanami-san!” You cry, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.
“Your virgin pussy will understand it soon. Don’t worry.” He dismisses – continuing to ease his thickness into the tautness, knowing you must be feeling close to tearing apart once his head’s finally swallowed in with a pop, followed by his inches bullying through you one by one, each feeling like a painful mile.
You cry out, nearly screaming, “Please, Nanami-san! Take it out- it’s too much-” worming on his lap, trying to wiggle it out.
But he has you under reigns, and your struggling only results in him sinking inside you faster. Now, so deep you feel him nuzzle against your womb – and still it keeps sleaving itself until it curves against your walls and pudges out in a cute belly bulge.
“We've trained for this. You need to allow your body the time it takes to get comfortable.” He coos, sounding less on edge now that you’ve taken him inside your comfort.
His chest rumbles with satisfaction against your back as he sits there relaxed, bouncing you slackly but not too much just yet.
He keeps you seated but lifts his other arm to tug off your tiny T-shirt.
“Here, let's take this off. It’ll help.” He excuses, and you’re a little too desperate for the relief to refuse – listening to the kindness in his voice and lifting your arms in hope, letting him fling it off.
Only in socks now. You throw your head back and whine when he twists one of your pretty nipples into a sore nub – chest arching from the contact. The arm holding you in place slides a hand between your thighs and starts circling your cute button, flicking over it with a gritty fingerprint.
The friction makes your belly bloom all sorts of colors, making you lock and quiver around that big thing he has nestled inside you, throbbing against your womb as he only gently bounces you on his lap – stretching your little pussy out generously as it suckles him so very sweetly – so very wet, drooling on his lap –squeezing him oh-so-snug.
You feel sticky after a while of twisting and refusing. Feeling so full and feverish. Neck wet from tongue and lips – so wet, spit is running slow trails down your chest, cool in the chilly open air of his home office.
You still think you want to stop, but you’re not as tense anymore – resting prettily against his chest. Moaning for each swirl he does over your budding clit – having quaked with pleasure a whole of three times already, gummy walls rippling all along his shaft as you softly loll your hips on him in return.
There’s a pool of your slick between the two of you – having drooled form where it seeps around the tight edges of where he has you stuffed air-tight, running down his balls to gloss the leather seat beneath.
He takes it as a sign that you’re ready for the real thing.
It’s almost unfair – how easily your smaller body is held in his hands. Maneuvered so effortlessly as he lifts your thighs up against your chest, then spreads them wide.
He hooks your knees on his elbows and braids his fingers behind your neck. It's an awkward position, but you’re completely locked in it. Unable to do a thing except wail with moans once he starts pistoning his fat man-cock up inside you.
It’s way worse when he stands up – bouncing you in the air – holding you folded against his chest, your legs dangling over his arms, jumping as he pounds his meat inside you, stuffing your cunt full on every deep thrust – stabbing your poor stomach until you’re screaming and squirting from the pressure.
Feeling you soak him is the last straw – so tight while spraying a hot mess.
He sits down again, lifting you off his cock before fanning your clit with four fingers – making you gush out every last drop, screaming while raining on his cock until you’ve strangled it out one final time – left shaking.
You’re then ushered down to the floor, on your knees – the top of your head leveled with Dr. Nanamis's big hand, keeping your face forward as he faps his sturdy thickness at your mouth.
“Open your mouth wide.” He orders, his teeth grit while his bulbing cockhead kisses your lips.
You listen when he gives your little head a shake – rolling your tongue out while dropping your jaw for him.
“That’s a good girl-” He praises, placing his tip on the wet bed of your soft pink tongue, giving his cock only a few more tugs before his balls clenched hard and sent a big fat load through his cock out into your pretty little open mouth.
He groans heavily, almost angrily, squeezing every spurt out – some coming out so heavy it spills up your face and down your chin – but mostly getting caught where you have your lips parted to receive it.
“Good girl.” He repeats, taking in the sight of your painted face – so cute covered in his cum.
He smiles.
“Now swallow it all down. And don’t waste a single drop. It's rich in vitamins young girls like you need to become proper ladies.”
You don’t want to close your mouth – you want to spit all of it out and rinse the rest with toothpaste and water. But the hand petting your head is so heavy, you don’t dare. So you swallow. Sniffling at the yucky taste once it sits warm in your stomach, still so sticky and gross on your tongue.
But Dr. Nanami seems pleased.
“Moving forward, I think you’ll benefit from closer examination.” He says. “I've made arrangements to have you institutionalized here, where I can keep a closer eye on you and offer more frequent assistance. You still have a long way to go before you’re well, little one. I’m not close to seeing the results I need in order to release you from my care.”
You’re still too shocked by the former events to look confused, but the sick feeling in your gut just keeps growing.
“Don’t worry. We’ll keep training, and soon I’ll have you turned into a proper little cock-pet.”
You want to run, but after what you’re body had just been put through, aching and screaming at you like it was your fault – you knew you wouldn’t be able to do much more than crawl, and something about the still fat cock resting its weight against Dr. Nanamis thigh told you he wasn’t done with you just yet.
“Give my cock some time to rest, and we’ll try it again later.” He confirmed your fears, still with his hand stroking your head like a pet at his feet. “Meanwhile, why don’t you tell me how your sweet pussy liked losing its virginity- and how this little face enjoyed getting its first-ever taste of cock and cum, hm?”
sequel
#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#yandere nanami#yandere nanami kento#yandere nanami x reader#yandere kento nanami#yandere kento#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#nanami smut#kento smut#nanami kento smut#kento nanami smut#jjk nanami#nanami kento#jujutsu kaisen#jjk kento#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu nanami
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pretty boy; bloody nose
fem!reader x bangchan
synopsis: you're a doctor at a hospital where Chan comes after a fight.
warnings: 🔞!!! boxer!chan, blood, broken bones, bruises, praise, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh riding if you squint, 'pretty girl' used once, choking (m!rec), prob forgot some sorry
wc: 4k
an: all the photos of chan at or for the Fendi show have me gagged lol feedback is appreciated!! :)) [m.list] check out my other chan fic :)) [am/pm]
It was your starting shift when Chan came in. clutching his bloody nose with one bruised hand and pressing his other one to his wounded side. “my savior,” he smiled, dimpled cheek prominent even through the pain. He had blood in his mouth, teeth tinted pink with it.
“Someone had a good night,” you laugh flipping open his chart, “says some minor pain but you seem to have lied seeing as you are currently bleeding right in front of me and you didn’t log it,”
“my nose is fine, it was checked out by my coach, it should stop bleeding soon,” the rag he has to his face soaked through with red. “and I’m not a liar it’s only a bit painful and I wouldn’t have come in if I wasn’t contractually supposed to,”
“uh huh,” you nod, tapping your pen against the clipboard you held. “So your nose doesn’t need to be set because your coach, who may or may not have any medical background, said so?”
his smile widened and the cut on his eyebrow started to leak again from the movement. “exactly,”
“and I don’t need to see what you’re hiding right there,” you point with your pen to his fingers cupping his hip.
“nope, I’m mainly a bit sore around the arms, so minor pain. I am not a liar,” he shrugs and you let yourself fully take him in past his injuries. He's slouched back against the hospital bed, his white tank splattered with his blood, gray sweatpants slouchy on his hips. if you could see his whole face without his hand in the way you’re sure he’s gorgeous essentially with a smile like that. what you didn’t like was to watch someone's cocky ass waltz in and say they aren’t hurt when it’s obvious they are.
“well I am also contractually obligated to give you the best care I can offer and as your doctor, I’m here to say I can’t let you go without an exam,”
“full body?” his tongue running across his teeth as you roll your eyes. it wasn’t exactly professional to let your annoyance show but you didn’t think he would run and tell someone.
“let's start with your nose,” you turn placing your clipboard down and picking up a pair of gloves, “lean your head back,”
Chan follows your orders as you walk around the bed to his side.
“How did you end up here?” you ask, lifting the rag from his face. His nose wasn’t bleeding as much as it must have been earlier but it was still messy. And even with blood smeared all over, he was one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen especially as he grinned up at you.
“fighting,” he shrugs.
“Is this the part where you tell me that I should see the other guy?” you reach over to grab some clean gauze before cleaning up his upper lip.
“Maybe,” he dragged out the word, the smile as flirty as ever.
you lightly press your finger to his nose to check if it’s broken but only feel a little swelling. “keep your head back to stop the bleeding. let's now see your side and then we will tape up your eyebrow,”
“I’m perfectly fine,”
“Not unless I say you are, come on let me see,”
Chan is slow to lift his shirt but when he does his side is covered in deep purple bruises. “you're going in for a CT,”
“what? no, I'm fine it was a few hits nothing I haven't felt before,”
“better safe than sorry I'm sure you've heard that saying before. next time don't go getting into fights,”
“It's kinda my job,”
“pretty boys like you shouldn't be fighters, and they shouldn't be putting their perfectly healthy bodies in distress, we need to check for any internal bleeding,” you peel your gloves off tossing them in the bin along with any bloodied gauze, chan's head still laid back as he watches you, “a nurse will be in to take care of your eyebrow and take you for the CT,” you pick up his chart, penning in the request.
“You're not going to take me?”
“I'll be back in to discuss the results it shouldn't be too long a wait it's slow tonight,” you didn't look up from his chart as you said it but you did when he said, “I want you to take me,” it's not suggestive in any way but the way that he says it is, deep and throaty like an invitation. his head lobbed to one side watching you, eyes leaving a trail of heat up your body as they trace your figure.
“I will see you after your results come back,” you say, rushing to get out as fast as possible. it was frowned upon to flirt with patients no matter how hot they looked or how willing they seemed to flirt back. you went on your rounds before getting Chan's results, the nurse bringing them to you with a smile.
“he will not stop talking about you,”
“What?” but you can feel your heart thumping all of a sudden.
“asking questions and whatnot,” she giggles as you pull out his scans. “Does she usually work Thursdays? Is she seeing someone? going on and on,”
“about me?” You're a little shocked but trying to play it off.
“if you don't give him your number I will hand mine over,”
“We cannot give our numbers out to patients,” but your blush is hot on your face. who would know you gave him your number? no one. “we will both be out shortly please have his discharge paperwork ready,”
“Should I put your number on it?” she jokes and you roll your eyes before pushing his room door open.
“no internal bleeding,” you say once you close the door. “but you should ice your side the swelling will go down soon,”
“I told you nothing was wrong, he couldn’t hit hard enough to cause internal bleeding anyways,” Chans sitting up now with his legs off the bed.
“you should be getting checked regularly for damage that is visible, especially if you have pain,”
“It was only a little pain,” he rolls his shoulders back making his tank top stick to his pecks.
“you should take an over the counter pain med and then try to avoid fighting,”
“Now where’s the fun in that? if I hadn’t been sent here I wouldn’t have met you,” dimples on display just for you.
“uh huh sure,” you wave at him to stand, “Let's get you out of here before you steal the hearts of the nurses,”
“the only heart I’m interested in is yours,” it’s cheesy but you can’t help the smile it gives you. “Let's go,” you laugh, pulling open the door for him. when he walks out he turns to face you moving backwards.
“if I got into another fight would I be able to ask for you specifically or would you need to give me a number to hold onto just in case?”
“flirty and shameless,” you say, walking him to the front desk to check out.
“that did not answer my question,”
“I’m sure you could find me in the hospital directory if you looked hard enough,”
“and if you’re not working? will it go straight to voicemail or will I somehow be able to get you over to take care of me?”
“for someone who didn’t need my help at all for his little bit of pain, he sure is worried for his safety now,”
“I was told by a gorgeous doctor that I should be concerned with putting my perfect body and pretty face in the line of fire,”
“I said you had a perfectly healthy body,” you shake your head at him.
“You did say my face was pretty tough,” he leans against the desk elbow propped up to the perfect height to flex. “And I'm sure I can show you how perfect my body can be,”
“goodbye Chan,” you wave your fingers in his direction walking away before you embarrass yourself in front of your coworkers.
-
It's only a week later when you see Chan's chart in front of you again. “This one was asking for you by name,” the nurse comments.
“of course he was,” but even as you say the words you can't help but feel the fluttering in your stomach. most people who came in you didn't see again and if they flirted you were happy to see them gone but Chan wasn't making you feel that way.
he was alone in his room when you went in. laid out on the bed with his hand to his nose. It was like deja vu only now his tank was black instead of white. blood dripping down to his lips that smile directed at your heart. his eyebrow looked better but was still slightly discolored from last week.
“I think this time it's broken,” but he's not showing any pain if it's the truth.
“your nose again? you’re too pretty to be taking punches to the face,” you pull on a pair of gloves walking over to inspect him.
“That's why they do it, they are jealous,” he lifts away the gauze the nurse must have given him.
His nose is clearly broken and needs to be set. you press your finger lightly to the bridge checking out the bone. Chan's eyes flutter shut and he lets out a weak moan, so soft that you probably wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close to his face. you try to ignore the sound feeling along his cheekbones but when you press to the corner of his eye he lets out another soft whine.
“I'm going to have to reset it,” you say pulling your hands away from him, “you can set up an appointment-“
“can't you just do it now? I don't think I'll need all the fuss of local anesthetic i think I can handle it,”
“It's going to hurt,”
“it didn't hurt much when I was hit I'm sure it won't be too bad the other way around,”
“You know it's okay to admit when it's painful,” you say, prodding again at his nose, he gives another soft moan at the touch, shifting his hips and leaning further back.
“I like it, so even when it's a little painful I don't mind,”
you move to grab a splint for his nose before preparing him, “I'll be quick so you shouldn't feel much but it will still hurt,” this wasn't the first time you've had to fix someone's broken nose but it would be the first time you were worried about messing up someone's face. you had full trust in your abilities but your anxiety was not helping.
Chan crossed his arms nodding before you pressed the heel of your palm to his nose, “Deep breath,” he followed your instructions and without warning you reset his nose. He flinched knuckles bleached from holding on so tight to himself, moaning as you pulled your hands back. you grabbed the split to finish the job, “see quick and easy,” his voice thick before he clears it. “I think I need a minute,”
“I can get something for the pain real fast,” you say tugging off your gloves already moving to get the meds.
“no no I don't need that, I just need a second,” his head is leaned back, throat exposed, arms still crossed while he shifts his hips again drawing your attention to his waist. you can clearly see the outline of his hard bulge through his gray sweatpants.
“Oh!” you turn around fast to try and give him some form of privacy feeling your face get hot. “I um- I'll just-“ you cut yourself off picking up his chart and moving to the door. you close the door as he tries to say something but you’re already down the hall trying not to think about what you saw. you don’t really care it’s not the first time you’ve seen someone turned on in the hospital although all the other times you rolled your eyes. Now you’re stuttering and trying not to think of Chan in a way that could get you into trouble.
but it’s all you can think about.
how long would he need? would he be actively trying to get rid of his problem mentally or physically? what would have happened if you had stayed? would it have been beyond awkward or would you officially have to resign for having sex while on shift?
you give Chan's chart to another doctor to check over your work and send him off. you didn’t want to go in and embarrass him or embarrass yourself for that matter. so you hid like a coward.
-
it was a rare night off for you and you took the opportunity to spend it with your old friends.
at a nightclub on a busy strip downtown your friends decide to bar hop. you had a late shift tomorrow anyway and didn’t care about sleeping in. At the third bar, your friend's boyfriend starts talking about a fight happening across the street. “the guy's undefeated I swear I just wanna see the end,”
“If you’re dragging us along you’re paying the entrance fee,” your friend says before another pipes up, “and a drink each!”
“Fine, fine let’s go, it's already started!” all of you rush across the street joining the moving queue as people file into the building.
You can hear the cheering already, the announcer shouting over the speakers, your shoes sticking to the floor as if you were still at the bar. but this is far from it, people are jostling each other around, and the seats all first come already full. it’s not until you’re making your way up the steps of the bleachers that you see who’s in the ring.
Chan is shirtless and glistening with sweat, hair stuck down across his forehead, lip bleeding around his mouth guard. muscles rippling as he delivers a blow to his opponent.
you’re almost shocked still and unmoving in your walk up to a seat. someone behind you tries to move past you and you stumble, unaware of your surroundings.
Chan doesn’t know why he looks up because he always tries to focus solely on the person in front of him determined to beat him. but he does let his eyes flicker up to the stands to see you apologizing to someone moving past you. He's caught off guard by your presence and the right hook that makes his head snap away from you.
the crowd shouts in disapproval as you take your seat. Chan is now bleeding from his nose like every other time you’ve seen him. The droplets of blood fell to his toned stomach each breath pushing the trail of blood further down.
you’ve never been into fighting, not watching or participating but now you’re fully invested. you don’t even want a drink when your friends ask if you need anything. your eyes follow Chan as he delivers hit after hit to the man in front of him. and when they call a winner you’re up out of
your seat cheering along with the rest of the watchers.
“omg is he looking at us? I swear he’s looking right at us,” your friend laughs next to you.
Chan is in fact looking up the stands at you. That dimpled smile on full display after he’s taken his mouth guard out. when he sees you looking back he mouths ‘Wait for me’ and you’re putty. you don’t even try to think that he could have been talking to someone else because you’re delusional enough not to give a fuck.
when you make it down to where Chan is signing autographs you’re a little nervous after how you left things. but that goes away when he grins, split lip reopening. “my favorite medical professional,”
“I thought I warned you not to get your pretty face in the way of someone’s fist?”
“How else am I supposed to see you if I don’t come in needing your assistance?”
the crowd around you is clearing and you’ve already told your friends not to wait on you so when Chan asks, “Can we talk?” nodding his head in the direction of the locker rooms, you don’t turn him down.
He leads you to the hallway just out of the way from everyone else. “I wanted to apologize for the last time I saw you,”
“no no, I should apologize I shouldn’t have given you someone else to work with,”
“no really I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable I swear I was trying really hard not to have any kind of reaction I just-“
“It's okay truly I wasn’t uncomfortable it’s natural although I've never reset someone’s bones and had that happen-“
“I'm sorry,” he chuckles, rubbing at the back of his neck, arm flexing and you realize he’s still shirtless. all finely toned muscles on display the damp towel used to wipe away any blood and sweat thrown over his shoulder. but a spot of blood had been missed right at the band of his shorts. without thinking you reached out to brush it away with your thumb.
Chan and you stood frozen, his breath shallow as he watched your finger wipe at his skin just low enough to send a shiver down his spine.
“Are you doing anything else tonight?” he asks when you pull away.
“you were just in a fight and you still want to go out?”
“with you? yes. With anyone else? no,” you’re standing close together and when someone walks past to reach the locker room door Chan moves in blocking you against the wall. your hand comes up and rests on his ribs, his bruises gone from his first visit only now to be replaced with fresh ones.
he’s leaning down close to you as another person moves around you two to enter the locker room. Chan's breath fanning your ear before he whispers, “We don’t have to go out, we could stay in…”
he technically was not your patient, you weren’t at work and you weren’t obligated to deny yourself anymore. not when Chan was standing here willing and you were wet from just watching him win his match.
“Okay,” your voice was low and weak but all the confirmation Chan needed to pull you along after him.
past the locker rooms are a few offices and Chan knows there’s a secluded restroom right by there. you don’t even think twice as he shuts the door behind you locking it. you’re both on each other the second Chan turns around. hot and heavy kisses down your neck and over your collar as Chan palms your ass over your short skirt. your hands tugging at his hair but not the way Chan likes, “harder,” he breathes between kisses, “I want it to hurt,” and when you do his moan is music to your ears.
Chan walks you back into the wall pressing you against the tile next to the sink.
“When I thought about fucking you I never imagined you dressed like this,” Chan lifts your leg to his hip, hot hand running under your thigh and up under your skirt.
“disappointed we can’t play doctor?”
“I don’t care as long as I finally get to have you,” Chan's free hand slides up under
your shirt palming you over your bra. his mouth is back on yours as he wedges his knee between your legs. his thigh placed right against your clothed clit.
Chan's hand fits right in the pit between your hip and thigh, fingers digging in as he pulls you forward on his thigh.
your hips start to move against him, moaning into his mouth as you rock back and forth against him. “My pretty girl wants me so bad,” he breathes, planting kisses down your jaw. “I can already feel how wet you are for me,”
with anyone else you would have been embarrassed about how needy you were but you didn’t care with Chan. not when he had been on your mind for weeks now, when every time you got off recently you had been imagining Chan's fingers doing the job instead of your own.
Chan taps your other leg muttering, “Jump,” and you follow his orders, Chan moving to set you down on the sink’s countertop. He pulls away, hooking his fingers in your panties and tugging them down your legs. He stays on his knees leaning over to kiss you on your inner thigh. you tug off your shirt tossing it on the counter next to you.
you cup Chan's jaw letting your thumb run over his bruised bottom lip, your finger moves over his nose brushing down the slope. Chan's smile is lazy, his gaze pouring over you. “you’re healing nicely,”
“to have your hands all over me I’d make a million more visits, and,” he lifts himself until his lips are brushing yours, “I love the pain,”
you slip your hand into the waistband of Chan's shorts wrapping your fingers around his stiff length. He moans loudly against your cheek as you stroke him. Chan's hand pushes under your skirt pressing his thumb into your clit, circling slowly.
“I can’t wait anymore,” Chan grunts pushing your skirt up higher around your hips, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter before you remove your hands from his already leaking cock.
Chan pushes down his pants to free himself before he’s lining up with your entrance.
he doesn’t hesitate to thrust in fully pressing his pelvis to yours. both of you moan out your arms wrapping around his shoulders. chan inches out before slowly pushing back in. You whine, laying your head back until it’s laid against the mirror.
you wrap one of your hands around Chan's neck, “is this okay?”
Chan nods, “Harder please harder,” you squeeze enough to make his eyes flutter, the same way they had when you were back in the hospital fixing his nose, his hips finally picking up pace. every drag of his cock makes a bolt travel down from your spine to your knees. your back arching, Chan drags his teeth down your throat.
your free hand scratches down Chan's back and you move your hips to meet his, trying to build any friction.
“you feel so deep,” your voice not sounding like you as Chan angels himself up brushing against your g-spot. your legs wrapped around him shake at the contact, your walls squeezing around his cock.
“I wanna hear you cum for me,” Chan moves his fingers between you rubbing your clit until you see spots, knowing exactly what you needed.
Chan picks up his thrusting pace, punishing you with his cock, tip pressed right against the deepest part of you. “cum inside me please,” you beg, your nails usually nicely kept for work scratching him like they weren’t shortened.
His thrusts falter at your words, his moan in your hair loud and echoing in the small room. “please I want it, I want to feel it,” your fingers around his throat give a squeeze and Chan knows he won’t be able to deny you.
with a few sloppy thrusts, Chan is coming hard enough that his upper half gives out, laying on you. your hands leaving his throat and twisting in his hair as he shoots out ropes of hot cum inside you, hips jerking.
The feeling of his release and his fingers on your clit send you over the edge, your legs locking around him as you cry out his name. Chan's slow thrusts help you ride out your high. both of you panting arms wrapped around each other not wanting to let the other go.
clarity starts to set in as you catch your breath, your hair sticking to the back of
your neck. chan pulls out, the slick sound making you pulse around nothing. Chan watches as your combined cum slides out. He lifts your leg under your thigh using his thumb to spread your pussy lips apart watching as more comes out. “Next time I’m at the hospital I won't be able to forget this,” he drags his thumb up to your clit making you jump. spreading the slick around, “I might even ask for you to treat me this well again,”
#bangchan x reader#bangchan smut#bang chan#stray kids#stray kids smut#stray kids bang chan#changbin#hyunjin#lee felix#lee know#i.n skz#seungmin#kpop smut#skzsmut#han jisung#chan x reader#skz bang chan
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HELLO I'm in love with the way you write for Cooper 😩👏💝fix idea: I was thinking he's DEFINITELY somebody who doesn't care who he looks anymore, but is still aware that he's got that CHARM yano, but maybe the reader is just "wow your eyes are so pretty" and he fuckin BLUSHES (Mr cooper Howard aka Mr ghoul cowpoke absolutely keels over cus somebody said he was puuuurrtty) 💥💥💥🔫 just all "shut your pie hole girlie" and shes 😏😏😏 ok handsome
Can Ghouls Blush?
Cooper Howard x GN!Reader, word count: 1k aaaaah thank you ;-; also i love this, i love the idea of flustering that horrible boy omg 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: some threats (imean it's cooper), guns, mostly fluff though!
“I know time means very little to someone who has been around for two hundred years, but how much longer are you gonna be?”
Cooper’s voice echoed out from the main room of the abandoned building you had slept in. From the bathroom, you could hear the frustration, despite his attempts to soften it up. He had no time for fun, no time for relaxing. It was survival and sweating, or nothing at all. But you could tell he had tried to soften it up a little, just for you. His irritation was still so obvious however, even as he offered you a playful roll as he approached the door, catching your eye in the reflection of the cracked mirror.
“Just a sec, then we can head out.”
The old hairbrush you had found by the sink was a well-received miracle. A little bit of normality, a chance to tidy yourself up somewhat.
“I just think it’s a waste of time is all. Preening for the Wasteland. I mean, who are you trying to impress out there? You already got the best catch.”
He flicked the brim of his hat with his gloved fingers, grinning wide, yellowed teeth bared at you as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip.
“That’s exactly the problem. I have to make sure I look good to keep up with you, handsome.”
Your hand stroked along his cheek, a brief moment of eye contact as you walked past him towards the door of the bathroom and back out to the front of your temporary shelter.
“Handsome, huh?”
His voice seemed so much lighter now, more so than you had ever really heard before. And as you turned, you noticed the slight smile on his weathered lips, cheeks pulling up at the corners, eyes glinting as he stared straight back at you.
“Uh… yeah. You’re a very handsome guy, Coop.”
You almost had your fingers on the door knob, ready to leave for the start of your day, when you realised that you couldn’t feel Cooper’s presence behind you. Turning to see what was holding him up, you caught something in his eyes. A look of confusion, almost. Surprise. Disbelief. And a little bit of what you could swear was embarrassment. All this time together. Sleeping in each other’s arms, protecting each other from danger. Had you really never expressed to him your attraction? You had just assumed he knew. You spent long enough staring lustfully at him, it was surely a given. So you worried there was something else to it.
“What’s wrong, Cooper?”
“Nothing, I just… I was used to being called handsome, long time ago… not so much these days.”
As you stepped back towards him, closing the short distance, you could make out his expression much better, realising how astute your previous observation had been.
“Oh my god… Coop, are you blushing?”
He raised one finger, narrowing his brows as he tried to hide the endearing glee, offering you a forced stern look as he spoke.
“Don’t start playin’ stupid with me, you know I am not.”
Biting your lip, a mischievous smile forming, you gripped the lapels of his duster, teasing him as you stroked your thumb along one of his ridged, warm cheeks.
“Why, I didn’t even know big tough cowboys could blush, especially not the more ghoulish ones.” Can they blush? I'll need a closer look."
His fingers were tight around your wrist, gripping you fast and firm. He was trying so hard to maintain his tough exterior, but you could tell there was something softer in there that longed to come out, or at the very least, was desperate for someone to notice it. It was so obvious, even as he lowered his voice and growled at you.
“You turn around right now and start walkin’ out that door.”
Cooper took a step forwards, an attempt to regain his control of the situation, to push you towards doing his will, but you brought your hand up and laid your palm against his chest.
“Wait, just a second…”
It was nice to see him in this light. His confidence was always the dominant feature in his peronality, and it rarely wavered, if at all. But to know there were aspects of himself that he wasn't as sure of, and to know you could render him a little flustered just by complimenting them, made you smile. A grin that was returned by Cooper as you gazed into his warm, brown eyes.
"What is it you're lookin' for now, huh? You find it?"
"Yeah... turns out they can blush."
You turned quickly from him, practically skipping back towards the door of your temporary shelter, ready for another day of survival, this time tinted with a little more joy than usual. Your smile only grew wider as you heard Cooper, catching up with you, still trying to cover his embarrassment with the strained, empty aggressive threat that he chased you with.
"Now I will shoot you, you know that? You're pushing your luck today and we ain't even done anythin' yet."
But when he was certain you weren’t going to turn back around, he let himself smile a little. A soft glow in his eyes as he allowed himself to remember who he was, really. The kind of man that resided deep down inside, buried by years of solitude in the deep, dark ground, of struggling to adjust to the world. And struggling to adjust to himself. Even just a tiny reminder that, despite his charms and the charisma that tended to pull people in, that there was a bit of his old self left. That despite everything, despite who he had become, both physically and emotionally, someone might look at him with something other than fear first. With kindess, or lust. Or even love. That was enough to help him cling to the memories and look to the future with just the tiniest bit of hope, something he hadn’t felt in such a long time.
“You comin’, handsome?”
He smiled, biting his lip to curtail the spread of the easy grin.
“You bet.”
#fallout#fallout amazon#x reader#finnie writes#cooper howard#the ghoul#fallout fic#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#cooper howard fanfiction#cooper howard one shot#cooper howard smut#cooper howard imagine#fallout tv#fallout tv series#walton goggins#cooper howard x fem!reader
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Tomura Shigaraki helps after you get hit with a sex quirk
MDNI
Shigaraki x gn/afab reader
This is pt 2, here's pt 1
Warnings/content/etc: unestablished relationship, swearing, implied virgin Shiggy (but not a total loser in this srry), fingering, brief oral (male receiving), missionary.
Before you know it, you’re back at the league headquarters. Shigaraki continues to keep you semi-upright, getting you into the building. Passing through the bar, Kirogiri asks if you need medical assistance. Shigaraki immediately yells “No Giri, it’s fine. I’ve got it” while you try not to laugh. With continued help, you make your way through the hall and into his bedroom. He leads you to his bed and you do your best to ignore him kicking a bag of trash under the desk.
He sits on the bed beside you, reaching under his pillow. Pulling out drawing gloves, he slides his pinkies into each of them before securing the wrists.
“Not the sexiest but it’s so if I accidentally touch you I don’t-”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” you reply smiling, genuinely glad for his concern.
He turns to you, holding his hands awkwardly in front of him “okay um..” He glances around.
“So how do you…” he trailed off.
“Have sex?” “Ughh. I know what sex is y/n, I’m not an idiot.” He shifts uncomfortably before itching the skin under his jaw.
As you expected: he doesn’t seem to have any experience in this. You can’t really judge him for it, it’s not like you’re getting laid nonstop yourself. Plus, he’s willing to help when no one else is, he’s attractive, and his cluelessness is kind of endearing. On the other hand, his insecurities can make him irritable but maybe it won’t be too bad.
“No, how do you want to start? I have an idea of what people would usually do but I also know this is just supposed to be a means to an end.” He stares down at his hands, chewing the skin of his bottom lip.
Was this just a means to an end for him? You initially thought he was just being nice and didn’t care about sex. But he seems to somewhat care and under his usual confidence he looks a little sad about (what you would assume to be) his first time being with someone using him to avoid slipping into insanity. You’d probably find that a little depressing too. What is he looking for in this? Realizing that you’ve been staring at him too long, you decide to just ask.
“So, my brain is foggy. But if I’m understanding this: you’re asking about comfort levels? What are you comfortable with?”
“You can do anything to me.” he responds shamelessly and a little too fast.
“Okay. Noted.” Wanting to not lose time, you move yourself closer to him.
Opting to place a hand on his shoulder, making some connection between the two of you. This works for you: verbal conversation becoming more difficult to keep track of as your body pulls you towards him. The way he is looking at you while biting his bottom lip makes it nearly impossible to think of anything else. On top of that, you are in Tomura Shigaraki’s bed.
You are really in Tomura Shigaraki’s bed.
Holy shit.
He doesn’t seem to hate the small touch between you so you move even closer. Bringing your left hand up to his cheek, you lightly brush a few clumps of hair from his face.
You lean-in, gravitating towards his mouth.
It’s terrifying, even if he said he’s okay with what you want to do, you’ve still never seen him indicate much interest in physical touch prior to this.
Moving closer.
You hope he actually meant it.
A little closer.
You also hope ‘anything’ includes kissing.
Pressing tentatively, your lips connect with his. You feel him stiffen slightly before rubbing his lips into yours. The soft ridges of his scars lightly dancing over your skin. Slowly, you continue to kiss him - struggling to hold back but afraid to move too fast. He pulls back.
“Uhm” glancing down “is it okay if I touch you with my hands?”
He looks into your eyes and you wonder if he’s touched anyone with his hands (in this way, at least. You’ve definitely seen him touch people with his hands.)
“Yeah”
“..you’re sure?” he double checks looking confused at your first answer.
“I know what I said yes to” you smile and move your own hand into his.
“Okay, cool” he smiles and turns fully towards you. When was the last time you saw him smile? Your heartbeat quickens, deepening the ache in your gut making you groan.
“Hey, uhm” awkward start but you continue “this pace is nice and all but I..”
His eyes widen in understanding. “Oh. Yeah, got it!” In a surge of confidence you’re used to seeing when he takes charge of a mission, he presses you back onto his bed. Climbing on top of you, he brings his lips back to yours - fumbling slightly.
Where was that a minute ago?
The kiss deepens. Parting your lips, you’re met with a mouthful of his tongue. Inexperienced, but his confidence is still hot. You guide him, sliding your tongue gracefully around his.
Being close to him isn't so bad. Like usual, he's confident yet hesitant. Not overly praising but at least not rude to you. Despite his messy style, he smells okay too. Kind of like wet leaves in fall.
Reaching your hands down, you grab the bottom of his hoodie and pull it off, taking his shirt with it. He motions to do the same. You lean forward, allowing him to slide yours over your head. Your shirt gets stuck so you help and pull it the rest of the way off your arms. Happy you didn’t wear a bra, that’s something he can figure out another day.
He gasps slightly. Oh yeah, boobs.
Pausing, he looks up “and you’re sure it’s okay if I touch you everywhere?”
“Definitely, I want to feel your hands on me.”
It’s clear by now, his confidence doesn’t extend to his hands in this situation. Reaching for his gloved fingers, you place yours over his and pull them down to your hips. The feeling of his skin on yours sends light tingles through your body, quickening your breathing. Adding more pressure, you drag his hands up your stomach, over your ribs, and onto your chest. You slide your hands up his arms, feeling every scar along the way. He takes a moment to adjust before grabbing handfuls, grazing your nipple making you moan and lean into his touch.
Seeing him shirtless in front of you, he’s a lot more ripped than you thought he’d be. His skin looks soft with scratches and scars here and there adding texture. You wish he’d lean forward more, you really need to touch him.
He haphazardly rolls your nipples between his fingers, lightly before pinching harder. He brings his head down to rest on your chest briefly before replacing his left hand with his mouth. First licking, then alternating between sucking and biting. He swirls his tongue around you, making you gasp. He notices and does this more between quick bites and kisses.
Fast learner.
You exhale loudly, pulling him closer to you. Dragging your hands up his back, you grip the muscles over his shoulder blades. With your legs wrapping around his back, you pull him closer again. He moans and you feel him hard against you. You continue pressing him into your hips and letting him go to grind him back into you. Your breath quickening with his. The heat you felt all night becomes unbearable. With a low moan, you pull your shorts down your thighs. He sits up, pulling them off for you before removing his own pants.
Through his tight boxer briefs you can see the outline of him, tip peeking out the top of the elastic. It’s…definitely not small. Holy shit.
Your head spins slightly and you realize you've been staring for too long.
“Everything okay?” he asks. “Yeah. Everything's great.” you say, pulling him back to your side.
He kisses you for a moment before rubbing his hand over your panties, three fingers pressing down with his pinky instinctively pulled back. Getting carried away, you reach for his bulge, sliding your hand firmly over him.
“Wait.” he groans, moving your hand to his hip “in a bit, it's uh too distracting.”
He resumes moving his hands, sliding his hand under the fabric. You feel his middle finger slide down your slit then press hard back up, rubbing over your clit, making you moan loudly in his ear. He repeats this for a while before slipping back down and pressing his finger in. His finger quells the empty feeling you'd had all night. It feels amazing. You bite his shoulder, breathing hard into him. He begins sliding his middle finger in and out while his thumb comes up to press into your clit. The heat continues to build.
His movements start a bit sloppy, but he has the right idea. He's done his research, he's just unpracticed. Now he’s playing you like a new video game.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
“Y-yeah” you half scream in his ear.
The corner of his mouth raises slightly and he adds another finger before picking up the tempo. You feel the pressure aching in your gut release, sending shock waves of pleasure all the way to your toes.
“Shig-” he presses his free hand over your lips.
“Tom-ura.” he corrects you between breaths.
You grip him harder, fingernails adding more scratches down his back. Burying your face in his neck you ride the waves pulsing through your body.
“Fuck” he moans into your ear “always wanted to do this.” His heavy lidded eyes watch yours as you moan and press into his hand.
When your orgasm begins to lull, you feel him slip out and you begin to catch your breath. You weren't back to normal yet, but you could feel your quirk again which is progress.
“Huh” he brings his hand closer to his face, inspecting his cum covered fingers. “That’s a fun reward.” He smiles at what his typically destructive hands created before licking his fingers.
You laugh and he brings his attention back to you.
Wanting to return the favor, you shimmy further down the bed and free him from his boxers. You drag your lips over the leaking tip while your hands work their way down his shaft, both your hands and mouth fitting easily over him at the same time.
“This is - amazing” he breathes, “but I think we should - you still need to - if - if you're ready.” He breaks off pulling himself back slightly to catch his breath.
Oh. Yeah. Right.
You remind yourself why you're in this situation in the first place. A “means to an end” as he put it.
You pause for a moment, taking in the surprise of him putting your well being ahead of his pleasure. This shouldn't have come as too much of a shock, he's always put you and the other league members first. You just didn't expect it in this context.
You make a mental note to give him a blow job as a thank you later, if he's okay with you touching him after this. Maybe he is just helping you but you still want to make it somewhat nice for him, he deserves that at least.
He presses his thumb inside your mouth, guiding you back down to the bed. You bite him lightly, making his eyes light up before he pulls back.
Tipping your hips up, you slide your now drenched underwear off, tossing them on the floor where he just threw his. You press back into the mattress before he moves over you and drops his elbow next to your shoulder.
Bringing his hips back, he lines himself up. In spite of how over-aroused you feel, you're still a bit nervous.
“you ready?” he asks.
“yeah” you smile, “you?”
“definitely.”
He bumps his tip into you, missing a few times before pulling himself up to your clit and pressing himself between your lips to slide down and in. His hips thrust forward, a little too fast for his size.
“eek” you squeak, scrunching your face slightly.
He freezes for a moment.
“Fuck. Uh…” he pulls back a bit, giving you time to adjust.
“just stay here for a second” you whisper in his ear, bringing your hands to his hips to keep him there.
You catch your breath and the burning stretch begins to feel more like a tickle. You slide your hands up his waist, feeling every muscle and scar on the way up. Bringing them around his back, you nod at him to continue.
His scarlet eyes watch you carefully for any signs of pain as he slowly pulls away and presses back in again. This continues a bit before he begins picking up speed and settling into a more consistent rhythm. You pull his hair from between your faces. Concentrating, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. Wishing you could keep staring at him forever, you also want to feel him closer. You kiss the birthmark on his jaw before moving his mouth to yours.
He picks up the pace, bringing your breath to the top of your lungs. Your walls squeeze around him, sucking him further into you. You moan into his mouth while he moans back at you, continuing messy kisses.
You pull your legs up and wrap them around his back as tight as you can, bringing him as close to you as possible. He takes the hint and slides his hands under your ass, grabbing and pressing you up to him. He's so deep you can feel him throbbing into your cervix, sending pulses of heat into you with every movement.
The pressure aching in your gut rises to an all time high then drops suddenly, your satisfaction shooting through your body as you grip his hair with one hand and back with the other.
“Tomura” your scream comes out louder than expected, but you don't care if anyone can hear.
You feel yourself flutter around him. Every pulse drawing you tighter and subsequently, making you feel more full.
He's not far behind, breath catching in his throat before he presses in deeper, his sensitive tip gushing to fill you with cum as you quiver around him. “Oh fuck, y/n” he exhales into your neck before relaxing into you.
He rolls off and doesn't immediately kick you out which you take as a good sign. He sees the fact that you haven't run out the door as an okay to put an arm around you. Laying your head on his chest, you let out a massive sigh of relief. The dizziness and ache have passed, leaving you feeling more calm than you have in a long time. You decide to stay here for a while, waiting for the inevitable moment he asks you to leave but instead, he brings you closer. He wants to enjoy being able to touch someone for as long as possible. His breathing slowing with yours.
“I honestly thought there was a chance you'd pick a psych ward over me, y/n. You didn't really seem like the type to care about sex.” He continues in a less serious voice “I guess it’s good to know, with overwhelming horniness, the threat of insanity, and after I saved your ass, even I can be fuckable to you.”
“Are you kidding?” you laugh, “you’re always fuckable to me.”
Tomura takes a moment to process what he's just heard. Then he smiles and looks into your eyes “wanna go again?”
m.list
tags: @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @dija200
#my hero academia smut#shigaraki tomura#shigaraki tomura smut#tomura shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x smut#my hero academia imagine#shigaraki tomura x reader
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Dolly (Pt 2)
Human Alastor x Housewife!Reader
Pt 1, Finale
Tw: Murder, Forced Cannibalism, reader is described as a woman, dumbifying reader, mention of pregnancy, pregnancy.
Note: I guess I’m making this a series? I really want them to meet in hell. Also I really haven’t made it obvious bc I don’t want to erase Alastor being aroace. The way I see it, he’s kinda just toying with reader and grew obsessed once reader became a murderer.
———————————————————————
The morning after your delightful meal, you found yourself puking your guts out. The food did not agree with you at all. You wonder how Alastor’s body did not reject your food. Maybe it was all guilty’s conscience, but you’re not guilty for what you did.
Alastor holds your hair back, rubbing small circles on your back. “Oh my, what a way to start the morning. It makes me wonder if you’re perhaps pregnant.”
You shoot him a look, “Please do not say that, I beg of you.” No, you’re not pregnant, and Alastor knows you’re not pregnant. But if you are. . . That means you’re all to himself. You will have no choice but to depend on him even more. Even if you decided one day to leave him, you can’t. Nobody other man wants a tainted woman with children. Maybe one day he should get you pregnant.
Oh he absolutely knows that his dear wife has committed something awful and he’s proud of you, although he won’t admit it, yet. For now, he’s here to support you through the aftermath of your actions.
He could even recall his first kill, it was messy and uncoordinated, and the gore did not sit right with his stomach. But he hopes that his wife does not meddle in the business no longer. All you must do is sit pretty and be the doll you are. The sweet wife who cleans the house and cooks for him and cares for him dearly while being oblivious to the fact that your husband is out and about, killing many people.
But he’s curious. You might be just like him and the thought of that makes him want to grasp you in his hands tightly. To keep you all to himself and keep you away from anything that could take you away from him. At the same time, he wants to test you, push you further into insanity until there’s no more turning back and you’re addicted to the feeling of blood on your hands.
You’ve made a decision, you’re going to confess to Alastor. You can’t just keep him the dark about what you’ve done. “Alastor dear, so about Linda. . . I’ve. . .”
“No need to say more, ma cheri. I know.” He says, acting sympathetic towards you. He pulls you into a hug and you can’t help but burst into tears. He pats
“My dear, you’ve had such a bad morning so I believe you should go out and treat your pretty self with something,” He hums, combing your hair back.
“But-“
“I insist dear. Allow me to tend to the home and when you get back, you’ll be treated to a nice meal. How does that sound?”
Your lips pursed in thought. “Fine, but only because you insist.”
The phone rings.
“I’ll take that, mon cheri. Now I’ll allow you to get yourself all pretty and I’ll get you some money for you to spend.” He kisses your head and leaves you be.
———————————————————————
An outing is just what you needed, although it was not to relieve your nerves. You only felt guilt for having stained your hands with red. That matters not, anymore. Alastor says to relax and enjoy your outing and that is what you’d do.
Now that you’re out, Alastor prepares to go out. He puts his gloves, “I should prepare a freshly cooked meal for my dear wife. It’s about time I went hunting.” He hums to himself and leaves the house.
———————————————————————
The sound of chopping is heard through the kitchen. Chopped vegetables are put aside and Alastor is seen kneading a sort of meat. After he’s satisfied, he chops the meat and sets it aside.
“Let us see,” He says, squatting down to the body by the kitchen island. He reaches inside the abdomen, a squelch being heard as his hands move deeper. “Ah, there it is!” He says cheerfully as he cuts out the intestines.
After squeezing the contents out of the intestines, he looks up at the clock. “Oh dear me! It’s about time my dear Y/N comes home!”
It’s already 5 and he expects you to be home in about an hour.
He continues to grind away the other organs and meat before stuffing the intestines, making the sausages for the jambalaya.
After an hour has passed, you are back home. As you were about to reach for the handle, the door opened, revealing Alastor. “Welcome home ma cheri!” He greets you with a smile, pulling you in for a hug. You reciprocate and kisses his cheek. “What have you got there?” He asks, motioning to the bags.”
“Oh I’ve only bought a few dresses. Nothing out of the ordinary,” You shrug, putting the bags down.
“Then I should expect a show from you then, is that correct? Give me a little twirl in each dress?” His voice deepens as he tilts your head up to look at him.
“If that’s what my dear husband wants,” You say, almost as if you’re purring.
Alastor hums in approval and pulls your lips into a kiss. His arm around your waist, pulls you in, pressing your body against his. “Oh my pretty doll, you’ve got me all distracted.”
“And it is my fault?” She chuckles.
“Yes dear, it’s your fault for being so gorgeous, however I cannot complain about that. Come now, I’ve made jambalaya. Let us eat before it gets cold.”
You follow him immediately to the dining room. “How I love jambalaya. I’m grateful you’ve introduced me to one of your favorites.” You smile as you sat down. “You didn’t put shrimp?” You ask.
“I’ve decided to add some meat instead,” Alastor says, placing some food on your plate.
“Well anything you cook is delicious. I’ll enjoy every bite!” You beam.
The two of you continue to eat and chat. While doing the dishes, the door bell rings. “I wonder who that might be?” You say confused, not expecting any visitors.
Alastor goes to the front door and opens it with a smile. “Hello, how can I help you fine gentlemen?”
“We’re with the police, I’d just like to ask about your neighbors.” One of the officers say.
“Well of course!” Alastor remains to smile, however he is irritated, not that anyone notices.
“Who is it Alastor, dear?” You say, walking behind him. “Oh! Well hello officer!” You immediately put a bright smile. Alastor wraps an arm around your waist.
“Yes, you must be this fine gentleman’s wife. We’d just like to ask if you folks know anything about Mrs. Linda and perhaps Mr. Connor?” The officer asks.
“Connor? Well what could have possibly gone wrong?” Alastor says in confusion.
“Well officer, last night we got a call from dear Connor and just earlier before that, I believe during the afternoon, Linda paid me a small visit,” You answer.
“Is that so? Well ma’am, did she enter the home?”
“Yes she did. Just for a couple minutes though.”
“Anything in particular happened? Arguments, anything?” The officer pushes on.
“Oh of course not! Linda and I may only be acquaintances but I do not harbor such ill feelings for her.”
Alastor squeezes your waist, “You see, my dear wife is far too good for her own good. Far too oblivious to the world, but who can blame her. She’s a doll after all.”
You smile at the officers, looking very innocent.
“Why, I see why you married such a beautiful lady,” The officers chuckles. “Well did she say anything before she left?
“No sir. . . Well she did complain about how she suspects her husband of have a mistress,” You answer.
Alastor adds, “The couple do tend to have a tendency for infidelity. There’s neighborhood rumors of one of the kids not even being Connors’! It’s no surprise though. They say Linda sleeps with other men.”
You gasp, “You mean that man she was with that one day-!”
“Oh no need to worry your pretty little head about it. That is not our problem,” Alastor says.
“And the call you received from Mr. Connor?” The officer asks.
“Oh he just called to thank my dear wife for her generosity. She was kind enough to bake the family a pie. She’s a rather good cook,” Alastor answers with a smile.
“Well you see, both of the couples are missing and have left their kids unattended.”
“Oh that’s awful! Are they okay?” You ask with worry.
“They sure are. If you happen to hear anything about them, please do give a call, thanks for your time,” The officer nods and leaves.
After Alastor closes the door, you immediately broke into a sob. “They’re out to get me Alastor! They’ll get me!” You cling to him.
“My dear you won’t, I promise you they won’t. I’d do anything,” Alastor says in a hushed voice.
“I-I’m the last to have seen Linda and Connor! Now Connor is gone too! What if they think I am the one who killed him!” You cry hysterically.
“My dear, have you not seen yourself? No one would believe that a small thing like you could have possibly killed someone,” he reasons.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course dear.”
———————————————————————
“Must you really go, Alastor?” You plead, grabbing his hand.
“I’m afraid I cannot skip out on work today, mon cheri. But what if they get me? What if I can’t see you again?” You say with worry.
Alastor chuckles. Your clinginess used to be something that annoyed him but not finds adorable. “Remember what I said last night?”
You nod.
“So you’ll let me go right?”
You nod and let go of his hand.
“Good. Now I’ll be back later, my dear.” He kisses your forehead and walks out the door.
He in fact did not come home that night. He was found dead, a bullet to his head. You never landed on the suspect list, as Alastor was found to be the serial killer of New Orleans.
#alastor x you#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#alastor#hazbin x you#hazbin x y/n#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor
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Okay so the poll results were for an OC captain, though it was close enough that I still hesitate to name him in the canon of the fic.
I’m also going to be taking my time fleshing out his character because it’s been a while since I made an OC. So please be patient while I add tidbits here and there to build his character.
Content: safe/sane/consensual sex, descriptions of scars, mentions of past torture
Nikto beats you and Nova twice out of three rounds — but that’s no surprise. The man moves like a machine. Even against two opponents he controls the battlefield like a chess master. Neither you nor Nova take it to heart, especially since he always gives you both advice at the end, helping you to improve.
He’s a great partner, a great teammate; you’re sure to show him your appreciation after sparring with a kiss to his nose-plate. His hands spasm on yours as he helps you unwind your wraps, gloved thumb sweeping over your bare palm.
“You did good today,” he says, voice rough and accent thick. He must be pissed about earlier still, when Ghost and Soap threw your matches with them.
“So did you,” you reply, squeezing his hand in return.
“Stay with me tonight?” He asks.
You damn near melt. Nikto has an open invitation to your room, but his is a sacred place, only for him unless otherwise specified. That he’s asking you to come to his tonight…
“Absolutely,” you reply, squeezing his hand. “I just need to see the captain first. Okay?”
He grunts in understanding, eyes flicking to the door the 141 left through earlier. He mutters something in Russian — some insult about goats and mothers you think.
“Yeah, exactly,” you reply, voice dropping with simmering irritation.
A good spar with him and Nova has helped ground you a bit, but it hasn’t helped the anger. You don’t spar any of your team with anger; they don’t deserve.
Luckily, you and your captain worked something out a while ago when you’re feeling a bit… aggressive.
“Cap?” You call, still holding Nikto’s hand. “Could I stop by for a nightcap later?”
His eyes flash, a sinful twist to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, babygirl. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
Over his shoulder, you see Nova arch her eyebrows and Keegan grin wicked into his water bottle. Gossip fiends.
“Showers. Now,” the cap says, slapping them both on the ass. “Double time. I need to have a word with Price still.”
—
Long after the sun has gone down, you’re standing outside your captain’s door. Take a breath. Remind yourself of your mantra. He wants you, always will, and he’s going to take care of you.
Then loosen your shoulders, unboxing all the frustration and aggression you set aside earlier. Feel it burn through you, make your hands twitch in and out of fists.
One more inhale, and then you shove the door open.
“There you are,” he rumbles. “C’mere.”
You flash your teeth, “No.”
He tilts head back and forth, cracking his neck. “Alright then.”
There’s no real fight. You’re not looking to get away or actually hurt him. And he’s not looking to actually make you submit. That’s not the point of this game.
He strides across the room and shoves you back, pins your shoulder to the wall. You grip at his forearm, nails scraping, and squirming as the hot, hard length of his body squishes you flat.
“Settle,” he orders.
“Fuck you,” you snarl back, nipping his lip.
He growls, tangling a hand in your hair and tipping your head back. Leaves a searing trail of kisses down your throat, bites a bruise into your collarbone. You wriggle and fuss all the while, safely held still and supported by his hands and body.
“Brat,” he rasps in your ear.
“I’m not,” you snap.
“Oh, yes you are, babygirl,” he replies, a mean smirk on his flushed face. “But that’s alright, I like you bad.”
He pulls you from the wall, bullies you onto the bed. You try to grab at him, get him under you. He doesn’t indulge like he normally would. Pins you on your back so that you can keep fighting, yanking at your wrists in his firm grip, pushing your hips up to grind into his as if trying to flip you both.
He slots his hips between your thighs, positions just his knees under your ass so that your back is arched, shoulders on the mattress. Limits your mobility, but that doesn’t stop you from kicking at air, making half-angry, half-desperate noises in the back of your throat.
“Gonna say please like a good girl?” He teases.
“No,” you hiss back.
He has the audacity to chuckle, which just riles you up more. (It’s supposed to). You curse as he works a hand beneath your shirt, palms at your bare breasts and pinches your nipples until they ache. You gasp like a pornstar, surprised and turned on.
“Pretty noise,” he coos. “Do it again.”
When he twists, you mewl, face immediately burning up as you renew your “efforts” to get away. All it does is make the treatment rougher than if you just laid still and took it, but that’s what you want, what feels good. A little edge to the pleasure as adrenaline and energy electrify you from head to toe.
He grinds against you, cotton of your loose shorts sticking against your soaked cunt. Christ you were turned on before you even barged in. Now you’re fucking throbbing for it.
“Gimme,” you grit out, rocking against him. Gears successfully shifted from physically taking control to just ordering him around.
“Give you what, brat?” He goads, slapping your pussy. The thin fabric muffles the sting, but it sends a white-hot ache through you that makes your eyes roll. “My cock? You think you deserve it?”
Another slap. You cry out, notice the sly look on his face when he notices that you’ve soaked through your shorts.
“Yes,” you reply, all confidence and reckless arrogance.
He yanks his underwear down to mid thigh, thick cock springing up to smack lewdly against his toned stomach. Precum smears over the pale scars there, sticks in the trail of groomed hair there.
“Yeah?” He growls. “Alright then.”
He yanks the crotch of your shorts aside (you hear stitches pop) and then he’s plunging into you. It’s too much all at once and you cry as much, knees squeezing around his tattooed ribs.
“Fuck.” His voice is shredded, so rough and low you feel it more than hear it. He lets your wrists go to grip at your ass, grinding deeper. Can feel the fat head of his cock bullying at your cervix, his favorite passtime while you adjust to the thick base of him.
“How does that feel, babygirl?” He murmurs in your ear. “You needed daddy’s cock, huh? Needed it to set you right again?”
You whimper out a curse at him, gripping at his biceps. He croons mockingly, thumb slipping between your bodies to press at your clit. Not rubbing or grinding, but just pressing. Just the right amount to make you sweat and pant, start trying to squirm to get any friction at all.
He lets you — could stop you if he wanted, or pull away entirely — but he likes winding you up like this. Likes seeing all that vicious energy turned to seeking pleasure from him.
“Fucking move,” you try to snarl, but your voice breaks midway through and comes out more pleading than you’d like.
“What was that, babydoll? Are you talking to me?” He teases, rolling his hips.
Your mouth falls open, a moan ripping from your chest, deep and needy.
“Daddy, move,” you cry, voice going up in pitch.
“There’s my brat.”
He pushes one of your knees up against your chest and slams into you. You scream and he doesn’t even try to cover your mouth, whispering filth as he tilts your hips for the best angle with his other hand. Fucks into you deep and rough, grinning at the obscenely wet noises every time he plunges into you.
Can practically feel him fucking your cervix open to get just that little bit deeper. Licks his lips when he sees the little bump in your stomach. You give as good as you get, squeezing down tight, bouncing to meet him, nails scoring lines down his back and shoulders.
“Gonna ask daddy to make you cum?” He goads.
“Earn it,” you reply.
He laughs and pulls out, flips you onto your stomach while you’re still dizzy with emptiness. Hikes your hips up and sinks into you like coming home. Your knees almost give out but that’s fine by him, he’s plenty strong enough to hold you up all on his own, using you like a noisy little toy for his own benefit.
“Fuuuuck,” you whine, feeling overwhelmed, pleasured tears gathering in your eyes. Then, in a whisper, “Daddy…”
“Feel like being good yet?” He asks. A large, rough hand circles that back of your neck and pins you face down to the mattress.
“N-no,” you whine, fight gone out of you now that you’re getting exactly what you want.
Fuck it feels so, so good. Every inch bullying you wide open and loose, so wet you’re dripping down your own thighs, wetting his ball as they slap against you. You feel split open and pinned, unable to do anything but take it, tortured stupid on ecstasy. He licks a stripe up your back before pressing you down prone, ankles locked around yours to keep you open and accessible.
“S’alright, doll, don’t need to be good to be mine.”
He’s barely pulling out halfway before ramming home now. You can barely get a breath in, the weight of him pressing whatever resistance was left right out of you.
“Daddy, daddy,” you sob. “Fuck, I wan’ it.”
“Want it, huh?”
“Mhmm,” you moan, pressing your face into your arms. Cant your hips just that little bit to get him abusing that bundle of nerves.
“Oh, right there, huh?” He coos. “Did daddy find your little sweet spot?”
A series of short, ruthless thrusts right there, making incoherent, desperate noises fall from your mouth. Before you realize it, he’s wedged a hand beneath your hips and has two fingers toying with your poor, neglected clit.
“‘M gonna… f-fuck, fuck,” you whine, writhing (or at least trying to) against him. Not sure if you’re trying to urge him on or get away. Doesn’t matter, he’s in charge, has been since the beginning. “Daddy, I wanna…”
“Whenever you want, babygirl,” he replies, voice going all warm and gooey. Your chest hitches. “Squeeze around me nice and tight. Let me feel you cum on my cock.”
Didn’t realize that was what you needed, but you fucking scream as you clench down around him, stars bursting behind your closed eyes. He fucks you through it, tapping against your g-spot again and again until you dissolve into a weak, wet whimpers.
“Daddyyyy,” you whine.
And that sets him off, flooding you with heat. He loses control for a second as his hips jerk, pounding brutally into your oversensitive, swollen pussy. Makes a few tears finally slip down, soaking into the sheets along with your drool. The sound of him groaning as he cums makes you spasm around him again, a little aftershock that milks the last of his release.
“That’s it, easy,” he groans, brushing kisses over your trembling shoulders. “Easy, doll.”
He lies over you for a few minutes, letting you feel him there. Right there with you. Breathing and recovering, holding you through the endorphin rush. When you squirm a bit, he eases off you, cock slipping out. You shiver at the feeling of his cum trickling out of you, glassy eyes fluttering.
“C’mere,” he soothes, tugging you in. Lying on his side, he hitches one of your thighs up over his hip, tucks your arms between your chests and rests his stubbly chin on your temple. You splay your fingers over his peck, over the bold, dark symbol for SpecGru. Feel his heart settling back into rhythm and sigh, snuggling in.
The hormone drop is a monster on your emotions, often leaves you shivery and lonely, a little sick in your own body. First time you did this with him ended in tears, expecting him to get up and leave. He didn’t, never has, but you both learned that as much physical contact as possible in the aftermath eases the comedown away from a total crash.
“You did so well, babygirl,” he whispers, leaving kisses everywhere he can reach without dislodging you. “Such a good girl. Even if you think you’re being bad.”
You flush, hide your face against his neck. He chuckles, honeybalm on your soul. Can feel his hand start to move, then pause as he remembers that you can’t handle that stimulation right after sex. So he just squeezes, slow and gentle, helps get you back in your body.
“I still want you,” he assures, echoing your mantra back at you. “Always will. You’re mine.”
You outline a heart shape onto his forearm, not quite able to speak yet. He recognize the feeling though and gently guides your face up to place a slow, gentle kiss to your lips.
“Love you, too, babygirl. Ready to clean up?”
You nod. He eases you up, lets you cling onto his hand as he walks you to the en suite. Fills you a glass of cool water to sip on while he gets the shower running. Turns his back while you use the restroom and wash your hands, then guides you into the hot water.
You lean into him, near boneless, as he washes you, calloused palms with soap instead of a cloth. Then sits still, hands on your hips, while you return the favor. This part is one of the most important for you, getting to freely return touch.
(Simon hardly ever let you touch, especially in the aftermath. Sure, you could scratch and grip at him during sex, but during foreplay it was all part of his dom persona that you couldn’t just touch at will. And afterwards… well. It’s not like he didn’t do aftercare. He did! But the almost formulaic warm cloth wipe down, glass of water, doze for a bit before he left was not… not ideal. Not like this.)
Your captain hums, eyes half-lidded but trained on you, while you smooth your palms over the firms planes of his muscles. Fingers tracing over tattoos and scars. Squishing and patting at the healthy layer of tissue over his stomach and thighs. Lets you nuzzle and kiss his soft cock, even though it makes his fingers twitch with oversensitivity.
Squeezes when you lace fingers together to stretch his arm out, inspecting the lines your nails carved into him.
“M’okay, baby,” he says before you can ask. “Feels good.”
You similarly assure him over the bruises on your wrists and hips, smiling and leaning up to kiss his jaw.
When the shower is over, he dries you off, playfully ruffling your hair just to kiss the pout off your lips. He dresses you in one of his shirts and a spare pair of your own joggers, found in his duffel.
You sit with him for a while longer still, enjoying how he lets himself relax once he knows you’re taken care of. He lies with his head on your chest, your fingers fluffing his hair, while the two of you watch an episode of some stupid show Keegan got the rest of the team into.
Only when it’s over does he ask if you’re ready to go to Nikto’s. If you wanted to stay, you could. Nikto would understand. But you’re looking forward to a night with your quiet Russian while the other three have a little movie night.
At the door, you kiss your captain goodnight. Hug and kiss Keegan and Nova as you pass them in the hall headed to his room. Nova makes a point of kissing one of the bruises on your wrist, while Keegan whispers that he loves you.
You pad to the first door in the hall, where Nikto has stationed himself as the team guard dog. You tap gently at the door, a pre-determined pattern to let him know who it is.
The door cracks open, one startling blue eye peering from the darkness.
“Evening, Nik,” you coo.
A hand reaches out and gently yanks you inside. And then next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in thick arms devoid of any usual covering. You feel smothered, in a good way.
“Love,” he rasps in Russian into your hair.
You hum in return. Place your palms flat on his abdomen. The muscles clench, you pause as you realize his abs, impressive as they are, feel too defined. He needs water. Taking mental note, you draw your hands carefully around, feeling the raised bumps of wicked scars. Make sure he can track exactly where and how you’re touching until your arms are wrapped around him in a return hug.
“Smell good,” he murmurs.
“Yeah?” You giggle. “Showered just for you.”
He snorts, then scoops you up. You make a delighted noise, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries you across the room. Of course his navigation is impeccable, even in pitch black. He lays you down on the bed, but before he can crawl up with you, you place a hand on his shoulder.
“You’re dehydrated.”
He makes an annoyed noise, sounds like he’s about to protest. You shush him with a quick peck to his chest.
“Get a glass please? I could use some water myself.”
Which has him instantly moving. You politely turn away as the bathroom light flicks on, the water runs. Can hear him chug two entire glasses before he fills it one final time. The light turns off again. The bed dips as he returns, presses the cool edge gently to your cheek.
“Thank you,” you murmur, sipping about a quarter of it to appease him before he sets aside for you on a bedside table.
And then he gets what he really wants, stripping you down and tucking you in like a nesting bird. Practically on top of you while you’re still reeling from how much skin you can feel. Even during intimacy, he tends to stay clothed or mostly clothed. But right now all you can feel is a pair of underwear against your bare ass. Everywhere else it’s miles of warm skin, uncovered muscle and texture of scars.
“This is nice,” you coo. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
You wiggle around until you’re chest to chest. Start with his hands. Kiss each smooth fingertip, prints flayed off. Then his palms, the divots from nails driving through. Flip them over to kiss his scarred knuckles, smile at the way he twitches, flexing them outward like he’s trying not to close his hand.
“Okay?” You ask.
“Yes.”
You kiss his wrists, his forearms, to his collarbone. You’ve peeked a blue-black tattoo there before. Stars and the start of something that might be religious. Spend a little extra time there, tongue peeking out. He shifts; you take it as a sign of discomfort and move on.
“Here next,” he says when you dip to go to his chest.
He guides your face up his neck, where you press long (but chaste) kisses until you bump his jaw. And realize that’s all skin too.
“Oh,” you breathe. “Can I…?”
“Yes.”
You feather your lips along his fresh-shaved jaw, the nicked scars on his chin. Then up, ignoring the wicked scar along his cheek. Breathe against his temple, feeling dizzy with the trust he’s showing you.
“I love you,” you whisper, continuing along to his nose, twice broken and poorly set each time. A line over one nostril where a piercing was ripped out. He makes a noise in his throat, think he might be having trouble speaking again. Don’t mind.
He lets you get down to his mouth, where a particularly twisted scar warps part of his upper lip away from his teeth. You think that if you saw it in the light, his canine would be visible. His lower lip is uneven too, like a misaligned seam.
You don’t pay any special attention to any of it, focused more on reacquainting yourself with how your mouth fits with his. He doesn’t lead, doesn’t rush or pull or press. But there’s tension all along his body, everywhere you touch. You don’t ask for more than a chaste kiss, and when you pull away, you tilt your forehead gently against his.
“Still okay?” You ask.
“Still okay.”
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Masterlist
#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#the captain#cod nikto#the captain x reader#specgru reader#former 141 reader#nikto x reader
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Stage Sex - Fellow Honest x Fem Reader (Part One)
�� summary: Fellow convinces you to become his latest star, taking your virginity shibari style in front of a live audience. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: afab fem reader. Porn with plot – if the plot is him convincing you to partake in the porn. I didn't write this with the intent of it being dubcon (in my mind, reader is a willing participant, and I never describe her as otherwise), but please err on the side of caution if you're sensitive to that. It's starring Fellow Honest, after all – he comes prepackaged with manipulation skills. He does use a bit of his UM after reader already consents, and I refer to his magic as hypnosis, playing into the fact that you're obedient to him and he can use you as he pleases. There is a MAJOR VOYEURISM theme to this. He calls you names like "good girl", "slut" and "whore". In part 1 he helps bring you to clitoral orgasm for the first time while he jerks himself off. Also a few lines of cunnilingus and some fingering. Shibari bondage starts in part 2, additional warnings will be listed there. Please let me know in the comments if I missed a warning or tag idk I haven't written something of this caliber before. ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 7.2k words because I'm DERANGED ༶༶༶ 🌟 song: Carousel - Melanie Martinez "And it's all fun and games... 'til somebody falls in love"
Fellow Honest’s tail swung back and forth. He had certainly done his research, and all of that hard work would finally pay off. He watched as you entered the theme park, skulking in the shadows behind the rest of the students. You struck him as an outcast—no friends, no family. A beautiful girl from another world, with a figure that would make even the Gods themselves lust after. The only magicless human girl at the all boy’s magic college. Nothing to lose. How perfect.
“Hello, Miss…?” Fellow’s eyebrow raises as he tilts his head, leaning towards you on his cane. His calculated, fox-like eyes drink in every inch of you. Extending his right arm out to you, he welcomes your hand into his.
“Y/N,” you answer, a bit startled at his overt friendliness. Yet, you allow his white satin glove to grasp firmly around your hand.
“What a lovely name for such a breathtaking woman.” He bows forward to kiss your hand, maintaining fierce eye contact. In one swift motion, he turns toward his amusement park, wipes his mouth clean of your touch, and proudly waves his arm in the air to show off his property.
“Miss Y/N! Welcome to Playfulland!” he boasts. He turns back toward you, weaseling his way deeper into your personal space. “It is an incredibly rare occasion to welcome someone as beautiful as you into my humble little park.”
You dismiss his praise with a flick of your palm and a shake of your head, desperately hoping not to blush. “Oh, no need to be so modest, dear. A shape like yours could make any man fall in love. I doubt the students at the college are the only ones that appreciate it.” A sly smile is plastered on his face while his eyes continue to look you up and down with intention. Your mind runs wild as you try not to absolutely melt into his praise. “Are you sure you’re not a talking doll? It’s a marvel that a woman so flawless could exist.”
You smile softly and look to the ground, cheeks burning. You tuck a strand of hair awkwardly behind your ear, stalling for composure. How are you supposed to respond to a handsome, magnetic stranger saying all the right things? Not a single soul has spoken so highly of you since you found yourself trapped in this world, forced to attend Night Raven College. Your growing ego leaves you no choice but to soak it all in.
“Tell me, Miss Y/N. Have you ever thought about becoming a performer?” He doesn’t pause to let you answer. “Why waste your valuable early 20’s by studying and attending lectures and surrounding yourself with pathetic boys? Women as blessed as you are don’t need a degree. Surely a wealthy man can care for you far beyond a measly degree. And while you wait for him, why not fill your days with fame, riches, and adoration from performing on my stage?”
You stand in a stunned silence. This guy isn’t holding anything back, is he? Charm and charisma ooze from each syllable, making your heart race. It feels a little wrong, basking in the praise of a stranger like this. But you feel beyond lonely and underappreciated at NRC. You long to feel wanted and cared about. Why not give this attractive, complimentary man a chance?
Before you know it, the fox beastman's arms are wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer to him. "Oh, how rude I am!" he exclaims. "I haven't even given you my name."
"Allow me to properly introduce myself." With a quick spin of his heels, he steps back and bows, taking your hand once again. "The name's Fellow Honest, owner of Playfulland." He lifts his head, keeping his eyes locked on yours. "But please, you're welcome to call me whatever you'd like." He winks.
You could have sworn you felt a physical spark. Suddenly lightheaded, you pull your hand from his grasp, heart pounding in your chest. You can't take your eyes off him. You can't tell if your nervous system is trying to tell you to run towards or away from him. The longer you stare into his fire-orange eyes, the weaker your knees feel. He’s so close you can feel the heat emanating off of his body—is his perfume made of magic?
Something inside of you urges you to step away and re-evaluate. "Uh... I should probably get back to my friends," you stammer, trying to get your legs to move. "I'm sure they're wondering where I went. Thank you for the, uh, offer, though. I’ll think about it."
Fellow's arm is suddenly around your waist yet again, his fingers pressed firmly against your lower back as he pulls you close. Your eyes widen and your breathing hitches as you make contact with his chest. You feel his lips brush against your ear, and he whispers, "I have to insist, my dear. My employees are quite skilled, but you'd be the best thing that has graced my stage in years. It would be an honor to have someone of your caliber work for me."
His proximity. His hot breath on your ear. His possessive touch digging into the soft skin of your back. You feel a familiar flutter deep in between your thighs—you like this. You want to protest, to push him away, but the electricity between you is hypnotizing. His aroma—sweet wine and fresh roses—only adds to the spell, drowning out all logic and giving way to your body’s desperate pleas to take the lead.
"I have an office inside the theater where we can discuss this further, if you'd like," he purrs, and you can feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. "And please, take all the time you need. You're welcome to stay the night. We have luxurious rooms available—a small taste of the lifestyle you’d have if you make the right choice. I'll have someone escort you back to campus if you change your mind."
Your eyes dart around, desperately looking for a familiar face—a way out. Where the Hell did Ace go?! What about Leona or Trey–surely your upperclassmen should have stuck around to make sure the only magically defenseless student isn’t being taken advantage of by any sexy, suspicious strangers. Not to mention the fact that you’re the only girl at school. Chivalry must be extinct in Twisted Wonderland. You feel your heart drop: maybe they never cared about you at all.
Fellow's tail flicks in excitement as he watches your expression. Your eyes are wide and panicked, and he can sense your desperation. He smothers his own smile as your body language slowly indicates defeat. How utterly effortless! He has you right where he wants you. You're his to play with, and no one is there to stop him.
"Come now, dear, it won't hurt to indulge a little," Fellow coos sweetly. Your brain short circuits, blocking all thoughts unrelated to the electrifying feeling of his slender fingers dancing along your waistline. "You're already here! Why not stay and have some fun?" His lips find their way to your neck and you let out a soft gasp as a pulsing warmth radiates from your cunt.
"Fine," you finally whisper.
Fellow chuckles victoriously against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "I knew you’d be such a good girl." He spins you around, the sexual tension forcibly dissipating as he rips you from your lascivious thoughts and begins walking you down the cobblestone path. His hand rests on the small of your back, and his cane taps merrily against the concrete as you go. Your mind is still reeling from the shocking exchange, and you can barely match his pace as he escorts you to the grand theater.
You stifle a blush as you hear park goers whisper amongst themselves, eyes glued on you, mouths falling open. "Who is that? Is she a celebrity?”
“She looks like a supermodel,” a woman chimes in, her tone covetous.
Fellow would never waste an opportunity for free advertisement. He turns his head toward the group as you both keep walking. “Stick around ‘til after dark and you might just see this beauty show it all off on my grand stage!” He shouts, waving his cane in the air.
The two of you enter the theater and Fellow wastes no time leading you up the stairs toward a private hallway. His hand never leaves your waist. You pass several doors before reaching a pair of large, heavy wooden doors, which Fellow opens with ease.
You can't help but gawk at the size of his office. A massive, ornate wooden desk sits in the middle of the room, flanked by shelves lined with books and trinkets. There's a fireplace and two plush leather couches, as well as a small bar in the corner of the room.
"Please, make yourself at home," Fellow says as he closes the door behind him. He makes his way over to the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine with two glasses. You perch on one of the leather couches and he joins you, placing the wine and glasses on the table in front of you. As you inspect his office, you can't help but feel drawn to a mannequin adorned with a gorgeous bejeweled brassiere and matching pants—if there’s enough coverage to even call them that. Your faces heat up, and you quickly turn away.
"Beautiful, isn't it? One of my favorites," Fellow says, following your gaze. "Unfortunately, no one has had the pleasure of modeling it just yet." He furrows his brows in disappointment. He pops the cork on the wine bottle and begins to pour. "Maybe tonight will be the night. How lucky for me that I have the perfect model."
Something is starting to feel very exciting about all of this. You’ve never had an opportunity to wear such a costume. After being enrolled in Night Raven College only because Crowley didn't know what else to do with you, being here is starting to feel quite freeing. And the way Fellow looks at you… you’ve never felt more attractive. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, gifting you the courage and desire to be exactly who he believes you to be.
"Would you like to try it on?"
The question catches you off guard. He's now looking smugly at you. Your cheeks flush red, but you hold eye contact.
"Wh-what?"
"The outfit, Darling," Fellow says, nodding his head toward the mannequin. "You can try it on if you'd like." You take a long sip of red wine, savoring the smooth fruitiness. It immediately goes to your head, and you can't help but down the rest of it.
"Come now, Love," Fellow says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We both know what you want."
You stare at the outfit and then back at him. Your whole body feels like it's on fire. This is a bad idea, right? Or is it?
"Okay," you say, almost surprising yourself.
Fellow claps his hands together in delight. "Wonderful! Don't worry, I'm a gentleman—I'll look away while you get changed."
You make your way over to the mannequin, wobbling a bit from the alcohol. The bra is a dark purple while the jewels are varying shades of blue, making the whole outfit glitter like the night sky. The "pants" are a matching, dark purple lace thong, with ribbon and jewel embellishments. There is a sparkling, sheer miniskirt attached, more of an accentuation than actual coverage. You reach out to touch the fabric, marveling at how silky it feels. It's so sexy. Imagining yourself wearing it on stage in front of thousands of people, with everyone staring at you, craving you, makes you a bit wet with excitement. Maybe you do want this.
You look at Fellow one more time to ensure he’s not peeping.
Reader, take note that Fellow is, in fact, peeping—through his pocket mirror that he is blocking with his body. He’s far too good at this.
Feeling secure, you unbutton your uniform blazer, letting it slide off your shoulders and onto the floor. You undo the buttons of your shirt next, slowly exposing your bare chest.
Fellow bites his lip as he stares into the mirror, watching in awe as you undress. Your body is even more incredible than he could have imagined.
You slip off your shorts and underwear next, leaving you completely naked except for your bra. Your hands fumble a bit as you unhook the costume, letting it fall to the floor.
Fellow feels his pants tighten.
You can feel yourself getting more aroused, the excitement of being naked in a room with a stranger—soon to show off a revealing costume—starts to go to your head. You grab the brassiere off the mannequin, throwing your arms through the loops, eager to see if you look as good in it as you hope you will.
Fellow takes his sweet time watching in the pocket mirror. He grins, pleased with your inexperience, watching carefully so that he can see every inch of your struggle, savoring in it. “Oh, how easy this is,” he thinks.
After finally finding the right combination of hooks and clasps, you manage to get the brassiere fastened. You gasp softly, feeling the cool jewels press against your nipples through sheer fabric. You can't help but feel like it was made specially for you. The way it pulls your boobs together to create perfect, plump cleavage gives you actual pride. You shimmy the panties on next, loving the way the lacy fabric rubs against your clit as you pull the thong taut against your hips—a tingling reminder that your body is desperate for any sort of friction that may be interpreted as pleasure. You give your ass a little shake as you put on the skirt, reveling in how good the material feels as it brushes against your bare skin. Engrossed in your own experience, you’re completely unaware that you're giving Fellow quite the show.
He can't help but lick his lips, reaching down to massage his groin through his slacks.
You spin around and strike a pose for your imaginary crowd, feeling powerful.
"Are you ready, my love?" Fellow asks, startling you out of your daydream.
He pockets his mirror and adjusts the front of his pants, trying to disguise his erection as best he can.
"I'm ready."
"Show me what you've got," he says. You both turn around to face each other and he gasps, his eyes widening and mouth falling open.
"My goodness, darling," he whispers. "You're exquisite."
The way he's looking at you makes you feel like the sexiest woman alive. You take a step forward, heart pounding in your chest. Fellow stands up, taking his cane in his hand. He walks over to you and stalks circles around you, gazing up and down as though inspecting merchandise. You yelp as his cold, hard cane smacks your ass.
Finally he stops directly in front of you, meeting your gaze once again. "Oh, Darling, you're an absolute vision." He cups your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb across your lips. He wears a sinister smile, and you feel your mouth run dry as you finally realize how sharp his fangs are. You're almost certain he can tell how turned on you are right now.
He pulls away to replenish your wine glass.
"I can't wait to see you dance, my dear. You're going to be a star." He gazes dramatically into the distance, waving his hand like he’s envisioning your name written in dazzling lights. He hands you the full glass and you gulp it down greedily, eager for the liquid courage. You don't even care that this man is a total stranger—it actually makes it hotter.
"Oh, one more thing," Fellow says. He stands up and walks over to the mannequin, opening a drawer next to it and grabbing a matching set of lacy thigh highs. He kneels down in front of you, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he slips the stockings onto your feet. He repeats the process on your other leg, taking his time to run his hands up and down your thighs.
You bite your lip and look away, feeling embarrassed by how wet you are. He's so close to where you want him to touch you, and you're not sure how much longer you can stand this before giving in and doing something you might later regret.
Fellow stands up, his hands gliding up your legs as he does. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up so you're forced to look at him.
"What a naughty little minx," he whispers. "You're practically dripping." He smirks, once again bearing his fangs in the process.
Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink.
Fellow laughs. "Oh, there's no use hiding it, love. I can smell it." He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal. "It’s heavenly."
God dammit. You can't help but throw your head back in frustration from being outed so easily. Never underestimate a beastman's sense of smell.
He lets go of your chin and steps away from you. You let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you were holding.
"Don't worry, darling," he says, making his way back to the bar. "I'll make sure you're properly taken care of." He refills his glass and downs it. He doesn't know how long he's going to be able to wait until he's inside you.
You try to get back on track to a more... professional topic. "So, is this the type of outfit I would wear if I were to perform?" You try to sound as innocent as possible.
Fellow laughs a slow, deranged, almost maniacal laugh that makes your skin crawl. "Oh, no, darling. Outfits like these are reserved for the backup dancers. With the plans I have for you, you'll be wearing far less." He sets his wine glass on his desk and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a roll of thin, dark brown rope. Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks toward you, unraveling the rope as he goes.
You stumble backwards instinctively and even in your drunken haze, you start trying to take note of your surroundings and look for the exit. "Is this a joke?" you ask, trying to sound as calm as possible. "You know you don't need to tie me up if you want me to stay, right?" You try your best to reason with him and hope to God you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way.
"Oh, I'm not tying you up to get you to stay, Miss Y/N." He puts on his most pleasant and agreeable facial expression, lips contorting into an innocent cat-like smile, eyes crinkled as he feigns benevolence. "It smells to me like you'd do that all on your own. Am I correct?" He tilts his head toward you and gazes into your soul with piercing, knowing eyes.
He makes a show of walking over to the door and opening it, waving his hand through the open air of the doorframe. "Make no mistake, I'm certainly not forcing you to stay here. You are welcome to leave right now. I'll even let you keep the outfit, if you’d like." He gives you a knowing smirk and continues to hold the door open.
You gulp, feeling the familiar heat between your thighs grow stronger. Your mind is racing, trying to think of every possible rationalization to feel safe staying—anything to get your pussy the relief it deserves. If he really was a predator—you try to reason with yourself—you'd probably be dead by now. And he was right, you do feel like you could get off, just from being tied up. Your body seems to be the decision-maker here, and it’s telling you to stay.
You shake your head at his offer. "No, I'm good."
"Wonderful," he purrs, his expression darkening. He slams the door shut and turns the lock, letting the thud of the door ricochet through your body. "Now then! The reason I am tying you up is for your performance. Just a few short hours until showtime!" He steps forward, closing the gap between you. He runs his fingertips down your bare arm, stopping to wrap them around your wrist. You shiver at his touch, your body instinctively leaning toward him, yearning for more. Your face flushes red with embarrassment and arousal. You don't understand how he's able to turn you on so easily.
"You see, my dear," Fellow begins, his voice soft and seductive, "I'm not the only one who's been watching you hungrily." You feel his hot breath on your neck as he brings his lips close to your ear. "Believe me, Doll, they're going to love what they see." He takes your hand in his and places it on the bulge in his pants. His cock throbs beneath his clothes and your eyes widen at how big he is.
"I'm not just a magician, but a master of hypnosis as well," he elucidates.
He's never before been so forthcoming in his whole career, but there's just something about you that makes him want to be upfront.
Truthfully, he hasn't had to use any hypnosis magic at all to persuade you. No, you wanted this on your own. Despite your innocence and reluctance—you wanted him. His cold heart skips a beat at the thought. He releases your hand and once again cups your cheek. He pushes a thumb past your lips and forces you to suck on it. A deep moan escapes his lips as the sensation of your soft tongue against his thumb runs straight to his aching loins. Removing his thumb from your mouth, he slides it down your chin, tracing your jawline before moving to your neck. You arch your back and press your body against his, feeling the tip of his thumb press along your jugular, sending chills down your spine.
"And I can assure you that by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect little hypnotized whore." You shudder as his tongue traces the side of your neck—it feels so good. He continues to drag his tongue up to your ear, and you moan loudly as he suckles your earlobe. Your knees are giving out, so you wrap your arms around him for support. "That's the beauty of my magic, love. No prior experience necessary. I'll ensure you put on the show of a lifetime. Simply allow yourself to enjoy the ride." You whimper softly, unable to form coherent thoughts or speak intelligibly, too caught up in the way he's pleasuring you.
"But don't worry, Love," he says, his voice low and raspy. "You'll still remember everything when we're done."
Your head is dizzy, trying desperately to process his every word. You can't stop yourself from moaning as his hands continue to explore. As far as the current circumstances go, nothing matters, as long as he’s making you feel this damn good. He takes his time groping and squeezing wherever—and whatever—he can get his greedy hands on, relishing in the opportunity to touch your perfect frame.
Looking into your eyes, he's suddenly overcome with emotion—unusual for him. This isn't something he's ever done with his employees, but there is a twinge in his chest willing him to do it. Perhaps—just this once—he can deviate from the script. Fellow hungrily crashes his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. You melt against him, opening your mouth to grant him entry. You feel yourself losing control as he dominates your mouth, exploring every inch with his tongue. You grip onto his hair, pulling him closer. His fangs lightly graze your bottom lip and it makes you shiver. The way he kisses you is so possessive and needy, and it's driving you wild. You've never been kissed like this before. His hands travel down your body and grip your ass tightly, causing you to yelp. Your hands claw at his blue coat and green vest, desperately trying to remove his clothes so you can feel his bare skin. He growls into your mouth before breaking the kiss.
"Eager little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs against your lips.
You nod in response, gasping when he suddenly pulls away. Seeing how needy you are, he smirks, delighted at how much you want him.
"Oh, Darling. Why don't you save that for the audience?" he teases. "You're going to put on a good show for them, aren't you?"
"Yes, I'll do my best. I promise I'll make you proud," you gasp, feeling even more aroused by his words.
"That's a good girl." Fellow paces the room, circling you like a vulture. You can feel his eyes on you and can't help but squirm under his gaze. He grabs the rope from earlier, stopping right in front of you. His cane appears in his grasp, seemingly out of thin air. "Such a perfect little slut, so eager to please. I bet you'd do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you?" he asks, spinning his cane with the flick of his fingers, utilizing his hypnosis magic for the first time that day. He needs to ensure your loyalty lies with him.
"Yes." You answer without reluctance.
Fellow's cane magically disappears from his hand. "Such a good little whore." He takes a strand of your hair in his fingers and twirls it before gently tucking it behind your ear. "Now, a few more formalities before we get you ready for the stage. Shall we?" You flinch at the sound of him smacking the rope against the floor, like he's trying to command a circus animal.
Your mind is fuzzy, body practically burning with desire—you don't even notice him guiding you to his desk. He bends you over the hard wood, your breasts and stomach pressing against the cool surface. He presses his body against yours, his erection grinding between your ass cheeks, and you can't help but moan. Fellow rips off his gloves, tossing them aside. His right hand snakes around your body and reaches into your panties, his fingers rubbing against your wet clit. He slips a finger inside you—finally.
"My, my…" he whispers. "So wet for me already. You’ll look so beautiful when you're on stage for everyone to see. My precious little toy."
Your breathe heavier as he continues to fuck you with his finger, tantalizingly slow. Just as you open your mouth to beg for more, he slips his finger out of you and slams a contract on the table in front of you.
"I need you to sign this first. Standard contract," he says casually. "This is a business, after all." He drops a pen within your reach. All the while, he continues grinding against you, his clothed cock rubbing against the sheer fabric of your panties, further tantalizing your throbbing clit. "Go ahead, Darling. I can't wait to show you off."
You sign your name on the dotted line, quickly dismissing what seems to be the final roadblock in your path to pleasure. There's nothing else in your psyche than how badly you need him to fuck you. Your pussy aches with desire—you can't wait any longer. "Please. Please, fuck me," you whimper, begging him to give you what you want.
"Oh, Darling," he purrs. "All in due time."
Fellow leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I wonder how many people will come tonight just to see this pretty little body of yours?" he asks. "How many men and women will stare at you, touching themselves as you writhe in pleasure? I bet you can't wait for them to see how much of a needy little whore you are. You were born to be a star." His voice is soft and seductive as he plays on your desperation.
"Now. Let's get you out of these clothes." He expertly unhooks your bra with a single hand. With a swift yank, it falls to the floor, revealing your perfect tits, hard nipples on full display. "Beautiful. So deliciously plump and round, my flawless doll."
You're still bent over the table as his fingers snake into the elastic waistband of your skimpy skirt and thong. He pulls it taut, ready to tear it right off of you... but he hesitates, remembering its one-of-a-kind value. Squatting slightly, he gently pulls your skirt and panties to the floor, utilizing the opportunity to bask in the aroma and view of your now-exposed pussy. He grabs your thighs where the stockings are and, quite impatient, rolls them down as his fingernails trail lines down the flesh of your legs in the process. He guides your feet out of each leg hole, revealing your full nudity. Seeing your juices glisten makes his eyes light up, mouth curling into a grin. His mouth waters and he inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent. He can't help but lean for a taste, his tongue gliding against your folds and lapping up your essence. Your knees buckle as his warm, wet tongue explores your deprived cunt. Nothing has ever felt so good. Your entire body trembles and you cry out in pleasure. He keeps his hands firmly planted on your ass, holding you in place as he continues to lap up your pussy. It feels so good, it's almost painful. He pulls away after a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact.
"So, tell me, Love. Are you a virgin?" he asks with a sneaking suspicion. He traces his fingertips down your spine, awaiting your response.
You shudder, the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin is so tantalizing. "Yes," you answer, unable to hold back your excitement.
Fellow's eyes widen, surprised by how easy it was to get you to admit that. He smirks, continuing to caress your back. "Ah, perfect," he hums. "What a privilege it is to deflower you." He reaches for his phone on his desk and utilizes the speech to text feature to say one thing: “We’ve got a virgin.” He clicks the display off and gives you a wink. "The marketing team will start advertising for a very special show tonight. I wonder how many people will come to watch me break in a virgin? I'm sure we'll sell out! An incredibly rare specimen indeed."
His words send a chill down your spine. The thought of thousands of people watching you lose your virginity excites you even further, and you find yourself becoming increasingly aroused. Your whole body is hot—you can't help but squirm as your juices slowly drip down both legs. You shudder, picturing an entire audience getting aroused, their attention rapt on you. Just the thought of how many people will want you... all of those horny people, with their eager bodies and impatient erections at the sight of you losing your innocence. A hot sensation pools deep in your belly and your clit throbs with need. You roll your hips back toward him, wordlessly indicating your desires.
He pockets his phone, delighted that the plan is progressing so flawlessly. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever orgasmed before?" You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you shake your head. He grins, leaning in closer, his tail swishing between his legs and up onto your throbbing clit. It tickles so good. "Have you ever touched yourself?" Your body heats up, and a wave of shyness washes over you as you attempt to suppress a groan. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you to surrender yourself completely. "What a beautiful thing, modesty…" he muses. "Tell me, Dear. No need to be so shy." Your face is turning a dark crimson, and he's never found something so appealing in all his years.
"No. Not successfully," you answer softly. You've never been able to get yourself off. Your hands would wander as you'd lie in bed, desperate to find some sort of relief, but it never came. You've never had that pleasure before, and you were starting to think you may never experience it.
"Oh, Darling, you poor thing. I'll have to take care of that for you. I know all the tricks.” Hearing the zipper of his pants, you gasp in anticipation. He takes his cock out of his boxers and you feel the flesh of his hardened tip slide over your wet labia. He takes your hand in his and guides it to your clit, teaching you how to circle your fingers around it in the perfect motion.
"Just like that, Love," he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "You're doing so well. Doesn't that feel good?" You moan softly as he continues to guide you, his free hand on his cock, sliding up and down its length, using your never-ending juices as lubrication. He bucks his hips slightly as he starts to jerk himself off, letting out a quiet moan, teasing himself and rubbing his cock head against the sopping wet folds of your untouched pussy—knowing he has to save it if he wants a fruitful show. The way your face contorts and your lips part with desperate pleasure, he suddenly has to fight himself not to lose control and break your hymen right then and there.
Knowing that Fellow can’t help but touch himself to you amplifies the pleasure even further. Your fingers continue to dance over your clit and for the first time, it feels amazing. Every nerve in your body is electrified, your breath coming in short pants. Your hand feels like it's floating through space as he moves you like a puppet, directing your motions the way that he wants you. He rubs himself a bit faster as he watches you writhing, becoming more desperate and vocal than before. His own lust becomes insatiable. He’s sculpting you into the perfect masterpiece, just the way he likes it—his own custom sex toy.
"Just imagine all those people in the audience," he murmurs. His hand quickens on his cock and he groans. His hand over yours speeds up to match his pace, and he adds more pressure to show you exactly how to pleasure yourself. "All of those hungry eyes on you, craving every inch of you…" His hips jerk slightly and he moans, losing himself to his own dirty thoughts. Your clit is throbbing so painfully that tears begin to form at the edges of your eyes. He has never seen anyone become so intoxicated with the simple idea of him before, and you don't even realize how loud and desperate your moans and cries have become. His face flushes every time you scream his name, and your beautiful expression fills him with the greatest satisfaction, an image forever imprinted in his brain. The sight of you, so eager to please him—he knows now that he'll never let you go.
You feel yourself approaching explosion—the very first time—and your muscles tense in response. "Oh, fuck, every single one of them will be touching themselves, getting off to the sight of you, desperate to be where I am right now. And here you are, moaning my name as I prepare you, just aching for me to bring you to your first orgasm. You'll look so beautiful when I pop that sweet little cherry of yours."
He groans and bucks his hips, jerking himself off faster and faster. Your clit throbs, ready to explode. "You want to cum, don't you, darling?" His voice is low and husky, and he pants heavily. "Cum for me, darling, cum for me. I want to hear you scream for me." Your toes curl, knees buckling in ecstasy. He guides your hand even faster over your clit. "That's it, Love, just let go." His voice is the sweet encouragement that pushes you over the edge, almost on command. You feel a strange electricity ripple through your leg muscles, a release that exceeds every single thing you thought you knew about pleasure.
Your first true orgasm rips through your body like a tornado, tearing apart any inhibitions and preconceived notions about reality. Everything around you turns bright white as euphoria sweeps through your body, wave after wave leaving you moaning and shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Your legs feel like jelly, and it becomes impossible to hold yourself up. His fingers leave yours, transferring their tight grip to your hair, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as he fucks himself furiously to the sight of you. You were like putty in his hand, melting and molding according to his wishes—a perfect, brainwashed, fucked-out little slut.
Fellow lets out a strained grunt as he orgasms, painting your ass with his seed. He can't help but sigh in pleasure as he gazes lovingly at the blank and pliant expression on your face as he drains the rest of himself onto you. He sighs as his last spurts dribble from the tip of his cock, admiring how much he's marked you as his. You're still shaking and whimpering as you come down from your high, your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes glazed over and staring into nothing. You look absolutely fucked out, and he takes a moment to admire your blissful expression before finally releasing you from his grip. He gives you a small push, causing you to fall forward onto your hands. He takes a step back to admire his handiwork—your thighs are soaked with your own cum, and your ass is dripping with his.
"Such a good girl," he praises. "You did such a good job for me. You're going to be the best performer I’ve ever had. It's about time we take you to the stage to get you set up, my dear. You’re better than I could have ever imagined.” You can only gasp, too wrecked from your pleasure to respond in words. Fellow grins with satisfaction, memorizing the sight of his seed glistening all over your back, chuckling to himself as he wipes it off with a tissue. He tosses the tissue into a random corner of his office and then helps you find your footing again.
Gently lifting your chin, his gaze softens, mouth opening to form a gentle smirk. His thumb brushes against your trembling bottom lip, a caring and fond expression overtaking his features.
Your heart leaps into your throat as you begin to question the warmth in his smile and his affectionate gaze. Is your body's chemical response misreading signals, or are you witnessing evidence that Fellow perhaps has a bit more going on than simply taking sexual interest? A new, deeper desire to understand the mysterious man behind the curtain of your own experience begins to bloom in your mind. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your cheek. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips and you return it, savoring the way his soft lips feel against yours. It feels so intimate, like a lover's kiss, and your heart flutters in your chest. You pull away and look into his eyes once more, trying to figure out what he's thinking, but you can't read his expression. His face is completely unreadable, granting you no indication as to whether you're making any progress in decoding him.
He takes off his coat and helps you put it on, wrapping you up to ensure your modesty is protected for your short walk to the stage. He takes your hand and guides you out of his office, your legs still shaking from climax.
You walk together in silence, hand in hand, your head still spinning as you try to process everything that just happened. You can't believe how incredible your first orgasm felt, and you're already craving another.
"What are you thinking about, Darling?"
"I'm thinking about how I’ve never felt that good before," you admit, blushing slightly.
Fellow chuckles. "That's very sweet," he says. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll be sure to give you many more orgasms in the future." His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing for him.
You continue walking in silence until you arrive at the stage. Fellow stops in front of the stage door and turns to face you.
"Are you ready, Love?" he asks, his voice gentle. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. His carnelian gaze holds yours, his hot breath dancing across your fingers. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Your heart swells and you feel yourself melting.
You nod enthusiastically and squeeze his hands, hoping he doesn't pick up on your nervous, pounding heartbeat. "I'm ready," you affirm, gazing intently into his beautiful, half-lidded eyes, feeling braver and more confident than you have all day.
He flashes a subtle smile. "Wonderful." He gives you one last peck on the cheek before turning to open the stage door. He places his free hand on your lower back and guides you onto the stage, leading you towards the center, where the lighting crew are busy at work. He introduces you and makes a show of presenting you to the crew—holding out your arm like he would for a debutante entering a ball, a prince presenting his chosen partner to a ballroom dance. The crew whistle and holler as you walk onto the stage. All you can do is stand there with the distinct smile of a hypnotized-yet-willing participant in the world's most eccentric 18+ theater. Their ogling is the furthest thing from your mind, as your attention remains firmly rooted on the charismatic manager in your grasp.
"Sorry, Boys. This one is mine. No one can have her but me." He places his hand on the side of your arm and pulls you close to him, draping an arm over your waist possessively.
As you glance up, your breath catches and your heart skips a beat; your adoring, hungry gaze is returned by his, a mirror of your own emotions shining through in his flaming irises. There's something strange about his stare—there always is. His face betrays some of that vulnerability again, an instance where he's truly letting his guard down, a crack in his meticulous and calculated visage. It’s a warm hint of softness that signals what he said to the crew might ring true outside of these walls as well.
Fellow turns back toward the crew as a new scene is placed before them, and within a split second, he resumes his demeanor of a business-oriented gentleman. "One hour ‘til showtime. Make her shine, People! We want the audience drooling the second she gets on stage!" He holds out his hand, his cane reappearing like magic. "Have fun in makeup!" He winks at you, the flick of his head gesturing you away.
Stylists appear behind you, and you reluctantly release your hold on him. He flashes a reassuring smile as you are guided away, a bewitchingly charming smile settling onto his lips. You head backstage, and he turns to get back to business.
Damn, if you made it all the way down here... wow. Thank you so much for spending this time with me. If you enjoyed this, that means a lot to me because this is pretty much just a self indulgent fic I started writing as soon as Fellow dropped without really knowing too much about him. I haven't begun writing part two, but I have my general ideas of where I want it to go. If you have suggestions for part two, please comment or send me an ask, I'd love to hear your thoughts! ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome
#Fellow Honest#Fellow Honest Smut#Twisted Wonderland Smut#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader smut#twst smut#twst x reader smut#twst fellow honest x reader smut#twst fellow honest smut#ferro honest#ferro honest smut#twst fellow#twst ferro#fellow honest x reader#ferro honest x reader#twisted wonderland fellow honest#stage in playful land#my writing
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take care of him, sunghoon's sick!
or alt. the pt 2 no one asked for... LOL
pairing: sunghoon x gn!reader headcannons! | wc: 800 | cw: food, sunghoon as a SIMPPP lots of kisses and cuddling
—
sunghoon does his best not to get sick whatsoever
he’s an athlete and a student, if he gets sick he falls behind on a LOT
but when he saw you in his puffer jacket and a smile at his competition, ofc he had to kiss you
you were his one and only and he loves you to death
simphoon!
smiling ear to ear on the drive home as you tell him how cool he always looks on the ice
he gets SHY
wdym his baby is complimenting him profusely
you two make food together, and although you’re still congested, you promise sunghoon you feel much better.
makes soup and noodles
yes he hugs you from behind yes he rests his chin on the top of your head
the man is 5’11 (and i’m 5’4 mmmm how perfect)
one kiss leads to another kiss and suddenly you’re giggling from the ticklish feeling and how he’s annunciating every “mwah!”
kisses all over your face
he snuggles with you on the couch when you eat, and actually cuddles you this time
“Someone’s clingy,” you joke, and he buries his head in your neck. “But it’s okay. I like it.”
hoon is all blush blush
“It’s been a long time, I missed you,” HE’S SO POUTY AND BABIE
You two definitely fall asleep with a light on, his legs tangled with yours, his hand around your waist holding you close.
Uh oh!
Sore throat.
“I think you got me sick.” You apologize like crazy, rushing to make him some egg drop soup and tea
“Shhh, Hoon, go back to bed, let me take care of you”
oh the man is WHIPPED head over HEELS he’s like omg what did I do in my past life to get someone as caring as ____
He’s also whiny, and kind of quiet
he is a thinker and a listener so when he’s sick, he’s even less inclined to talk or be his usual rambunctious self
It makes you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in such a miserable position
But he promised you it’s not your fault (even though it is) and that it’s not as bad as you think it is
no more feeling bad! You have to make sure sunghoon recovers as quick as he can
You separate medicine into little containers and makes sure he always leaves with warm tea, cough drops, gloves, and any medication if he needs
You drive him whenever, 1. because he is ur passenger princess! and 2. because you don’t want him to be stuck in traffic when tired
Always Always getting him layers
and now it’s your turn to refuse his kisses and hugs.
“____ I want to cuddle.”
You shake your head, a smile threatening to break your stoicism. “You’re sick, baby. You don’t want to get me sick again, do you?”
“But I miss you :(“ oh he definitely is following you around the house like a puppy trying to get you to give him forehead kisses and that sweet sweet tlc.
He sends you voicemails when you’re busy telling you “hi baby i’m at home still are you still coming over today?” violent coughing “i mizz u and i wuv u”
AGH so whipped for this boy im…
you come over with more soup and cuddles and love
he falls asleep halfway through his movie and you have to check his forehead to make sure he’s not having a fever
dishes are CLEANED everything is put away and then you go sleep on the couch
now lets say the couch is huge and there is space for two
WELL sunghoon wakes up in the middle of the night and sees you’re not in bed :(( so he goes out to the living space with his blanket and then just falls asleep on you
and you wake up like wtf i cannot breathe???
but oh it’s just hoonie bb its okay
HES SOOOOO CUTEEE
messy hair covering his forehead and eyes as he sleeps on your shoulder, hot breath fanning your neck
you just stay there until the afternoon because you could not try to untangle yourself even if you tried
but he’s better! at least he says so
he feels a lot more energetic, is attending practice for longer periods of time and more frequently, and you see the sparkle in his eyes again
YAYYYY BB HOON IS RECOVEREDDDDDD
you still dote on him until he’s completely better because you truly want to make sure he’s not overworking himself
agh he WILL marry you he will put a ring on your finger and boom you two have a white picket fence and two dogs and a cat.
—
hello it’s me ren again 🤓 mmmwah i love hoon
#enhypen#enha#enhypen au#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enha fluff#enha imagines#enha x reader#sunghoon#park sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon angst#park sunghoon#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon fluff#enhypen sunghoon#enha scenarios#enhypen scenarios#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon enhypen#sunghoon fanfic#park sunghoon imagine
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𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐔𝐏
𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mcd garroth, gene, laurance, travis
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff? literal hurt/comfort
𝐂𝐖: mentions of injuries but no in-depth descriptions
𝐀/𝐍: me when i spend more time finding the pictures for a good picture header than actually writing. i also did not proofread at all so i'm so sorry for any typos or hiccups in my writing
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇
the fight has long since been over, yet after searching every corner of the village, you still saw no sign of the head guard. as your last resort, you hurriedly rush across the ruined plaza, climbing over rubble as you descend into the village mines.
you find him there, tucked back in the main tunnel and slumped over as he holds a cloth over a gash on his side. his gloved hand fumbles with some medic supplies, though his shaky hold renders himself useless as they tumble to the floor.
“garroth,” you sigh, relieved but also annoyed by his insistence on never asking for help.
he flinches, caught off guard by the blood loss dulling his senses. even now, he stoically has every layer of his armor on except for his chest plate, even his helmet stays firmly against his skull.
“i’ll be alright, my lady,” he starts, though the pained wince he lets out a moment later immediately discounts him for his claims.
quietly, you approach him, kneeling in front of him and pulling the first aid items out of his grasp. while you can’t see his face, you hear him inhale sharply to protest against you. you silence him with a stern glare, to which he sinks back into the uncomfortable stone without a word.
“you are much too stubborn,” you chastise, reaching to his other hand to remove it from his wound. “your pride will get you killed.”
you cringe as he peels away the blood-soaked cloth to reveal a deep gash along his side. it's a slash and not a stab, thankfully, but it would still need stitches.
it seems he already knew that, based on the thread and needle he had yet to even tie together. while maneuvering the stitching thread into the eye of the needle, you listen to his shallow and shaky breathing underneath his helm.
“aren’t you having trouble breathing with that?”
“…no.”
your eyes dart up, narrowing at the eye slits of the metal in front of you.
“it's just me. i understand you want to hide your identity, but when it comes to your health—“
you lift your hands up to his helm, firmly placing them on each side before pausing, waiting to hear for any protests. when you hear none, you slowly lift the metal, sliding it off of his head and revealing what was underneath.
for just a moment you freeze, eyes locking onto his. his hair was a stunning sandy blonde that brushed over his brow line in soft curls. they stuck to his forehead, that had a sheen of sweat over it. you could tell his stunning eye color was dulled over by pain, eyelids drooping and his lips pale.
“…there,” you set the helm down, focusing back on his wound. “now you can breathe better, right?”
“…yes.” he winces, leaning back on your command and revealing his wound again.
carefully, you stitch the wound closed, lifting his linen shirt up enough to allow yourself to wrap the bandaging around his stomach. when you’re done you sit back, wiping your hands against your already dirtied clothes and releasing a deep sigh.
you look up, watching as his jaw clenches and his eyes dart to your feet. he still looks pale, but he at least looks more stable than before.
“garroth.” you call, voice barely above a whisper.
his eyes trail up to yours, hesitant and full of a strange sort of guilt.
“you did a good job protecting me. protecting the whole village. but even the strongest need help,” you take his hand in yours. “at least let one person take care of you in return. i was really worried about you.”
he doesn’t say anything, but you know he understands, swallowing down his deep-set need for independence to put himself in your shoes for a moment.
“there’s a cot down here. why don’t you rest, and i’ll bring you back some food and drink to help you regain your strength.”
𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄
you knew something was strange, when the beginnings of the evening cricket chirps grew silent, a heavy feeling settling around your cottage. despite the uneasiness and natural instinct that told you to run, you instead looked around the area for the source.
despite the lack of night critters, you notice a strange fluttering of butterflies dispersing from the other side of some shrubbery. you push through the leaves and twigs, noticing the further you advanced the more wilted the plants became.
on the other side was a man in strange armor you hadn’t seen before. the metal must’ve been smoldering hot, somehow, because the grass around it wilted and burned away from its touch. despite the strange sense of uneasiness in your chest, you take a few steps towards the man, his form slumped over a large stump.
“sir? are you alright?”
he flinches, hand moving unnaturally quick towards a large sword you didn’t realize he had by his side until now. you stumble back with a startled gasp, hands raising in surrender. dark circles line deep blue eyes, black hair stuck on his face where blood poured from a wound.
“i’m not an enemy!” you quickly say. “that injury looks bad, i can help. i’ll go get some bandages for you.”
you quickly run back to your cottage, retrieving your satchel of medical supplies before he could say a word. whoever he was, he seemed dangerous. and the faster you help him the quicker he’ll be on his way and the less likely anything else dangerous is led to you. when you return, he’s still there, though he’s propped himself up in a sitting position and leaning back against the stump.
“i don’t need any help.”
“well those wounds look pretty deep. and… you’re the one who ended up near my home, so,” you carefully approach him, heart beating erratically fast in your chest. it felt like you were approaching a predator—a wild animal pretending to be a man. “the faster i help you, the less likely whatever did this to you comes near my garden.”
his gaze stayed trained on you for a moment, piercing into you as you kneel next to him. his eyes were a beautiful shade, yet so strangely unsettling and dull. as you glance at them, it almost appears as no light shines from them at all. he smirks, a strangely amused laugh leaving his lips like he found your assistance to be completely entertaining.
“ah, there’s the motive.”
you ignore him, instead using a cloth to wipe away the blood from the side of his head.
“what’s your name?”
“what’s yours?”
you restrain a sigh, biting back the sarcastic quip you wanted to return and instead reciting your name back to him.
“…gene.”
“nice to meet you… gene. how did you get this hurt? are you…” you glance down at his strange armor and sword. “a guard, our some kind of soldier…?”
he says nothing.
“alright, then,” you clear your throat. “no more questions.”
you finish cleaning his head and neck, where another wound was, and carefully place the healing ointment you made from your own magicks herbs. trying to ignore the strange sense that you needed to run away, you finish up your work by placing bandages over the gashes… that seemed to already be healing pretty quickly.
“there. you’re set.”
a small, “thanks,” leaves his lips, and the two of you met eyes. he seems to contemplate something, before another huffing out another amused laugh.
“you’re very…naive. you should be careful.”
“…what?”
his hand is suddenly in front of your face, cold fingers touching against the skin of your forehead and dragging down, brushing your eyelids closed. somehow your eyes grow impossibly heavy, your head too much to hold up as you slump over, landing in the arms of ge…
…of…who again?
the birds chirp the next morning as you groggily wake from what felt like a coma of slumber. you feel like there was something important you needed to take care of, but you must’ve fallen asleep early last night. you must’ve been exhausted… you don’t even remember carrying yourself into bed.
oh, that’s right! you had to help… you had to… what was it you were up to last night?
your slump from where you sit, blinking at the floor in confusion.
it must not have been too important.
𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄
it’s terrifying, looking into blood red eyes where iridescent pale blue ones had been before. it had only been a split moment—you two were ambushed, a thief’s sword grazing against your cheek and knocking you backwards in surprise as a whole gang of them emerged from the tree line.
laurance suffered an arrow wound, but before you could panic it wasn’t his blood that soaked the ground… but instead the whole dozen of men who tried to attack you.
you stare horrified as dark red drips from him, unsure if it was his own or from the bodies around him. he’s breathing, so heavily, face turned away from you as he stills in the center of his carnage. a few moments pass like this, your eyes trained cautiously on the dulled shade of caramel hair that lays messily on his head.
“…laurance?” you call out quietly, your voice barely a timid whisper.
he turns to look at you, eyes red and glazed over as he begins to trudge towards you. something about the dark circles and his paled skin splattered with blood frightened you, your uncertainty heightened by his silence and now much taller frame. he towers over you, breaths heavy and sword still tightly gripped in his hand.
“it’s me!” you shakily yelp, regretting your reaction immediately when he flinches, eyes widening.
“…and i’m me.” he frowns, his larger hand brushing against your injured cheek. “you’re scared of me.”
“…no.”
he stares at you, eyebrows pinched together. he doesn’t call you out on your bluff with words, but the look he gives you is enough.
“i felt that something was off. i should’ve done something sooner.”
“it caught me off guard, too. we’re both tired, so—“
“i’m supposed to protect you. now you’re hurt.”
“it’s only a graze, laurance.” you silence his anger towards himself, your hands reaching up to cup his cheeks. “you’re hurt more than me.”
you reach in your satchel, pulling out some healing ointment and bandages you were sure to pack for the journey. he begins to shake his head, hand engulfing yours as he stops you.
“i’ll heal on my own. you know that shadow knights—“
“this will help you heal faster. and help with the pain.”
he sighs, taking a seat on a nearby rock and complying with your insistence despite the lack of need for it.
there were only a few gashes that were deep enough to not be sealed up immediately, dark red blood oozing from the lacerations. you put your focus on cleaning each one, swiping on the ointment and wrapping the bandages carefully onto his wounds.
when you look back up at his face those calm blue eyes have returned, staring back at you as they dart over your face. he takes the ointment from your hands, and with two fingers he motions for you to come closer.
you do so without much hesitation, allowing his finger to dip into the ointment and dab it across your injured cheek. he lingers his hand there for only a few moments longer, before looking away and putting your things back into your satchel.
“thank you, laurance.”
“stay right next to me,” he looks back up, tone and eyes insistent. “for the rest of the way. okay?”
it’s more of a demand than a request, but you simply nod in agreement, unable to refuse him.
“okay.”
𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒
“take your shirt off.” you sigh, sitting next to travis as you dig through your bag.
“woah!” he laughs, a cheeky smirk stretching across his face. “way to be direct.”
you pause, glaring over at him with an unimpressed stare.
“i will add to those injuries. just do it—“
“okay! okay!” he raises his hands up, wincing at the pull of his skin against his wounds. “ow…”
he begins to peel his bloodied tunic from his skin, wincing as he attempts to lift it over his shoulders. you restrain another sigh before you take a glance down at his injuries, instead feeling pitiful at the state he was in. standing in front of him, you help him slide the fabric over his head and off his arms, leaving his whole torso exposed.
a few previous scars litter across the skin, dipping into different divots of chiseled muscles. he was well built—he had to be for the large claymore he wielded—yet he was still lean, muscles standing out due to the low body fat he had.
“like what you see?” he smirks, catching your gaze that lingered a bit too long on his bare skin.
“no.”
he flinches at your quick refusal, jutting out his bottom lip.
“ouch, you’re so harsh.”
“why would i like seeing all of these wounds you’re covered in? you’re lucky it wasn’t any worse or you wouldn’t even be conscious right now,” you scold. “what were you thinking?”
“so you were worried about me…” he peeks up at you through his lashes, lips once again turning up in a satisfied smirk.
you roll your eyes, not saying anything as you begin to clean up his wounds. you can never catch a break with this guy, can you? despite his annoying flirtatious jokes, though, you really couldn’t help the worry and care you felt for him.
he hisses between clenched teeth as you accidentally press against a laceration too harshly, one of his hands reaching up to clasp against your wrist.
“a little more gentle, sweetheart.”
“sorry,” you mutter, shaking your head as you realize what you were thinking.
he doesn’t say anything, instead going quiet as you continue to patch him up. it’s not until you’re dabbing on ointment and healing potions that he speaks up again, his voice strangely soft and unsure.
“you were worried about me, right?”
you pause, glancing down at him. his eyes are strangely… pleading, cool green shining as he searches for an answer on your face.
you gently place your hand on the back of his head, running your fingers through the soft white strands and pulling him forward and pressing a kiss against his forehead.
“yes, i was. don’t be so reckless next time.”
when you pull away, his cheeks have turned a soft shade of red and his eyes have widened, practically bulging from their sockets. slowly, his jaw opens, mouth gaping as he starts to speak.
“you–”
“shut up.”
©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.
#aphmau#aphmau mcd#mcd x reader#aphmau minecraft diaries#minecraft diaries#mcd laurance#laurance x reader#laurance zvahl x reader#mcd laurance x reader#mcd garroth#garroth ro'meave#garroth x reader#garroth ro'meave x reader#minecraft diaries garroth#mcd garroth x reader#mcd gene#gene x reader#mcd gene x reader#mcd travis#travis valkrum#travis valkrum x reader
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Loud.
part one two three
“You’re impossible!”
Obi-Wan harrumphs back at Cody with feeling. The way they’re running it’s equally impossible to sign or code tap. He engages the lights on his gloves, squeezes his fingers in a rhythm and the code appears in short and long lines on the back of his hand. Which he gladly shows to Cody. “You’re one to talk.”
“Dogpiling Grievous was a calculated move,” Cody huffs back, skids to a halt at a maintenance door that Obi-Wan almost missed. While Cody types in the emergency sequence, he carefully gets his message ready.
“You’re bad at math,” Cody reads blandly when he turns around. “Very funny.”
“Careful,” he signs, fingers stiff and unwieldy as the nervousness crawls through him. Setting in his knees, making them weak. A clump in his stomach. Stiff, clumsy hands.
“You know you can change your mind any moment,” Cody says, catches his eyes and Obi-Wan sinks into the warmth. “We can stop whenever you need.”
“No.”
Cody waits for him to continue but he can’t even nod or move. The gap between their fingers feels insurmountable.
But he wants this. Needs this, on a level deeper than the trust he has in Cody.
“Shadows don’t trust easily,” he wants to say. “I do even less.” His trust is forged in pain and loss and bittersweet victories. And faith.
“I like hugging,” his fingers confess and he feels stupid for the brief moment until Cody’s face lights up.
The mask digs into his face where it’s smashed against Cody’s shoulder. Cody’s arms feel safe and unhesitating and so sure it unlocks Obi-Wan’s knees and stomach and fingers and he’s hugging back with eyes closed.
For the first time in a long, long while he wants his voice back. He doesn’t know what he’d say. And perhaps it doesn’t matter. Just the urge to pull off the mask and move his mouth—
soft lips press against his temple just over the edge of the mask, gentle fingers tap on his hand in code, “I hear you.”
You really do, don’t you, Obi-Wan thinks, watches his own hand tap in the same rushed rhythm. One short, one long, two short.
“I hear you,” Cody signs back, forehead against Obi-Wan’s brow.
Three long.
Obi-Wan never lost his voice.
Three short, one long.
Not with the people that matter.
One short.
“Me too,” Cody whispers. “Ready?”
The catches on the mask hiss as they open.
.
“You’re impossible!”
Obi-Wan harrumphs back at Cody with feeling. The way they’re running it’s equally impossible to sign or code tap. He engages the lights on his gloves, squeezes his fingers in a rhythm and the code appears in short and long lines on the back of his hand. Which he gladly shows to Cody. “You’re one to talk.”
“Dogpiling Grievous was a calculated move,” Cody huffs back, skids to a halt at a maintenance door that Obi-Wan almost missed. While Cody types in the emergency sequence, he carefully gets his message ready.
“You’re bad at math,” Cody reads blandly when he turns around. “Very funny.”
Obi-Wan squeezes out another message.
“It was also very hot,” Cody reads. And pauses.
Obi-Wan imagines the blush hidden by the helmet vividly and smiles.
He’s ushered with no further comment into the maintenance closet which bears entrance to some shortcuts across the Malvolence. He looks at Cody in question who shrugs.
“I briefly saw the holoprints in one of the war rooms.”
Yes. One of the many reasons this infatuation is turning into something warm and bright and unbearably sweet. Cody is making himself a place in Obi-Wan’s heart like he’s coming back home.
“We’re almost there, Sir,” Cody says suddenly, relief palpable in his voice. Master Windu must have finally reached him on comms. “Understood, Sir. No more shenanigans, Sir.”
Obi-Wan’s shoulders shake with laughter.
.
“The mask helps me breathe,” Obi-Wan explains, head held high under Cody’s gaze. Getting out of breath could possibly suffocate him. Too dry or humid air is painful. With the exact parameters of what his body is able to handle, the healers had settled on a mask to protect him when he runs too fast. “Or other strenuous activities,” he adds with a slight smirk.
Cody shakes his head at him with a fond smile that tingles in Obi-Wan’s chest pleasantly. His thumb caresses the web of scars going from Obi-Wan’s bottom lip. “Can you feel that?”
“A little bit.” Not much at all, when it comes down to it. Kissing has become unimportant to him out of necessity. Few people had wanted to kiss him in the first place when the scars had still looked fresh. He’s lucky his jaw hadn’t needed to be replaced, so he’s not complaining.
It had been difficult nonetheless. To work around the muteness, the way his body had been changed. He’s learned to put more importance into other gestures than kissing on the mouth.
Cody’s forehead rests against his once more, catching his hand and slowly stroking the palm, up to the fingertips. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Gestures like Cody’s.
.
“I didn’t expect to see you there,” Cody says as they settle into the rescue shuttle. “General Windu said we had reliable intel to do a hit and run on the Malvolence.”
Obi-Wan waves his hand, palm empty before a flick of his fingers reveals the data stick.
“Information retrieval,” Cody asks, voice changing from vocoder to his usual timbre as he lifts his helmet. “I imagine there was a lot of useful data to harvest.” The shuttle is rocked as the warship explodes. “I should’ve saved my sweets ration,” Cody murmurs, eyes reflecting fire and bone-deep satisfaction.
“You’re dying for a fabricated war,” Obi-Wan doesn’t sign. The intel he managed to get his hands on is enough to connect the missing senate funds with Serenno’s newly acquired wealth from another angle and make it waterproof.
Destabilizing a whole galaxy for— for shits and giggles. Obi-Wan sits on his hands, shuts himself up so he can think.
“The Dark Side has clouded their vision. Hundreds of senators are now under the influence of a Sith lord called Darth Sidious,” Dooku’s voice grates through his memory. Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to tell him just where he could store his lightsaber for safekeeping so his erstwhile grandmaster had taunted him with the truth, in hindsight.
Anakin.
The signs rush out of his hands, too fast for Cody at first. He repeats himself, trusts that Cody, brilliant, brilliantly fast Cody, will get it.
The helmet is back on Cody’s head, lights flickering on, antennas adjusting their angle.
“General Windu, this is Commander Cody using emergency frequency 2-Esk-5-0. Immediate contact with General Bilaba required. Immediate removal from battle of General Skywalker required. Use of force strongly encouraged should he resist.”
Obi-Wan crosses the small distance, waving his hands before using the quick battle sign for “deliver message”.
“General, Master Shadow Kenobi has a message,” Cody says, doesn’t pause as he translates to voice even though his back goes ramrod straight. “Chancellor is the Sith. I have proof. Ani must be kept away from him.”
.
“Some call them traitors,” Cody whispers, “but I’d rather turn a blind eye and let them run than watch them step into blaster fire because they don’t want to fight with every fiber of their being.”
“You’re a good man,” Obi-Wan signs, hands held up a bit so Cody can see. He hadn’t wanted to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes for the confession, had chosen to press him close under his chin instead. “You’re a good man,” Obi-Wan taps out on Cody’s chest so he can feel his words, too.
#loud au#codywan#obi wan kenobi#jedi shadow!obi wan#mute!obi wan#commander cody#star wars#sw tcw#my art#frostbitebakery art
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Hand Holding Headcanons
— Hazbin Cast Edition !
Including: Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Alastor, Sir Pentious, Husk, Vox
Warnings: Not proofread
Charlie Morningstar
Charlie’s hands are very soft, and her touch is very light, she doesn’t grasp your hand very roughly or anything.
She swings your hands together like a little excited child as you both walk together.
Loves your hands. Definitely plays with your fingers
Vaggie
A bit basic when it comes to holding hands with her, but still good nonetheless.
Fingers intertwined, she definitely rubs her thumb across your knuckles, and she also will look down at your hands and just blush — especially if the relationship is a newer one
Sometimes even if you guys aren’t holding hands and you’re doing something, she’ll just caress them as you do whatever it is your doing
Angel Dust
Despite all the hype about his spidery fluff, it’s actually quite itchy, so if you guys hold hands he will wear his gloves
Honestly, Angel, like Charlie, also has a very soft grip on your hands, half the time he’s not even holding your hand, it’s just yours on top of his, tbh I think he likes the feeling of being held by you more than anything
He’s a mix of Vaggie and Charlie, he does the thumb thing, but he also plays with your fingers, but it’s pretty mood based
Alastor
Honestly, isn’t one to hold hands, he’s more of the kinda guy to link arms, or even hold pinkies
He’ll let you hold his hand though, but he might not do much extra
I can see him doing the thumb this every once in awhile, but you’re more likely to play with his fingers or hands than he is
Sir Pentious
He loves holding your hand! Honestly, Pentious is a big physical affection guy, so whenever you initiate it he’s through the roofs and higher!
But… You both don’t hold hands very often. He’s a very cold animal, so he doesn’t hold your hand often in fear of taking away any of your body heat
When you guys do, he’s so happy! His cold, little claws will run down the back of your hand, and he’ll just look at like with all this love and adoration and ughh 😫😫
Husker
His fur on his hands can very easily warm you up quickly haha
Honestly, hand holding is one of the few forms of PDA he’s actually chill with, and honestly as simple as it is, he loves it — it’s so casual and so intimate and he’s a sucker for it
Not much to say other than he’s very careful (like Pentious) when it comes to claws
Vox
Vox holds your hand very loosely, he’s almost always texting someone about business offers, so his hand needs to be prepared to start texting someone, but he’ll always slide it back into yours once done
He also does the thumb thing, and if you play with his fingers he will start glitching, no discussion needed there XD
Honestly, Vox is a fair mix of everyone, but also has a little splash of well… him XD
#hazbin hotel#mio’s writing ! ☆#hazbin hotel x reader#charlie morningstar hazbin hotel#charlie morningstar x reader#hazbin hotel charlie morningstar#vaggie x reader#hazbin hotel vaggie#vaggie hazbin hotel#angel dust x reader#hazbin hotel angel dust#angel dust hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#sir pentious x reader#hazbin hotel sir pentious#sir pentious hazbin hotel#husk x reader#husk hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel husk#vox x reader#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel x you#x reader#fanfiction#x y/n#x you
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search and destroy
Francis Mosses x male reader smut
1.7k words
This is role reversal where the reader is a milkman and Francis is the doorman. I wouldn’t say this is as dark as the fic with him I just posted is, but it’s still pretty dark. Francis uses his position of power/authority to preform a cavity search on the reader.
“Come with me, sir,” the man says from behind the window before a metal shutter falls, making you jump at the suddenness.
A door near the window opens, giving you a full view of the man. He looks bored and tired all at once, which you can’t really blame him for. You got bored too, delivering bottles of milk all day. Speaking of, it made you roll your eyes to be interrupted from your job, you had work to do.
You follow the man to a door that matches the one you just walked through. Instead of the hallway like the previous door had opened to, this one instead opened to a medical examination room. Why the fuck was this back here, you wondered.
“Lean forward with your hands against the wall,” the man said. At your look of unease, he gestured to the empty counter, “you can set that down right there.”
“Is this necessary?” You asked as you set the carrier down. The bottles were already sweating with condensation. You didn’t have time for this.
“Yes sir. I am just trying to make sure I can properly verify you,” the man says. You feel the heat of his body behind yours first before his hands are on your body, patting you down.
You had never been pat down before, and sure as hell didn’t expect to be while on the clock. It felt invasive, while also oddly intimate at the same time.
“May I take this off?” He asks, his hands on the sides of your hat. After you give a stiff nod, he pulls the hat off with much more care than you expected of him. “I will also need you to take this off.”
You gasp when you fill his hands on your hips, “I don’t think that’s necessary,” you respond, swatting his hands away before you turn to lean on the wall. You wished it would somehow open and swallow you up and take you away from this weird fucking situation.
“Sir,” the man says, looking like he’s using everything he has to keep from rolling his tired eyes. “I’m just trying to do my job,” he says calmly. “It will only take a few moments.”
Your eyes nervously look away to keep from having to make eye contact. Francis his name tag reads. When you’ve mustered up the courage to look back into his eyes, the man still standing there patiently, you nod.
“Once you’ve taken your pants and underwear off, sir, bend over the front of the examination table.”
Your heart hammers in your chest as you slowly pull the bottom half of your clothing off, your shoes going first. You don’t make eye contact with the man again as you place your clothing into his open arms.
The only thing you can do is do what the man asks and lean over the bed, trying your best to not crinkle the loud paper. Your mouth stays shut, even after you hear what sounds like the man rifling through your pockets.
You jump when a gloved hand comes into contact with your hip. You’re too in your own head to even register the way that the man says your name like he’s trying to calm a spooked animal. “Relax,” Francis commands softly, “this will go much smoother if you’re relaxed.”
You are able to register when he speaks next, “good boy,” he says, hating how the praise makes you feel better, if only a little.
Once again, you jump when one of his gloved fingers circles your hole, “my apologies for the temperature,” Francis says. The finger pushes in slowly, and as it does, your teeth sink into your bottom lip to keep from letting out the noise that you already feel growing in your throat.
“You’d be surprised where people hide things to try and sneak them in,” Francis says, letting out a humorless chuckle.
“You’ve had to do this before?” You ask, finding your voice before he presses his finger into that spot of pleasure you’re afraid he’ll find. You already feel embarrassed enough, you didn’t want to add getting a boner to that.
“It’s what I’ve heard from others,” he says as his finger goes deeper, “I was told to use any means necessary to complete my job correctly.”
So he’s never done this before? You wanted to ask before your fear becomes a reality as his slick finger finds the bundle of nerves that has pleasure shooting straight for your soft cock. You didn’t know what Francis was thinking he would find, but it seemed he found what he was hoping to find.
Your forehead, slick with sweat from nervousness falls to the bed as you try and do whatever you can to stifle the sounds that fall from your lips. However, Francis makes them tough to hide as he focuses in on the spot.
“No need to feel embarrassed,” he says, “another thing that I’ve heard is feeling pleasure is not unheard of during a cavity search.” His finger presses into the spot before the pad rubs over it, again and again. “In fact, it’s quite normal.”
Before you can bite too hard into your lips and pierce the skin, you let up and let the moans fall free from your mouth.
“I assume it does feel good?” Francis asks, dragging his fingers of his other hand down your taint until he can run his gloved fingers down your half-hard cock, “if this is anything to go by.”
“Yes,” you whisper, lifting your head to rest it on your arm. You spread your legs further for the man, and the noise of approval he makes goes straight to your cock.
“May I add another?” Francis asks, pulling his finger free.
”Yes,” you repeat.
With two of his fingers pressing deep into your body, you’re much more vocal than when you just had the one. You whine against the burn from the stretch of his two fingers, a pain that Francis alleviates when his fingers find your prostate again.
“Better?” He asks, not sounding bored, much to your surprise. “Would you like more?”
”I don’t know,” you sob as his fingers alternate between pressing against your prostate, and spreading to scissor you open.
“C’mon,” Francis chuckles darkly, “I know you can take it.”
”Please,” you whine, your hard cock aches between your legs. You didn’t even know what you were begging for. Was it for Francis to make you cum and get rid of the ache? Was it for him to stop and let you walk out on shaky legs to finish the rest of your deliveries?
”Shh, I know exactly what you need.” He whispers into your ear after he’s leaned down. What comes after the sound of his voice is the sound of a zipper coming undone.
You go tense at the feel of the blunt head of Francis’ cock at your hole. The sound of the man slicking his cock up hits your ears before it abruptly ends and his hands are wrapping tightly around your hips. Just from the feel of the head, you didn’t think just two of his fingers would be enough, but you still waited with bated breath.
You both groaned when Francis pushed in, just as slow as he did with his first finger. He doesn’t stop until his hips come into contact with your ass and his cock has carved its place inside your body.
“You walk around in that uniform,” Francis breathes into your ear before he’s pulling his cock free until the wet, spongy head is kissing your hole, “how could I not bring you back here,” he says before thrusting back inside.
The pain of the stretch from his cock is nearly too much, but the pleasure that overtakes that feeling when his cock hits your prostate makes it all worth it. It only takes a few thrusts for the pain to be a thing of the past, the only thing you’re left to focus on is the pleasure the man behind you is giving to you.
Though, giving would probably be the wrong word. You think the word hammering would be the better word as the slap of skin-on-skin echoes throughout the space.
Francis’ balls plap against your ass as yours draw up tight as your edge approaches. The only warning you can give is a jumble of noises, but alongside those noises is the flutter of your hole around Francis’ cock, which you assume is enough to warn the man before you clamp down on his cock as your orgasm rushes through your body.
From behind you, Francis moans from the stimulation to his cock. One of his hands releases the tight grip on your hips to go down to your cock to tug at your cock to get more of your cum out.
You collapse down onto the examination table, the paper wrinkled below your body. Your hips came into contact with the mess you made from your cock, making you glad that you wouldn’t have to clean the room afterwards. It made you wonder who would, and if they would come in before or after the smell of sex was gone from the room.
The hard cock pounding in and out of your hole came to a halt moments after yours had gone soft. It gave a valiant twitch as the man behind you moaned, knowing that his cock was pumping you full. In fact, it didn’t take long after Francis pulled out for his seed to start leaking from your hole.
There’s no way you were going to be able to look at your uniform without thinking of what you’ve just done. Hell, you’re going to have to burn the one you currently have and then request another one, but even then, the sight of it will be a reminder.
You hear the sound of Francis’ zipper, and then the sound of his shoes on the floor. The sound gets closer minutes later before you feel a wet, warm cloth between your legs.
“Easy,” he murmurs at the soft sounds you let out when the cloth runs over your sensitive hole and soft cock, “I’ve got you,” he says, one of his hands going back to your hips to hold you in place as he wipes you clean.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” You ask as you raise yourself up after the man steps away again.
“Yes sir. Thank you for your cooperation, you may now get dressed.”
#x male reader#x male reader smut#milkman x male reader#milkman x male reader smut#francis mosses x male reader#francis mosses x male reader smut#francis mosses x reader#francis mosses
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svt being green flags early into dating
a/n: dating boys who aren’t seventeen? i don’t recommend KIDDING but it’s tough out here. ngl i wrote this in one dash bc i’ve had it with boys
- picture these hcs as the talking stage/unofficial dating era but you guys are interested in each other
seungcheol:
❥ saw a quote recently that described a man as “alpha male energy without being an incel” and i think this pertains to cheol too
❥ never let’s you pay, picks you up in his car for your dates so you don’t have to commute anywhere and to ensure you get home safe
jeonghan:
❥ teases you but never crosses a boundary
❥ makes clever jokes but they’re never the kind of “dark humor” that’s just disguised as something problematic
joshua:
❥ he’s a prince, a walking green flag even
❥ hence the princess treatment that you tend to get
❥ always offers his hand to you when you walk on anything that could be precarious
jun:
❥ he’s a little silly but he’s very aware of when is a good time
❥ knows exactly how to cheer you up depending on the situation
❥ maybe you get funny voice jun or an attentive jun gently holding your hand and asking what he could do to help
soonyoung:
❥ consistent energy towards you
❥ you see him bounding towards your date meeting spot with the biggest grin on his face - the same genuine grin as the one on your first date
wonwoo:
❥ the best listener and he’s good at following up with you so you know he cares
❥“oh yeah how did your test go? the one you kept staying up for”
❥“did you end up talking to your boss about your hours?”
❥“did you end up getting the tickets for the concert you wanted?”
jihoon:
❥ his schedule may be busy but he does try to make time for you and he communicates when he can’t
❥“i’m a little tight this week but i moved some things around so i’m free saturday night, do you want to get dinner?”
❥“our day off is coming up, are you also free that day? i was thinking spending a day at home together?”
❥ he’s a little extra sappy when he can’t free up time
❥“we’re doing our dome shows this week, i’m so sorry i can’t see you, darling”
seokmin:
❥ also has very good, enthusiastic, energy towards you
❥ loves to text you consistently without being overbearing either
❥ good mornings and good nights are precious to him
❥ tells you unsolicited updates about his day and hopes you’ll do the same
❥ i stubbed my toe - remember to be careful sometimes!
mingyu:
❥ what can i say- he never lets you do anything in the sense that he doesn’t ever want you to feel the need to lift a finger around him
❥ your steak? do you want him to cut it for you?
❥ you need to build your new bookshelf? no you don’t, he’ll do it
minghao:
❥ so casually a gentleman
❥ tends to guide you by the small of your back when you walk together (he’s also always walking on the side closest to the road)
❥ it’s kind of a nice little reminder he’s there
seungkwan:
❥ he always brings an extra something in case you need it on your dates
❥ if it’s chilly outside and you’re talking a stroll around the park, he’ll an extra pair of gloves for you or an extra scarf
❥ or if you’re doing an active date, like trying volleyball maybe, he’ll bring an extra pair of kneepads for you
vernon:
❥ maybe he’s not the best with words but he’ll always send you little recommendations
❥ whether it’s a movie, a song, or a video, it’s his way of telling you “this reminded me of you”
❥ even in most casual instances, he’s thinking about you
chan:
❥ always takes care of planning dates
❥ while of course he wouldn’t stop you from planning a date, he also really enjoys thinking of where to go and what to do so he can just show you a good time :)
#seventeen#svt#seventeen headcanons#svt hcs#scoups x you#jeonghan x you#joshua x you#jun x you#hoshi x you#wonwoo x you#woozi x you#dokyeom x you#mingyu x you#minghao x you#seungkwan x you#vernon x you#dino x you#scoups x reader#jeonghan x reader#joshua x reader#jun x reader#hoshi x reader#wonwoo x reader#woozi x reader#dokyeom x reader#mingyu x reader#minghao x reader#seungkwan x reader#vernon x reader#dink x reader
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Stitches, Films and Sponges Baths?
Cw: fluff, shy!team doctor!reader, Dick being a flirty shit
“Nightwing B-01, injured.” Calls the electronic voice through the comms and you get moving immediately.
“How bad is it?” You ask as you snap gloves on and reach for your kit.
“Bad enough that I’ll miss seeing your concentrated face, angel.” Dick flirts and you suck at your teeth.
The moment he comes into view, you realise that as much as he flirts he hadn’t been lying.
He’s cut under his eye, there’s another on his bicep and a tear in the side of his suit.
“Who did you lose a fight to?” That gets him to open his eyes and he spots a slight frown on your lips.
“I didn’t lose, I’m just a little more cut up than you’re used to seeing me.” You clean up his face first and your frown smooths out when you realise it's more blood than wound.
“This one isn’t too bad, maybe a butterfly stitch if you really want one. It should close within the day.”
Dick reaches for your gloved hand, “Put the stitch please, angel? Don’t want you having to stare at that cut every time you look at me;” he smiles and as if he’s reconsidered his statement he adds. “Unless it makes me look rugged and even hotter.”
Your body flushes, heat rushing through you and you nibble on your lip as you set the stitch on his cheekbone.
“You look fine, can you open your eyes now?”
He does, “Missed seeing them, did you?”
“Dick,” it’s only a warning, but he likes when you say his name so it’s one he elects to ignore- on the basis of the fact that if he does, you’re going to fluster even more. And he likes that even more.
“Your bicep isn’t too bad, just a scratch really. I’m more worried about your side, so I’m going to look at that first.”
His arms reach up for you to undress him and Dick bites his tongue to keep his smile at bay when your eyes widen and your fingers drag up his stomach as you lift off the top of his suit.
You wonder if he can tell that your pulse is rioting now?
He’s always been pretty, flirty and overly friendly to you and you’ve never known where to put all that.
Dick is gorgeous, he’s been gorgeous from the moment you’d been recruited here from the Bat, but he’s also never been by himself since you’ve been here- a little bit of a relationship man and while you’d love to pursue that, you don’t know if your poor heart will handle his flirty unleashed.
“It’s not so bad, just a little jagged so the stitching is going to hurt a bit. I’m sorry.”
Dick tuts, his heart clenching at how considerate you are- then he wonders if that’s just your bedside manner.
“No need for that, I can take a little pain.”
You nod, and get started with your needles and thread, closing up Dick’s wound with a steady hand.
“These are dissolvable, but they can still rip if you aren’t careful so you’re on bed rest until they dissolve.”
“How long will that take, angel? Trying to plan how many days I have with you.”
You clench your jaw to stop your smile, but Dick takes note of the way that your eyebrows jump and your eyes crinkle with little crow’s feet.
“A week or two for the most, but you can’t go around training like usual until they dissolve.”
He nods, “So what do you say to movie nights and reading challenges all week?”
You do let yourself smile then, Dick’s proposed things you like that he doesn’t necessarily find that mind blowing.
“And what will you do?” You ask, a vote of confidence to play along with his tease.
“Probably work on some tech stuff, but we’ll at least be together so you can have all the time in the world just staring at me till you’re ready to make a move.”
You grumble and scrub your face making Dick chuckle.
“That was mean, I’m sorry angel.” He coos and you look up to find him still smirking.
“Mhm, I totally believe you,” you finish his stitch and cover it with a piece of gauze and medical tape. “I don’t think I’ll be able to spend the entire week with you Grayson. I’ve got class.”
His eyebrows jump, “Class? Did you start a new programme?”
You nod, “Behavioral analysis.” Dick smiles, a little wicked at the confession. You move to his bicep, cleaning up the blood to find three claw-like marks tearing through his skin.
“Do you need real life case studies? I’ll be happy to help you out. You can analyse my behaviour when I’m with you.”
Your belly heats, and you’re sure the way you fluster is evident to Dick and that makes you feel even more bashful.
It’s clear he does feel a little bad about how flushed he’s making you when you feel his hand reach up to your cheek.
“I’ll stop for a little, angel. Don’t want you to pass out from all the heat you’re pushing out.”
“Dick!” You whine and he laughs, a full belly laugh that makes your frown turn to a small smile. “You’re the worst.”
You finish cleaning and dressing the scratches on his bicep, they only needed a few stitches on one of them.
“Oh am I?” He coos and you grumble, biting your lip to stop from swearing at him. “Okay okay, I’ll really stop now.” He promises; you look up at him through your lashes as you pull away from his hand and start cleaning up.
“Wanna watch a film with me?” He asks as you finish cleaning, his body suddenly tired now that he’s not worried about flirting and teasing you.
“One of your black and white French films?” It’s his turn to flush a little, clearly not expecting anyone to notice his choice in movies. “You always leave the disk in, and I don’t think anyone else is watching espionage French films except you.” You explain with a little smile.
“Maybe not a French one, we can do Russian or Spanish- I know you watch those.”
You shrug, “We can trade off, one French, one Spanish.”
Dick nods, groaning as he stands. His hand pressed tight to his side. “Why don’t you choose first, angel. Gonna get Alfred to sponge me off,” he pauses at the door, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he turns back to you. “Unless you want to do it, which I have zero objections to.”
“Go get your sponge bath Grayson, I’ll be in the media room.”
#dickgrayson#dick grayson#dick grayson one shot#dick grayson fanfiction#dick grayson fluff#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson drabble#dick grayson fic#dick grayson blurb#dick grayson x yn#dick grayson x shy!reader#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x black reader#dick grayson x gender neutral reader#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x female!reader#dick grayson x you
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Baby Formula
Dp x Dc Crossover
Duke was having a slow day when he heard the cry of outrage just across the street. He sees the store owner let go of the little kid he had latched onto and pull his hand close to his chest. The kid picked up the box he dropped and turned quickly to sprint away on tiny legs.
“He bit me!” The man screams as he stares angrily after the boy.
Instead of his training to intercept the thief and return the stolen merchandise, Duke follows his gut feeling and just tails the running boy.
From what he can see, the kid it young, maybe six he guessed (he’s not great with ages that young), with black hair and worn clothes. Homeless most likely, or a run away.
The boy slows down and hides in an alley to check to see if anyone is following. Duke takes this time to jump down in front of him.
Blue, blue eyes snap to him and widen in surprise.
“Hey, kid,” Duke greets casually, still crouched to get closer to his height.
The child shift from foot to foot, obviously debating with himself whether to run or not while eyeing him critically. Not easy to trust. Expected.
“Whatcha got there?”
Little hands grip the box of baby formula closer to his chest reflexively and then hides it behind his back. He shoves the water bottle fuller into the pocket of his too large hoodie.
“Nothin’.”
Duke hums.
“I don’t wanna get you in trouble,” he eases. “I just want to help.”
“I don’t need any help,” the boy denies immediately.
“You might not, but what about your baby sibling?”
The boy tenses and his eyes narrow dangerously. So Duke was right.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“Why should I tell you?” The boy fires back venomously.
Duke shrugs.
“That’s fair. I’m Signal by the way.” No response, not that he was expecting one. “I do need to know that you guys are staying somewhere safe. You’re a really good brother for looking after your baby…”
The boy frowns. “Sister.”
“Your baby sister and getting her formula, but I’m sure you’d also like to be playing instead of stealing. Am I close?”
“I can help take care of Ellie just fine,” the boy defends hotly.
‘Help’. He’s not the only one.
“You can, but you shouldn’t have to. You’re just a kid too. I wanna help make sure you guys are taken care of. Nothing bad will happen if you show me where you guys are staying,” Duke tried to argue calmly.
He hasn’t had much experience with this kind of situation but he needed to make sure they were in a safe place. Child trafficking had gone down after Red Hood made his displeasure known, but it wasn’t nonexistent.
The kid shifts again.
“They’ll split us up if they throw us in foster care. You can’t call CPS. Promise you won’t.”
He didn’t even hesitate.
“I promise I won’t call CPS.”
The boy thrusts his free hand forward with his pinky out.
“Pinky promise,” he insists.
Duke has to lock down the smile that threatens to creep up on him. Professional. He needed to stay professional.
He wraps his gloved pinky around the tiny finger in front of him and reiterates the promise. Greasy, black hair flops as the boy nods sharply in acceptance.
“Okay.”
Duke does smile a bit then. “Okay, lead the way.”
The kid hesitates for a second before shaking his head and huffing. He leads the vigilante through back alleys for quite awhile before they come up to the back of an abandoned building.
The kid turns back to him with his hand on the edge of a piece of plywood blocking the entrance.
Duke couldn’t tell exactly what the boy was thinking, but he knew he was second guessing. However, with the bright glow this kid was giving off that make Duke think he was a meta of some sort, he couldn’t let him walk away.
The boy continues on like he didn’t even pause, pushing the board aside and slipping through the small crack. Duke follows closely behind as they travel through the place that looks like it used to be a restaurant that had burned down. They walk until they make it to the only room with light, a storage room, and find a red headed girl, older than the boy but still young, holding a baby as she boils something on an old burner.
She looks up and freezes when she sees him.
“Don’t freak out,” the boy interrupts.
“Danny,” she says slowly, her teal eyes zeroing in on her little brother. “Why did you bring one of them here?”
‘Danny’ pulls the water and formula forward sheepishly. Her eyes widen.
“Danny,” she says with disapproval.
“Ellie only has one pack left, Jazz, I had to do something.”
“You didn’t have to steal,” Jazz hisses. “Dan will be back with-“
“Yea, well, he forgot last time, so what were we gonna do then, huh?”
Four names. Four kids living in a burned to hell building that he’s surprised is still standing.
The two kids stare each other down until baby Ellie starts squirming and fussing, reaching for Danny. The boy huffs and takes the baby, looking almost comical with how small they both were.
“I wanted to make sure everyone was okay,” Duke said to alleviate the tension in the too small room. “I just want to help.”
“That’s what people say before they call CPS on us and we have to run again,” she glares harshly, standing from the floor. She didn’t even reach his shoulders.
“And I promised I wouldn’t.”
“He pinky promised,” Danny adds in a hushed tone.
Studying the other kids in the room, Duke can see that Ellie was as bright as Danny, just a different color, and Jazz only had a slight glow.
“How old is Dan?” He asks.
Jazz puckers her lips like she sucked on a lemon.
“Old enough,” is her answer.
“Nobody is in trouble,” he reassures.
Neither of the siblings answer for a minute, Danny nervously looking between the vigilante and his sister, and Jazz staring Duke down with narrowed eyes.
“He’s sixteen,” Danny confesses.
Jazz shoots him a scalding look, to which the boy shrugs off with no guilt, but doesn’t deny it.
The oldest isn’t old enough, which was what he was thinking, but it still put him in a weird position. Should he call Bruce? He should definitely call Bruce.
Jason would be so much better at this than Duke. The Alley kids love and trust Red Hood, but this technically wasn’t Crime Alley.
“I want to help,” he says.
Jazz folds her arms over her chest and he doesn’t blame her for her suspicion.
“How?”
Yea, he’s working on that.
“Who the f*ck are you?”
The snarl comes from behind him and he whirls around to see a teen that greatly resembles the boy. This must be Dan, but holy macaroni, he didn’t even hear him come in.
“That’s Signal,” Danny says, passing Ellie back to Jazz who takes her and steps back from the angry teen.
“Yea, I can see that. Why is he here?” Dan growls.
Danny squares his shoulders and lifts his chin.
“I brought him.”
Dan snaps his glare from Duke to the little boy.
“You WHAT?” The shout sounds too large in the small room and Ellie immediately starts crying. “What the hell are you tryin’ to do, you little sh*t?”
“Hey,” Duke says firmly, trying to redirect the anger to himself. “I would have followed him anyway, it’s not his fault.”
It doesn’t work because as soon as the words leave his mouth, he’s rounding on Danny again.
“I told you to stay here,” he points at the small boy who looks equally scared and defiant. “What were you doing out there, idiot?”
“You didn’t get formula last time,” Danny emphasizes the ‘you’ heavily. “So I went out and got some. You’re welcome.”
“You little-“
Duke intercepts the bulky teen when he lunges at Danny trying to grab the front of his shirt. From the way Danny backs up quickly, it’s not the first time.
“Knock it off,” Duke growls at the teen. “He’s a kid.”
“He’s a snot-nosed little brat,” Dan snarls at his brother and then turns his ire onto Duke, pushing the vigilante away with a giant shove. “And I’m guessing you’re gonna turn us over to those corrupt social workers, huh? Well good luck.”
“No,” Duke denies with his hands up. “I don’t want to do that. I promised I wouldn’t.”
“He pinky promised,” Danny insists behind Dan after the teen shifted to stand in front of his siblings.
“Shut up, twerp,” Dan snaps but doesn’t take his eyes off Duke. “Then what do you want, vigilante?”
This situation has escalated.
He lowers his hands to his sides to level with the guy.
“I just want to help,” he states for the umpteenth time calmly.
“Yea? And how you plan to do that?”
Dan has been burned before, Duke could tell. His distrust is valid with what he’s probably experienced in the past, and Duke doesn’t really know how to make the brightly glowing teen calm down and not snap his teeth (fangs? Were those fangs?) at any hand trying to reach out.
“I know a guy,” Duke blurts out. Geez, where was Babs when he needed backup?
“You know a guy,” Dan repeats with healthy doubt.
“He can find you a place to live. A place that isn’t a burnt down pizzeria.”
“You mean a foster home,” Dan glares.
Duke couldn’t really deny that.
“How about I talk to him and maybe we can set up a trial period? How does that sound? He’s got plenty of money and extra rooms to spare. Good food too,” Duke compromises. He hopes it’s enough to sweeten the deal and not set off red flags.
“We have a history with millionaires,” Jazz says with a cautious edge. From the dark look on the boys’ faces he can read it’s not a good kind of history.
“Technically he’s a billionaire,” he couldn’t help but say, “but he’s a good guy. I promise.”
“You’re talking about Bruce Wayne,” the red-head states in realization.
Duke thinks to himself that she would get along great with Barbara and not just because of their similar hair color.
“All I’m asking is that you trust me a little and give him a chance. If it doesn’t work out, he’s found homes for other kids before. He’ll make sure you guys stick together. I know how bad the system is, I get it, just… let me help. Please.”
The others look to Dan, the eldest, to make the decision. He glares hard at Duke, and if he hadn’t stared down actual super villains before, the vigilante might actually be scared.
After several long moments, Jazz speaks up in a hushed tone.
“I think we should try.”
Dan raises his lips in a silent snarl, clearly not liking her opinion, but not outright rejecting it. Danny huddles close to Jazz, gripping her shirt tightly, but looking between Dan’s broad back and Duke only a few feet away hopefully.
“One month,” Dan growls lowly and Duke has to keep the sigh of relief from escaping. “We’ll do this trial period for a month and that’s it. If we want to leave, then we leave and nobody calls the police on us. Got it, Yellowjacket?”
“Got it. I’ll talk to him. Just don’t leave, okay? I’ll come back tomorrow.”
Dan huffs and his eyes shift to the door in silent demand to get the hell out. Duke slowly makes his way over.
“Just don’t take it out on the kid. He was just trying to help,” Duke adds, trying to lessen whatever punishment Dan was going to give Danny after he left.
Dan snarls with, yes those were fangs, “Don’t tell me how to raise my brother.”
Duke lifts his hands to back off and then promptly leaves.
He grapples to the nearest roof and immediately calls Bruce.
“Hey, yea, I’ve got four kids you’re about to take in. You’ve agreed to a month trial because the oldest doesn’t trust the system and they all don’t have a good history with rich people. I’ll have Alfred get their rooms set up, but this is me letting you know. Oh, and one’s a baby so you’ll be paying for all the stuff that comes with that. They’ll be at the manor tomorrow so try to show up. Good talk.”
He left the voicemail as the only method of communication like a true Bat. Next was to actually tell Alfred and hope he doesn’t get the disappointed look, though he doubts he’ll get in trouble for helping out some homeless kids. The biggest obstacle will be Damian, but as long as there is some sort of buffer (i.e. Dick or Duke) it should be fine. Probably.
#dp x dc#dc x dp#dp x dc crossover#danny phantom#danny fenton#batman#elle phantom#dan phantom#jazz fenton#de aging#duke thomas#the signal#homeless#runaway#probably in a different dimension#they figure out their identities within the first week#no takes backs#they end up getting adopted#story ideas#bruce wayne#alfred pennyworth
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