#far away from anything that can hurt them but the lingering thought is always there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eupheme · 5 months

Text

— clean slate [into the fire, part v]

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, sex for favors, sub/dom elements, canon-typical descriptive violence and death, references to blood/gore, anti-ghoul sentiments, physical violence against reader, hurt/comfort, kissing

a/n: please mind the tags! this chapter got twice as long as the others (maybe I didn't want it to end, haha!) and there was a good break, so to keep things consistent, I am splitting it in half! both are being posted today though, so you don't have to wait 💖

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game. But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

(or - they took something from the Ghoul, and he’s here to collect)

The afternoon edges into night, and he tells himself each hour is the last one he'll think about you.

The Ghoul had waited for you to look back. Stock-still in the swirling dust that bit at his skin. A white-knuckled grip around the thick coil of rope.

You hadn’t.

His hand still reaches to scrubs at his neck, his jaw. To wipe you away or rub you in, he’s not sure.

It doesn't fucking matter.

He's stuck around a long time. Enough to see generations of families grow old and then die. The last few weeks are no more than a blip, in his far too-long life.

Hell - he's spent more time underground, than with you.

But something prickles at him. Lingering like a bad trip, leaving his teeth clenching and jaw aching as he finishes out the bounty.

It's messy.

It shouldn't have been. Should have been easy - but he's aching for a fight, something to take his mind off things. He's antagonistic.

Could've finished everything up from afar, but he ends up in close range. Another scar marring his chest, new splatters streaked across his dark coat.

It aches, a deep bruise as it heals.

Still only slightly dulling the itch of irritation.

I haven't lied about anything.

Didn’t last night mean anything to you?

It's sometime the next morning, after a night of a starless sky closing in around him, that he gives in.

Heading the way you went without thought, and when he does notice, he tells himself it's only because he needs more chems. That it’d be a shame to lose a supplier as good as you.

That it's easier, for both of you to stick together.

Maybe that's why he was careless. Knowing deep down, it would be easier to find a corpse later than to haul around a bounty, kicking and screaming.

The small sliver left of another man, from another life, knows he was cruel. That anger had turned him into a viper. Had always been good at striking first. Self-preservation beaten into him after two-hundred years - an old, festering wound.

He doesn’t know how to apologize anymore, but he can already think of a few ways to distract you.

Maybe you’ll forget completely, if he's thorough.

The Ghoul is faster than you are. Needs less rest, less food. Has already plotted just how far you can get in a day. Your footprints faded as packed earth leads to woods, but you’re not the type to wander, and there's only a few settlements in the miles ahead.

Halfway to his destination, when his eyes snag on a patch of rocks. A broken bits of branches on the trees just before it. There's something smeared across the stone - tasting like iron, when the tip of a finger brings it to his tongue.

Something ancient twists in his stomach, awakening from a slumber.

Backing up, he's able to piece together the struggle. Seeing the flattened grass, the heavy boot prints, melding with the smaller ones.

Finding a body, fallen off to the side - angling off the rock with the stain. Something familiar about the look of him.

A boot sinks into their side, rolling them over. A curl of a lip - he recognizes them. One of the two bounty hunters they’d fun into.

He had hated their eyes on you when they blew through that town.

Something had prickled at him then, but he had ignored it. A grit of his jaw - should’ve dealt with both of them.

There’s a hole in their head - red spilling down their neck, still tacky to the touch. A clean, close shot. His finger sinks in the wound, the same size as your 10mm.

"Good girl." The Ghoul murmurs.

The slightest ease of the knot in his chest.

A crunch of glass beneath his feet, the glint of the sun catching the needle. Another shape he knows well - a syringe. Probably a tranquilizer.

Three meeting one, with three leaving. The dead weight of you weighing down their steps, the footprints pressing heavily into the earth.

Easy enough for him to follow, as he slings his gun free.

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game.

But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

Despite being back among faces you knew, fear had been your only companion since the meeting in the forest.

Hazy memories flicker through your mind. Being dragged, snippets of light and the heat of a fire. The bright sear of dawn, and the dry embrace of the desert again.

Waking to the feeling of your arms being wrenched above your head. Coming to, hissing and spitting. Nails catching the face of one of them - Baine, you think - his fist cracking down hard against your cheek in retaliation.

Leaving you dazed, as your wrists were caught again - bound in place. A cruel curl of a lip, as they examined you like a brahmin.

“You look like a Wastelander”. It’s spit out, a wet mark against the floor, “We’ll get you back where you belong soon enough.”

You’re not sure how much time has passed. A day, maybe. Hunger gnaws at you - only a small sliver of comfort in the dried meat and fruit tossed your way.

Axton, the head of the Reclaimers - those who were tasked with bringing people back - had grown up with you. At one time, was perhaps even more than that. A distant relation of the current Overseers, his blood too thinned out to be of use - but even he won’t look you in the eye.

You both know how this will go, when you get back home.

Hope drains from you, with each hour. Eating away at the little flicker of hope in your chest, wrapped tightly around your heart.

Maybe he’d show.

But despair clouded your thoughts, soon after.

“You get hurt doing some stupid shit, and I’m leavin’ you behind.”

“You're a goddamn fool if you think I hadn’t been planning on turnin' you in the first chance I get."

Maybe he’d been truthful all along, and you hadn’t listened. Read into all those small moments, weaving them together until they had made something tangible.

The looks, stolen breaths and almost-careful touches. All fleeting, but you had caught them. Holding them close to your heart.

But life isn’t like the holotapes you grew up, back when everything felt safe.

There aren’t cowboys anymore. No heroes on horses - with their silver spurs and a shining, golden badge.

No one was coming for you.

The footprints die out, as the bleached trees grow thin.

Tall grass to packed dirt, dried by the sun. Rolling hills and then mountains, scraping against the horizon. The dipping sun casts him in a red light that bleeds to black at his ankles, his shadow stretching back long and lean behind him.

But these roads aren't wholly unknown to him.

Spent time blowing through Junktown and The Hub, a couple dozen miles away. The memory hazy, but there weren't too many places folk could stay, once the sun went down and everything wild and unruly came crawling out.

A feeling in his gut has him stopping two miles down the road. A half-dug quarry, long abandoned even before the world went to hell. Threadbare railings and platforms held together with spit and a prayer, framing the rusted building that cuts into the stone walls.

The tip of his boot taps a loose rock, sending it off the edge. Head cocked as he thinks, until he hears the faintest clatter a hundred feet below.

Two-hundred years ago, he had stood on a ledge much like this. Valley of the Gun. The final shootout had his guns lost in the dust. Fist-fighting with the leader of the gang, until they both near tumbled off the edge together.

Honorable, in the way he had caught the man's hand. Tried to haul him up, but had to let go when a knife was pulled - keeping him the hero. A satisfying death that wasn't his fault, a way to keep his conscience.

All movie tricks. Angles and the implication of falling, as the camera focused on his face that swam with regret.

Comin' after a girl then, too.

Thinks that's why the old memory has loosened in his mind.

Funny how things can change, but the bones remain. How he's still drawn back to life he's left far behind. Even if his conscience was buried, a long time ago.

Some things linger. He could go down. Take one of those ladders, work his way through the tunnels that are sure to wind through the limestone, and up through the back.

But he's never much liked being underground.

Another second of considering, before he's heading for the front door.

He used to like a script, but that was back in the day when the worst thing that could happen was a box-office bomb, not the hell he's been dragged through.

A half-cocked plan already forming. Twisting that connection between them, his own abandoned contract. Get him through the front door and to the man in charge at least, and that might be all he needs. Let years of instinct take over, after that.

Had already gotten a good look at a couple of them, when he first picked up the bounty. It had made him curious - why there was so much fuss, over so small a thing. Easy caps, he decided, when he had gotten a look at you.

Picking up that their brutality had been learned from sharpening their teeth against a silver spoon. Hardy - compared to some Wastelanders - with their filling meals and their pristine weapons.

But they sure as hell don't have the same grit as one.

Not much of anything, really, when compared to him.

The door opens with the push of his shoulder. Hand beneath the swirl of his coat, finger already fixed on the trigger. Not far in until he’s running into one of them - another Vaultie.

The man startles, wide-eyed when he sees him. Green, in his shades of blue and yellow.

“Here ‘bout a job.” The Ghoul keeps his voice light, in spite of everything.

Knows they’re keeping you alive for someone else, as much as that makes his jaw clench. No need to go rushing in just yet.

A flicker of recognition, as the man frowns, “How’d you find us?”

His head tilts, that smooth drawl slipping in, “Wouldn’t be much of a Bounty Hunter if I couldn’t, now, would I?”

The Vault Dweller’s eyes are fixed on his face, that familiar look of fear and disgust - dipping down to the pocket of his nose, the curling smile of yellowed teeth.

It’s strange how foreign it feels, after the hours spent with you looking at him so differently.

Maybe he’d been a fool, after all.

Maybe it’s more than your tight cunt that he wants to bury himself in, to claim. Something soft, bitten back behind his teeth. Something he doesn’t even know if he has a name for, anymore.

Something he didn’t know he needed , until he had chased both it and you away.

“We’ve already got her.” The man manages, after thinking it over, “Don’t think we need your services anymore.”

There’s another flash of teeth at the confirmation.

“Agreement was to find her. And who do you think rustled her up?” His brow lifts, “Would’ve been half-way to New Reno by now, if I hadn’t herded her your way.”

That sharp edge creeping in, “Think my time’s worth a little somethin ’. Don’t you?”

It’s easy for the guard to leave that decision to someone else. Standing aside, to let him pass.

“Thank you kindly.” The Ghoul tips his hat, a swirl of his coat as he passes.

Taking just enough steps past them, waiting until the man’s back turns. Spinning on his heel, after.

The knife glints between his fingers as he twirls it. A hand pressing over the Vault Dweller’s mouth, before the blade sinks into their neck.

Muffling the dying gurgle. A grunt as the Ghoul yanks the blade free - leaving the body crumpled in the shadows, as he winds deeper.

One down.

Hold on, he thinks.

I’m coming.

His whistle echoes in the chamber.

Half old-world - a long-forgotten leitmotif that fuses with new notes of his own. A part to play until he doesn't, letting the Ghoul guide him.

Down the half-lit hallway, the lights flickering overhead from the ancient generator. Everything picked clean like he figured it would be - every last piece of scrap ferreted away, leaving only dusty crates behind.

Still playing the part, as the low murmur of voices grows louder. Ears pricking up, listening for hers. Picking out at least three or four others from the layered hum.

A sneer, at the number. He’s faced worse odds. It’s in his favor really - take out as many fuckers as he can. Send bits and pieces of them back.

His intentions masked, an old habit, by the time he enters the warehouse. A wide steel grate floor, opening up to a second level below, scattered with old machinery.

There’s a table. Cards littering the top - a luxury brought from the Vault, as they bet using caps. Couple Vault Dwellers and that Wasteland son of a bitch from the town. Four total, one lounging on a sleeping pack as if it’s just another night, and they weren’t bringing you to your death.

It rankles him, teeth set on edge.

A scrape of chair legs on the floor, at the drawling condescension of his voice.

“Ain’t y’all a little old for a sleepover?”

Hands rest on holsters, but they don’t draw. The Ghoul focuses on one - a face he recognizes, the one who had sought him out.

The man’s legs spread, as if he’s got something worthwhile between them. The leader of this whole operation. Axton , or some shit like that - it hadn’t been worth his time to remember.

“Believe you fellas got somethin’ of mine.” The Ghoul drawls, “I’m here to collect.”

There’s a pause at that.

One of them, a right-hand man by the look of their padded leather armor - not a scratch on it - scowls. A face that tells another story. Pink marks start at their cheek, jagged lines that end at a thick neck.

His eyes narrow at that, lip curling. A flicker of unease in his belly - fingers clenching where they rest against his hips, close enough to draw.

“You’re too late for payment, ghoul. Heard you were dragging your feet.” His head tilts, towards the Wastelander who had gone still, “We went and got her ourselves.”

The Ghoul grins - a fierce thing, with a flash of teeth. A lilt, in his voice.

“Now, what makes you think I’m here for caps?”

It gives them pause. His question - the prospect of a ghoul showing up, unannounced.

“What else you here for?” Another grunts - eyes already back on his cards, a comfort in their numbers.

“Think you know.”

“The girl?” Atmos laughs, and the sound is cruel, “Heard she split from you. Caught her after.”

A tilt of his head towards the armored man and the Wastelander. Taunting then, “Must not be that good, if you let her slip away. What, she get tired of looking at your ugly mug?”

If they only knew the kind of things he’d done to you. What you had done to him, right back.

The Ghoul is only half-paying attention. Sticks and stones, all their insults falling on deaf ears. Too busy with eyes that flick over the top floor. Then down to the ground below.

Something flipping inside his guts, when he sees it. Cast in shadow near the base of the stairs, but his eyesight is keener than it’s ever been.

Arms bound, the knot looped around the hook of an overturned crane. A raw, split mark - swollen and bruised flesh - on the curve of a smooth cheek. Just above where your teeth cut into a piece of cloth, tied tightly around to gag you.

A tilt of your head, and then your eyes are meeting his. Round and blank with fear. Widening, when you see him.

His girl.

Muscles string tight, eyes narrowed as his teeth clench. You’d paid for what you did, and he’d be there to return the favor.

His gaze snaps back, and focuses. Whatever plan he had been working up burns, turning to ash.

“Always heard that beauty was in the eye of the beholder.” The Ghoul’s tone is conversational - although his blood boils, scalding hot, “But if you wanna see an ugly fucker , well… you best look right there.”

There’s a nod of his head, towards the man in charge. As if on cue, their heads twist to look - just as he draws, and then fires.

The Vault Dweller’s head caves in. Gore splattering against the blue of his suit. Barely a breath before his finger is tugging again, a bullet going through the chest of a second.

Always too goddamn slow.

Hesitant to take a life, even with their bravado.

Something that molted from his skin with the rest of him, over a century ago. He’s already reaching for the gun holstered at his shoulder before return shots are fired.

He can feel the flicker of something miss him, before he’s charging. Ducking under the swing of a knife, the muzzle pressed against ribs.

A hoarse shout that is drawn out by the ringing blast. The knife caught and sent spinning into the back of the Wastelander, heading towards the door.

Flinching, as something slams into his shoulder, just shy of his collarbone, and out the other side. The turn of a head - an eye fixed on the last man standing.

Padded armor won’t do much to stop him.

“That your handiwork?” The Ghoul growls, as his head tips towards you.

The man's finger twitches but he’s faster - a shot going into the meat of their thigh. Downing them as they scream, as the Ghoul saunters over to tug the hilt from where he’s buried it in the Wastlander’s back.

It glints a gleaming red in the light, as he adjusts his grip. Eyeing the scripted tattoos that cross over the man’s knuckles - as they grip at their thigh, near-tenderized from the blast.

Ones that had struck you. Could send them back, spelling out something obscene. A rough laugh at the thought.

He’s got someone waiting for him. But, he knows from experience…

That this won’t take too long.

In the hours since you parted, it’s only now that you can breathe.

For a long moment, you hadn’t dared believe. Eyes drawn to the noise above - the loud pitch of voices.

One of them - rough and low - draws your attention. Everything dark from your angle, an ache as you had tried to see.

Knowing that shadow. The brim of his hat.

The burn of his eyes, when they fixed on you. You could feel the fury in them, even from here. A muted sound of desperation from behind your gag, as you watched.

The Ghoul shoots first - the second his eyes pull away, and it’s all over in a matter of moments.

Your eyes closing at the sound of gunfire, of screaming - until it finally cuts short. Leaving the warehouse eerily silent, except for the clicking of spurs against metal.

He crouches in front of you, now - and you can’t help the whine. So much trapped behind the thick binding of cloth. All you could do is tug at your bound wrists - neck craning as you tried to watch from below.

A force of nature. Bared teeth a quick draw. Again you’re forced to admit to yourself how lucky you were to still be standing, after your first meeting.

He had blown through them like it was nothing.

“Hold on a minute, honey.” That low tone is familiar, calming you as his fingers hook around the cloth. Leaving a smear of red against your jaw as he tugs the gag free - shucking his gloves after.

“Are you hurt?” It comes out ragged. Tongue heavy in your mouth, throat dry. Eyes scanning the dark leather of his coat - all that red , smeared across it, “Thought you got hit.”

He barks out a laugh, your chin trapped between thumb and forefinger, “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Something dark swirling across his features, as he tilts your head towards the light. His thumb pressing at the edge of your bruise, denting skin.

“They got you good, didn’t they?” He murmurs, and you smile through a wince, at the dull ache of pain.

“You got them.”

“Sure did,” It’s distracted, as he cuts at the binds, next. The rope fraying and then splitting, an ache in your shoulders when your arms finally lower.

“Fuckin’ amateurs.” He mutters again, watching as you wince at the rubbed-raw skin at your wrists. The corners of his lips tipped down, lost in thought.

“Thought you would’ve liked seeing me all tied up.” It’s a weak thing. An attempt at humor, the ache in your heart at seeing him cut by the acidity of your last meeting.

He blinks. Comes back to himself, a hoarse hum of amusement.

“Only when I’m doing it, sweetheart.” The Ghoul’s eyes meet yours then, a hint of a smirk with the tilt of his head.

“Can think of a much better way of gagging you, too.”

There’s almost a softness to his tone. Just barely there, tinting the rough edges. Something like hope flutters - delicate, behind your ribs.

“You… you came, for me.” You need the clarification. To hear him say it. That this isn’t some ruse, a way to take you directly to the source, “You’re not-”

There’s a sigh, as he fixes you with a long look. His head tipping towards the platform above, a lazy flick of his finger towards an arm that dangles from the ledge.

“Well that there man’s the one I got your contract from,” The Ghoul drawls, “Said I was to return what belonged to somebody else.”

Those eyes fixing on you again, “Seein’ as you’re not , and seein’ as that man is now indisposed…”

His words trail off - and you can’t help the small smile, as he finishes.

“I’m thinkin we’re square.”

The look you give him is soft. Admiring. You don’t know how he tracked you down, but he did.

“You saved me.” It’s hushed, and at your tone his eyes pull from you.

Fixing somewhere low, off to the side, as he crouches. Uncomfortable with the way you look at him. How you see him. Not used to it, not after so many years.

You’re not able to resist.

Muscles stringing stiff when you lean forward. Lips pressed against the leather of his cheek, fingers ghosting against his jaw.

A huff then, teeth biting into his tongue with the shake of a head. His eyes dark, as you pull back, hovering.

“Darlin’ if you’re going to be stealin’ a kiss, you best be doin’ it properly.” The Ghoul rasps, eyes flicking down to your mouth.

His head tips towards yours, but it’s your that meets his first. A little sound in your throat as your lips slot against his. Warm and insistent as his knees drop to press into the cement floor.

Tugging at you, as your fingers grasp at his collar. A hungry lick of his tongue against the seam of your lips as you whine, crushing your chest to his.

His fingers at your neck, your jaw. Angling your head, a rough groan as you part for him. Turning ravenous - wandering hands as your tongue slips against his. Panting breaths and a grinding of hips when he yanks you closer.

“How many were there?” He hums, as you try to sneak a ragged breath.

The curve of a smile when you try to ignore him, a click of his tongue.

“I dunno,” Your mind is too foggy. Too focused on the hands that trace against your waist, “Four? No… maybe five?”

“You don’t seem too sure, sweetheart.” He does smile then, at the little mark between your eyebrows. Untangling himself - a hand reaching down to adjust himself, as he stands.

“As much as I’d like to take you right here,” He husks, eyes dragging over you, “The last thing I need is a bullet in the ass.”

A tilt of his head, towards the open floor.

“Come on, cowpoke. Let’s do a sweep.”

the last (final, for real this time) part will be up in just a little bit! 💖 thank you so much for reading - this series has become so much to me, and every ask or comment or tag or reblog has absolutely meant the world 💕

#please mind the tags!#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout smut #fallout tv series #fallout #cooper howard

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chiyuuchu · 2 months

Note

i loved so close yet so far a lot 🥰🥰 it was so cute, would you consider writing a part 2?

II. so close yet so far <3 (9th August 2024)

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Prompt! Everyone can see it but them.

first part here!

You and Katsuki had always been close—closer than most. From the outside, your bond was something everyone admired, even envied. But as time went on, something began to shift between you two.

You started noticing the small things more—how his hand lingered a little longer on yours, how his gaze softened when he thought you weren’t looking, and how your heart raced whenever he was near. But no matter how much you tried to push these feelings down, they only seemed to grow stronger.

Katsuki noticed it too. He’d never been one to shy away from his emotions, but when it came to you, it was different. You were his best friend, the one constant in his life, and the idea of messing that up terrified him. So, he kept his feelings buried, pretending that everything was normal even when it was anything but.

It wasn’t long before your friends started to notice. Kirishima, Mina, Sero, and Kaminari would give you knowing looks whenever Katsuki did something sweet for you—something that was becoming more and more frequent. You’d hear them whispering when they thought you weren’t listening, talking about how “the whole world can see it” except for the two of you.

“Seriously, Y/N,” Mina said one day during lunch, leaning across the table with a smirk.

“You and Katsuki are like, the most obvious couple ever. Just admit it already.”

You laughed it off, trying to hide how her words made your heart race. “We’re just friends, Mina.”

Mina rolled her eyes. “Sure, and I’m a pro hero already. Come on, Y/N, it’s so obvious you’re both into each other. What’s stopping you?”

You hesitated, glancing over at Katsuki, who was sitting a few tables away with Kirishima. “What if I’m wrong? What if he doesn’t feel the same way and I ruin everything?”

Mina’s expression softened. “I get it, but you have to ask yourself if staying in this weird limbo is really better than taking a chance.

The way you two are going, it’s only a matter of time before one of you slips up.”

Across the cafeteria, Katsuki was having a similar conversation with Kirishima.

“Come on, man, it’s obvious how you feel about her,” Kirishima said, nudging Katsuki’s shoulder. “Why not just tell her?”

Katsuki scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what if she doesn’t feel the same way? What then, huh? You expect me to just act like everything’s fine after that?”

Kirishima sighed, shaking his head.

“You’re both so stubborn. But, Katsuki, you can’t keep pretending forever. Eventually, it’s gonna hurt more to keep it in than to just say it.”

For the next few days, you and Katsuki danced around each other, both too afraid to make the first move. Your friends watched in exasperation as you continued to deny what was so obvious to everyone else.

It all came to a head one evening when you found yourself alone with Katsuki in his room, studying for an upcoming exam. The tension in the air was palpable, and every time your hands brushed or your eyes met, it felt like the world was holding its breath.

“Katsuki…” you started, breaking the silence. “Do you ever feel like… there’s something we’re not saying?”

Katsuki froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew exactly what you were implying.

“I..umm..” He started. And before he could open his mouth once more Kaminari and Sero barges in the room. “Guys! You have to see this! We just found out that— oh.. are we interrupting something.” Kaminari trails off.

The days continued in their hesitant rhythm. Katsuki and you maintained your usual routine—training together, hanging out, sharing late-night talks—but with a layer of unspoken tension simmering beneath the surface.

One evening, after a particularly intense training session, you both found yourselves alone in the common room. Katsuki sat on the couch, his usual scowl softened as he watched you. You were curled up in a chair, trying to read a book but clearly distracted.

Katsuki’s mind raced as he watched you, the same thoughts swirling around: how close you were, how comfortable and yet distant you both felt. He knew his friends were right. They could see it, but he was too afraid to act on it. His internal battle raged until he couldn’t take it any longer.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” he finally asked, breaking the silence.

You looked up, startled by the question. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to figure something out,” he said gruffly, though his tone lacked its usual harshness.

You hesitated, then sighed. “Maybe because I am trying to figure something out.”

Katsuki’s heart skipped a beat, but he quickly masked his surprise with a snort. “Hmph. What’s there to figure out? It’s not like anything’s changed.”

“That’s the problem,” you said quietly. “Things have changed. I feel like… like something’s different, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Katsuki’s chest tightened. He knew what was different but couldn’t bring himself to say it. Instead, he tried to play it off. “Maybe you’re just imagining things. You’re always overthinking.”

“Maybe,” you said, looking away. “Or maybe it’s just hard to ignore what’s right in front of me.”

Katsuki’s heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to tell you so badly, but the fear of ruining everything kept him silent. He stood abruptly, trying to hide his emotions. “Whatever. I’m heading to bed.”

You watched him leave, feeling a pang of sadness. It was clear that the feelings were there, but neither of you were willing to take that leap. As you lay in bed that night, the familiar sense of longing mixed with frustration settled over you.

The next day, during training, your friends noticed the lingering tension and decided to take matters into their own hands. Kirishima and Mina cornered Katsuki after practice, their faces serious but determined.

“Listen, Bakugou,” Kirishima said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got to do something. You can’t keep dancing around this.”

Mina nodded. “Yeah. It’s obvious that you both care about each other. If you don’t act soon, you might lose your chance.”

Katsuki’s face reddened. “I know, damn it. But it’s not that simple.”

Mina crossed her arms. “It is that simple. You both clearly like each other. Just talk to her.”

Katsuki sighed, feeling the weight of their words. “Fine. I’ll talk to her.”

That evening, after another training session, Katsuki found you alone in the common room. He took a deep breath, trying to muster the courage he had been lacking.

“You still figuring things out?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked up, a mixture of hope and nervousness in your eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe I just need to hear it from you.”

Katsuki’s heart raced. He swallowed hard, the words caught in his throat. “Look, Y/N… I don’t want to mess things up. We’ve been friends for so long, and I don’t want to ruin that.”

You stepped closer, your gaze softening. “Katsuki, if there’s something more between us, I’d rather know than live with the uncertainty.”

Katsuki met your eyes, the walls he had built up slowly crumbling. “I… I care about you, a lot. More than just a friend.”

Your heart soared, and a relieved smile spread across your face. “I care about you too, Katsuki. I was just too afraid to say it.”

For a moment, there was silence, but it was filled with a new understanding. Katsuki took your hand, his grip firm but gentle.

“Then let’s stop pretending,” he said quietly. “Let’s just be honest with each other.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. “Yes, let’s.”

In that moment, the fear and uncertainty melted away, replaced by a newfound clarity and connection. As you stood there, hand in hand, you both knew that the next step would be different, but it was a step you were both ready to take together.

#bnha x reader #bnha #bnha fluff #mha #bakugou fluff #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #todoroki fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader

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heavenlyvision · 10 months

Text

Truth or dare

Word count: 10.3k

Pairing: Kung Lao x F!Reader

A/N: I have done it !!! I have completed my Kung Lao fic, I hope it feeds you all well. It has a lot of dialogue but I think it’s fun, enjoy !!! <33

Summary: Living with both Raiden and Kung Lao is a lot of fun but it can be exhausting, especially since Kung Lao likes to play stupid games.

Warnings: 18+ only, lots of dialogue, smut, dirty talk, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, no use of y/n, I think that’s all !!!

Today you have already been to work and done your shift, but that doesn’t mean you’re free from being there, Kung Lao and Raiden love madam Bo’s and you do too but having just finished a shift here and then staying as a customer is worrisome for you. Every time you’re here on your own time you get nervous about being asked to cover for someone or work an extra hour, it’s only happened a handful of times in all your years of working here but still, the fear lingers.

“Hey, you with us?” Kung Lao snaps his fingers in front of your face.

You’ve been staring at him mindlessly, not even taking in anything he was doing or saying, “Yeah, sorry.”

Raiden asks you, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just thinking.” You give him a polite smile.

“Worrying more like,” Kung Lao amends.

“Was not,” was too.

He argues, “You were, had your worried expression on and everything.”

“Whatever,” you huff.

“Leave her alone Kung Lao,” Raiden is always taking your side when it comes to things like this.

Kung Lao rolls his eyes at the pair of you, “Always teaming up on me,” he exaggerates.

“We do not,” your eyebrows pinch at him.

He whines slightly, “You do, always making me do the dishes and chores–”

“–Maybe if you did them when you are supposed to, we would not have to tell you to do them,” Raiden interjects.

“You’re complaining because we ask you to do your fair share at home?” You clarify.

“See?? You’re teaming up on me right now,” he sighs and shakes his head.

“I’m getting sick of you,” your tone is teasing but you keep a straight face.

Kung Lao’s hand moves to his chest in faux hurt at your statement.

“Should we kick him out?” Raiden joins your teasing.

Nodding solemnly, you say, “I think we might have to.”

Kung Lao gasps, “What the hell guys?”

Both you and Raiden are giving each other very sombre looks, pretending to be so sad about the loss of Kung Lao from your household.

“Guys?” Kung Lao’s tone is worried.

You look to him with your brows raised, “Are you gonna do your chores without being asked?”

He looks away in thought, “I mean… maybe?”

You shake your head at him and direct you attention to Raiden, “Lost cause,” you sigh.

“Indeed,” Raiden nods at you in agreeance.

“Okay, I do not like this joke anymore,” Kung Lao says.

Raiden and yourself break and start laughing at him.

“I do not like when you guys do that,” Kung Lao complains in reference to yours and Raiden’s ability to immediately pick up on the others joke and play along completely seriously.

You shrug at him, “I think it’s funny.”

He scowls back at you.

“Lighten up,” Raiden pats his back.

“One of you is paying for lunch,” he’s taking advantage of the situation.

Rolling your eyes at him you say, “I will pay.”

“I will pay,” Raiden argues with you.

Kung Lao turns to him, “You never offer to pay when it’s just us.”

“Because you eat a lot, plus, she paid last time,” Raiden shakes his head at him.

“I’m fine to pay again, I don’t mind.”

“I mind,” Raiden counters.

“As long as I’m not paying, I do not mind,” Kung Lao jokes.

“We won’t make you pay; you have to keep your money for the new place you’ll be getting after we kick you out,” you jest.

Raiden chuckles at you but Kung Lao makes an unhappy face.

“Don’t pout Kung Lao, I’m just kidding,” you wonder if you took it too far.

Raiden warns, “He’s baiting you, do not feel bad for him.”

“Raiden, I could’ve convinced her to do my chores for me or something, always ruining things for me,” he whinges.

“You would think she’d have learnt by now not to feel bad for you,” Raiden languishes.

“I am right here,” you interrupt.

Living with them has taken years off your lifespan, you think.

Pointing as you say, “The day I do your chores for you is the day I die, Kung Lao.”

He lets out an over-the-top groan, throwing his head back.

“Okay, enough theatrics,” Raiden says, ending the direction of the conversation.

It’s good that he did, because Kung Lao and yourself would sit here all day going back and forth with the other. The both of you seemingly incapable of ending the bit, always bouncing off the other, increasing the drama of the situation until one of you pretends to feel hurt and the other apologises. It’s not a particularly harmful thing for either of you but the never ending back and forth between the two of you harms Raiden, in the way that he gets exhausted just watching the two of you. Quite frankly, it’s worse at home, the two of you at least try to behave out in public, or you do anyways.

You look to Raiden and give him your best begging eyes, “Please don’t kick me out.”

“Stop that!” Kung Lao points at you.

“Stop what?” You ask.

He frowns, “Stop being cute to get your way.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” you shrug, feigning innocence.

Raiden rolls his eyes at the both of you, “I think I might move out.”

“You can’t leave me alone with him!” You protest, lowering your voice as you say, “I’d accidentally get him wet after midnight and he’d eat me or something.”

Kung Lao takes in a breath, ready to say something but Raiden stops him, “Do not say whatever it is you are planning to.”

He deflates at Raiden’s words, sighing, “You never let me have any fun.”

“For good reason,” he retorts.

Raiden pays Madam Bo for lunch and you’re all heading home, filling the rest of the day with miscellaneous activities. Mostly, you stay in your room and read, invested in the current romance novel you bought the other day.

In the time that you’re reading the sun sets and the front door closing brings you back to the real world, you decide it might be time that you exit your room and see what’s happened in your absence.

As you enter the living area you only see Raiden, “Where’s Kung Lao?” You ask.

Looking up to you, he replies, “He’s got that date tonight, remember?”

You walk over to him and sit down, “I had forgotten, he met her at Madam Bo’s, didn’t he?”

He nods at you, “Yeah, last week.”

Humming, you say, “A girl who has seen Kung Lao eat and agrees to a date with him is a brave girl indeed.”

Raiden chuckles at your words.

You don’t have any feelings in particular towards Kung Lao going on a date tonight, or any night really. Predominantly because he never really dates them; he goes out and either gets lucky or comes home and complains about how something they did was annoying or weird. Last time, she didn’t like tea and he thought that was a red flag and never saw her again.

“I am bored,” you whinge.

Raiden huffs at you, amused, “What do you want to do?”

“Scrabble?”

“I do not like playing scrabble against you,” he says.

You know why he doesn’t like playing against you, but you ask anyways, “Why not?”

“You take it too seriously,” he shakes his head at you.

“Please,” you pout at him, hands clasped together.

He rolls his head, sighing, “Fine, but only if you try to be normal about it.”

“If you didn’t play stupid words this wouldn’t be an issue,” you retort.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, “You’re already starting.”

“I’m sorry! I’ll behave, promise.” You give him your most innocent smile.

“Okay, go get the board.” He speaks.

“Yes!” You get up to go get the board from your room, briefly you think of how much of a sucker he is.

When you come back, you set it up at the table, the both of you sit across from each other. The beginning of the game goes well, you’re pretty close in score for a while but as you both play against one another, you find it increasingly difficult to be normal. He always plays stupid words but the one he’s just put down makes you want to reach over and strangle him.

Your eye twitches as you say, “’Ax’ is not a valid scrabble word.”

“It is.” is all he says in response.

“No, and if it is, it is wrong because ‘ax’ should have an ‘e’ on the end of it to be a word.” You’re restraining yourself from getting upset about this but there is no way that is a scrabble word.

“Go get the scrabble dictionary if you don’t believe me,” he shrugs at you.

Squinting at him in scrutiny, you get up and go get the book.

Once you’ve sat back down in front of him, you flick through the pages to determine if it’s valid or not. When you find it, you are more than upset.

“Did you find it?” He asks, his voice already laced with victory.

Scowling at him, you say, “Yes… I still don’t think it should be a word though.”

“Why not?”

You’re a bit frantic as you explain, “It literally defines an axe with an ‘e’, it shouldn’t be allowed as ax when axe is spelled as axe and is also a valid scrabble word, you can’t have two words spelt differently with the same definition.”

He shakes his head at you, “Are you even trying to be normal about this?”

“I am putting in so much effort, be grateful.” His stupid word is stupid and outrageous.

“Fair enough, I am grateful.” He smiles at you; you’re frowning at him.

Taking a deep breath, you give him his stupid twenty-four points, since he got a stupid triple word score with his stupid two letter made up word.

It’s not long after that when Kung Lao walks in through the front door. He sees you both playing scrabble and remarks, “You guys are like two old people in a nursing home.”

You ignore his comparison, “You’re home early,” you comment, not looking at him, instead staring intently at the board.

Raiden is putting down his next word and you swear to God if it’s something ridiculous, you’re flipping the board. He’s currently 20 points ahead, and he’s only winning because of his bullshit word.

Kung Lao walks over to you both and stands behind you, watching over your shoulder. He winces at your letters because how do you currently not have a single consonant.

“She wouldn’t stop talking about her ex, it was weird,” Kung Lao explains. “Babe, I’m sorry but you have the worst letters right now.”

You turn around and slap at him, “I know that, thank you babe,” you huff out at him, you didn’t need his commentary.

“You never call me babe,” Raiden directs at Kung Lao jokingly and you chuckle at him.

You abruptly stop laughing and say to him, “Don’t make me laugh, I am so annoyed at you right now.”

“Why do you keep agreeing to play scrabble with each other? It never ends well.” Kung Lao states. “By the way, one of you spelt axe wrong,” he observes.

“See? Even Kung Lao thinks it’s wrong!” You point at Raiden accusatorily.

“I don’t think it’s wrong, that is objectively spelt wrong,” comes Kung Lao’s reply.

Raiden opens the dictionary and shoves it in his face, “It is right there, it is legal!”

“How many points did you get for it?” Kung Lao asks, squinting at the book to read it.

“Twenty-four,” you grit out.

Raiden is proud as he says, “I got a triple word score.”

You’re seething in your seat; you still haven’t gotten over it.

“Who’s winning?” He asks.

You feel like you might strain yourself, “He is, by twenty points.”

Kung Lao cringes, “Yikes.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, “Try not to flip the board.”

“I’m not going to flip the board.”

“You did that one time I played against you,” he reminds.

“Because cwm shouldn’t be a word,” you pout.

“It is though,” he shrugs at you.

“It shouldn’t be though!” You scowl at him, “Still annoyed about that.”

“And that’s why I won’t play scrabble with you anymore,” he tells you.

“You guys act like I am the crazy one, you’re the ones putting down stupid words,” you whinge.

Kung Lao places his hand on top of your head and shakes you lightly. You slap him away, “Stop it.”

He chuckles at you and moves across the room to flop onto the couch.

“Did it not go well?” Raiden asks, looking at his letters.

Kung Lao looks at him with his brows raised, “Are you deaf or something? I said before, she spoke about her ex the whole time, it was uncomfortable.”

“Ah that is right, sorry, I am distracted.” Raiden’s reply is dismissive, trying to determine his next move.

You snicker at the both of them; you find their interactions funny.

“I am sorry about your stroke of bad luck Kung Lao,” you look at him pitifully.

His eyebrows frown at you, “What do you mean?”

Raiden answers for you, “Every date you go on at the moment, you either strike out or there is something “wrong” with her.” He uses finger quotes on his use of ‘wrong’.

“That is not true,” Kung Lao protests.

“Mmmm yes, it is,” you counter.

He huffs, laying back down, “Whatever, when’s the last time either of you got any?”

You decide to make a stupid joke, “Earlier, we did it while you were gone,” you keep your voice even and steady, trying to be convincing. You lightly kick at Raiden under the table, asking him to play along.

Raiden looks to you, his face straight as he says, “Yup, was great, real hot.”

Hearing Raiden say that almost makes you lose it laughing on the spot, but you soldier on.

At what you’ve both ‘confessed’ to, Kung Lao shoots up on the couch and looks between the two of you, “Actually?!”

“Yeah, best I ever had,” you say, Raiden looks like he might injure himself across from you.

Kung Lao is in disbelief, “You guys have to be joking, there’s no way!”

You nod your head very seriously, “There is, it was the only way Raiden would play scrabble with me.”

“Mhm, yeah, that was my condition.” Raiden confirms.

“I’m about to lose my mind, what the hell?” Kung Lao’s tone seems like he’s stressing himself out. “Why would you– I mean– with Raiden???” His attention is completely on you, he looks lost and maybe a little upset? You aren’t sure.

You smile at him, your lips shaking with how much you’re trying to contain your laughter.

“She is joking,” Raiden says, ending the joke quicker than you usually would.

“Boo, why’d you tell him so soon,” you complain.

Raiden looks over to Kung Lao, “Because he looks like he’s about to pass out.”

The both of you are lightly chuckling at the whole thing, Kung Lao looks confused.

“So, you two didn’t sleep together?” He asks, pointing between the two of you.

“Not tonight,” you tease.

“WHAT?” He exclaims.

Raiden clarifies, “Not any night.”

You give Raiden a thumbs down in response, he’s ruining your fun.

“I think I just aged twenty years,” Kung Lao says, “I need to lay down,” he lays himself back down on the couch, being overdramatic as usual.

You shake your head at him, “Why would you care anyways?”

“I have rights,” is his ominous response.

Your eyebrows pull together at his odd behaviour, “You sure do, buddy.”

“Alright, play your word, I want to end this game,” Raiden says, bringing your attention back to scrabble.

Sadly, you lose to him by ten points, and you feel cheated. His stupid word is what got him the win. You object to him about it, but he ignores you, too pleased in himself with his bullshit win.

“I am never playing scrabble with you ever again,” you huff, crossing your arms and slumping back in your chair.

Kung Lao calls out to you, “You say that every time you lose to one of us.”

“And then you get bored and beg us to play against you,” Raiden finishes.

“I do not beg,” you sulk.

Raiden reminds you, “You did earlier, said you’d behave and everything.”

“What? Every time she asks me, I get threatened, not begged.” Kung Lao complains from over on the couch.

You shrug at him, “You aren’t as much of a sucker as Raiden.”

“I’ll remember that you have just said that,” Raiden says.

Smiling sweetly at him you reply, “I’m sorry.”

He smiles at you faintly, immediately forgiving you, “It’s fine.”

“You are a sucker,” Kung Lao directs at Raiden.

You laugh at the both of them, “Alright, I’m going to bed, good night.” You get up from your seat and start walking down the hall to your room.

“Wait,” Kung Lao calls to you, making you stop where you’re standing.

You wait for him to continue, he lifts his forearm off his eyes to look at you, “Are you working tomorrow?”

“Yeah, in the evening though,” you inform him.

“Alright, good night,” he says.

“Good night,” Raiden says as well.

You hum to the both of them and wander off to bed for the evening.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

The next day when you wake up, they are both gone, already having started their days while you slept. There isn’t much you feel like you can do currently, feeling stuck in waiting mode for your shift at work. It isn’t for another handful of hours that you have to get ready, but you don’t feel like you can do anything in the meantime. So, instead of going out, you stay home and read some more, do some odd cleaning, and get upset remembering how you lost at scrabble last night.

They both probably won’t play against you for a couple months now since you got pretty close to flipping the board last night. It doesn’t matter though, when they won’t play you, Madam Bo does, and she at least uses real words. She’s the one who taught you to play, and she doesn’t appreciate their stupid words either, so it’s always nice to play with her. Preferable even.

As you watch the sun hang low in the sky you think it’s about time to get ready for work, you consider taking the scrabble board with you but ultimately decide against it. Staying late to play scrabble isn’t something you want to do tonight, maybe if you had a day shift instead. Next time, you think.

As you walk into work you take note that it is busy-ish, busier than usual, it’s the end of the week and people are hungry, coming here to treat themselves instead of cooking at home. Which is good… just means there is more for you to do.

It’s towards the tail end of your shift when Raiden and Kung Lao walk in, sitting in their usual spot. You realise now, Kung Lao asked you last night when you were working so they could come in during your shift. They usually walk back with you if they’re in the area but if you’re working a later shift one or both of them will come in towards your finishing time so they can walk you home.

It’s sweet that they do, it’s also handy because sometimes the customers will relentlessly flirt with you or wait until you finish the shift and try to hook up with you afterwards. Having Kung Lao and Raiden here prevents that from happening, though, it’d be better if you being uninterested and saying no was enough.

As you make your way over to their table, you get stopped by a familiar face, he’s a regular you haven’t really interacted much with.

“Hey…” His voice gets awkward as you stop in front of him, like he wasn’t expecting you to pay attention to him. He’s kinda cute, in an awkward and shy sort of way.

“May I help you?” You ask, in customer service mode.

He scratches at the back of his head awkwardly, “Uhm yes… well not like, I don’t need help… I um… wanted to tell you how pretty you are…” He’s stumbling over his words and blushing insanely hard. It’s endearing.

You’re kind of into it, thinking back to what Kung Lao said last night you realise it has been a while since you got any action, dating and otherwise.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you to say,” you smile politely at him, okay so you’re a little rusty on the flirting front too.

He looks a little shocked at your openness to his clumsy flirting, “…Would you, like to go on a date? With me? Some day?”

You go to reply to him, but Kung Lao has walked up to you, “You know, it’s kinda rude to leave customers waiting, babe.”

“Give me a minute,” you look at him, frowning politely, trying to get him to understand that he needs to leave… right now.

“Oh, are you guys… together?” The cute stranger asks.

You say, “No.”

As Kung Lao says, “Yes.”

You look at him dubiously, confused by what he’s doing.

The man sitting at the table looks even more confused than you do, “I’m really sorry, I’m lost,” he says.

You exhale before speaking to Kung Lao, “Go sit down, I’ll be at your table shortly.”

He looks at you, gaze scrutinizing. You have no idea what’s gotten into him, this is the first time he’s interrupted you while with a customer. Normally if you need help, you handle it yourself or look to them, but you didn’t prompt his help.

He huffs slightly as he walks back over to the table, Raiden mouths ‘sorry’ at you, feeling badly for not being able to stop Kung Lao. You make a note to yourself to ask Kung Lao what he was thinking just now.

“I am so sorry, that was my roommate,” you direct your attention back to the shy man in front of you.

He looks relieved, “That’s okay… so, um… about going on a date? With me?”

“I think I’d like that,” you say.

The both of you exchange names and numbers and you say goodbye to him, needing to get back to work. Which means going over to Kung Lao and Raiden’s table.

Walking up to them, you ask, “Are you guys ready to order?” You’re using your customer service voice on them.

“Don’t be mad,” Kung Lao moans.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. I’m just here to take your order,” you reply, tense smile on your face.

He turns to look at Raiden, pleading, “Do something.”

“I would like some tea,” Raiden smiles at you, trying to avoid worsening the situation.

“What kind?” You ask.

“Surprise me,” he’s being tugged on by Kung Lao but is ignoring him.

You nod and go to turn around but Kung Lao tugs on your apron, causing you to stop and look at him, “Yes?”

“I am sorry,” he mumbles, letting go of your apron.

Grabbing the top of his head and making him look at you, you tell him, “You better be, you embarrassed me.” You let go of his head, patting it once.

“I didn’t mean to…” he frowns at you, smoothing his hair back.

You hum your reply, “Mhm, I’m so sure.”

Raiden asks, “Did he ask you out?”

You nod at him, “Yeah, we exchanged numbers.”

Kung Lao makes a face of displeasure, prompting you to ask, “What is wrong now?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs at you, “Just thought he was weird.”

“He was nice,” you counter.

He immediately asks you, “Why are you even interested in him?”

You consider your answer, “He’s cute, and seems nice.”

Raiden is exasperated with the two of you, choosing to check out of the conversation. Looking away from the pair of you, suddenly finding the wall very interesting.

“People always hit on you, you never give them your number,” Kung Lao recounts.

Shrugging at him as you say, “You’re the one who’s always saying I never get out.”

“It’s not like that’s a bad thing,” he retorts.

You roll your eyes at him, this conversation is going nowhere, “Whatever, I’m done talking about this. Do you want some tea?”

He folds his arms over his chest, pouting slightly, “Yes.”

“Okay,” you chuckle a little at his response, finding his sulking cute.

Turning around you go to get their tea. They’re only buying something so that they can stay until you finish your shift, which looking at the clock, you have less than an hour left of it.

The rest of your shift goes by quickly, which you’re thankful for. You’re ready to get into bed, tomorrow is the beginning of the weekend and it’ll be the first one you have off in a while. Lately, you’ve been covering all the weekend shifts. Madam Bo is low on staff and the staff that she does have other than you, don’t want to work the weekend shifts.

Picking up the slack doesn’t bother you that much, but you have been experiencing some burn out lately, overworking yourself a little. Which Madam Bo noticed and refused to let you come in this weekend.

When you are ready to leave, Kung Lao and Raiden are waiting for you out the front.

You come up from behind them, “Thank you, for walking me back,” you tell them, grateful that they both care for you.

“You are welcome,” Raiden says, smile polite.

Kung Lao pats your head, “You attract weirdos, someone has to walk you home.” He jokes.

You’re rolling your eyes at him as you flick his hand off your head, “Not nice.”

“Sorry,” he apologises quickly, “It’s not your fault.”

You hum at him, “It’s fine.”

The three of you begin your walk home, the stars are beautiful, there’s so many of them out here. As you walk in between the two of them, you feel an overwhelming affection for them both, your hands slip into theirs; holding both of them at the same time and swinging them back and forth.

They both allow it, letting you have your moment.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

With the late finish last night and your recent exhaustion, you sleep in until later in the day. You wake up confused and lost, like you’ve lost ten years or something. Blearily, you look at the clock on your wall, it’s one in the afternoon. You think? You’re having a hard time comprehending the minute and hour hands on the clock right now.

Getting out of bed, you wander through the house, looking for one of the other two. Raiden isn’t anywhere to be found but Kung Lao is sitting in the lounge, snacking.

“You’re finally up,” he observes as you shuffle into the lounge. You feel like a corpse, “Geez, are you okay?” He asks you.

Shaking your head at him is your response, you don’t feel like talking yet.

He pats the cushion beside him for you to sit on. Which you do, shuffling forward and collapsing into it, knocking into him on your way down.

“Is it after one?” You ask him.

“If by after one you mean it’s two, then yeah,” he chuckles at you lightly, “You sure you’re good?”

“Mm fine, why didn’t you wake me?”

“You have been overworking yourself, figured you could use the extra sleep,” he shrugs at you.

You grunt at him, “I feel like I’ve been in a coma.”

“You look like it too,” he teases, putting his snack off to the side.

The expression on your face is one of displeasure at his comment, you move past it though, instead asking him, “Where’s Raiden?”

“I dunno, out doing stuff?” His response is unconcerned.

Shaking your head at him you say, “You didn’t ask him?”

“Nah,” he’s still unbothered.

You can’t tell if he’s not curious enough or if you’re too nosey. “You need to ask more questions.”

“Maybe you need to ask less,” he retorts.

You roll your eyes at him and get up, retreating back to your room, “I’m going back to my room.” You tell him, choosing to change and freshen up slightly.

“Okay,” he hums at you thoughtlessly.

He doesn’t leave you alone for long though. You’re reading on your stomach in bed when he knocks on your door, he’s only been alone for twenty minutes but he knows you’re awake now and he likes company.

“Come in,” you call to him.

He walks in and flops down on his back next to you on your bed, “I’m bored,” he complains.

“When aren’t you?”

He just groans at you in response.

You’re exasperated when you ask, “What am I meant to do about it?”

His head turns to the side to smile at you, “I am so glad you asked.”

It’s your turn to groan now, you regret asking just from the look on his face.

“I wanna play a game,” he informs you.

“What kind of game,” you ask, voice laced with your uncertainty.

His smile turns just slightly evil, “Truth or dare.”

You drop your head into your mattress between your arms, your hands are still holding your book, “Isn’t that a game for a bunch of horny teens?”

He takes your book from your hands and chucks it to the floor; you pop your head up to look at him, “Hey!” You protest, “don’t break my book about it.”

“It’s a way for us to get to know each other better,” He argues against your prior question.

You side eye him as you say, “I already know far too much about you.”

“Come on, I’m bored,” he whinges.

“Kung Lao, this is a dumb game, if you wanna know things about me, just ask.”

He rolls his eyes at you, uninterested in your suggestion, “That is boring, plus in truth or dare you have to tell the truth, it’s the law.”

“Are you going to be annoying about this if I refuse?” You ask, already knowing that he is.

“Probably,” he shrugs.

Your face drops back into the mattress, “Fine.”

He celebrates, “Nice! Okay, I’ll be nice and you can ask first.”

“Truth or dare?” You drone into the fabric of the bed, voice muffled.

“Truth,” he answers.

“Lame,” you tease, “I dunno what to ask you.”

“Anything you want, free reign,” he says, eyes looking to your ceiling.

You whine into the bed, “Too much power.”

“You are such a wuss,” he chortles at you.

“Shut up,” you think on it a bit longer, “Mmmm, oh okay! Why did you interrupt me and that guy last night?”

“Dumb question,” he criticises.

You look to him, head still flat to the mattress, “Gotta answer, your rules.”

He scowls at your roof, “Didn’t like him.”

“Why not?”

He tuts at you, “You gotta wait till the next round if you want to know,” he looks to you, both your faces are close to each other, “Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” you answer.

He hums as he thinks of a question, his gaze mischievous as he settles on what he wants to ask, “How many people have you slept with?”

“Dare,” you change your answer and lay your face back into mattress.

“You can’t do that,” he’s laughing at you.

You mumble to him, “I just did.”

“Fine, I dare you to answer my question then.”

“You are such a loser,” you protest, sighing as you answer, “One.”

“I was expecting a higher number,” he says.

“Sorry I’m not a whore like you,” you tease.

“I like being a whore, thank you very much.”

You hum to him, not interested in actually answering him, “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” He answers, you look to him and he’s smiling cheekily at you, premeditating that you were probably going to ask him the same question and trying to avoid it.

“This is not fun,” you whine.

He purses his lips at you, “I am having fun.”

“’Course you are.”

“Just give me the dare already,” his hand taps your shoulder blade.

You decide to play the same way he did with you, “I dare you to tell me when the last time you got laid was.” You’re hoping to give him a taste of his own medicine, perhaps make him uncomfortable but you aren’t that lucky.

“Probably… a month, maybe.” He answers with no hesitation, “I see you have lowered yourself to my level,” he laughs at you, pleased by you using his same strategy.

“I have so many regrets,” your face is still pushed into the sheets, you’re refusing to look at him.

“I miss sex,” he sighs.

“I’m not bothered.”

“When was the last time you had sex?”

“Not your business,” you tell him.

“You’re gonna have to answer cause that’s what I’m gonna ask you whether you pick truth or dare,” he pokes your side.

Slapping his hand you say, “I don’t know, when was my last relationship?”

“Like two years ago,” he answers for you, voice shocked.

“Calm down, it’s not that big of a deal.”

He sits up suddenly, “No wonder you don’t miss sex, you have forgotten how good it is.”

“It was never that great anyways,”

“Oh, you poor thing,” his tone is laced with pity, genuinely feeling for you, “I feel so bad for you.”

“Well stop, I’m literally fine,” you huff at him.

He rolls you onto your back and looks down at you, “Hurry up and ask me truth or dare, I have more things to ask you now.” He looks a little too excited right now.

You don’t want to know what else he wants to ask you, “I don’t think I wanna play anymore.”

“Come on! It was just getting good,” he’s staring at you very intently, it’s making you feel self-conscious.

Looking away from him and already regretting this, you ask him, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

You decide to bring it back around, “Why didn’t you like the guy at Madam Bo’s?”

He scowls at your question; he seemingly doesn’t want to answer this one question.

“We could always do something else,” you try giving him an out, mostly you’re trying to give yourself an out.

He keeps eye contact with you, “No… I don’t know, I just didn’t like him or how he was looking at you.”

You feel a little warm in the face under his gaze, “What does that mean?”

He smirks at you, “Nope, my turn now, truth or dare.”

“Does it even matter what I pick at this point?”

“Nope, not really,” his eyes are alight, amused at all of this, you guess.

You give him the response he wants, “Truth.”

“Your last partner, he ever get you to finish?”

“Kind of?” you wince at your answer.

He prompts you for more information, “What does that mean?”

“I guess, technically no?” His eyes on you are piercing, he’s waiting for you to elaborate but you don’t know if you want to, “I mean, he needed… my help?”

Kung Lao’s eyes widen in understanding, “You poor woman,” he’s shaking his head pitifully at you, “Now I understand why you don’t miss it, wasn’t any different from masturbating.”

You feel beyond embarrassed now, you reach your hand up and over his mouth, “You need to stop talking.”

From under your hand, you feel his tongue lick you, “Ew! What the hell?” You sit up properly, he’s closer to you than you were expecting.

He laughs at your disgust, proud of himself.

Your eyebrows raise at him, “Can we be done with this now?”

His own eyebrows pinch in thought, “Mmm, no.”

“Kung Lao,” you whine at him, frustrated by his persistence, “If you are so bored we can play scrabble.”

“I am not playing scrabble against you anytime soon,” he shoots back, “Plus, this is way more fun.”

“For you maybe,” you mutter before collapsing back onto the mattress.

Kung Lao’s eyes trace up your body, lingering on every part of you, “Have some shame Kung Lao,” you joke.

“We could kill two birds with one stone?” He proposes.

This is already headed in a suggestive direction and being the more responsible of the two, you feel like you should shut him down.

He doesn’t let you talk though, “I miss sex and you don’t know how good it is,” his eyes are burning into yours, he’s completely serious.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you tell him honestly.

“I think it’s a fantastic idea,” he presses, “I guarantee you’ll thank me after.”

Your gaze is stern as you look at him, “This could irreparably damage our friendship.” Your choice of words leave an opening for him.

“But you are considering it,” he blinks at you, ignoring your concerns and instead focusing on the small window of opportunity you unintentionally left.

Your eyebrows pull together, he just wants to get his dick wet and you’re the one here right now, “You’re working yourself up, go have a cold shower or something.”

He chuckles, “You want to die not knowing how good I am?”

You rolls your eyes at him and his cockiness, “Your ego is taking up so much room in here, why don’t I leave you alone with it?”

His hand is bold as it rests on your thigh, “I think… you are interested in what I have to offer.”

You’re trying your best to be unaffected by him but he is cute and has such strong looking arms, his biceps are defined and muscular. The hand on your thigh is large and warm, his heated gaze is hard to avoid, it’s making you warm all over.

Being touched by him is overwhelming, you haven’t been touched by someone intimately or otherwise in a long time and it’s making your skin buzz.

“Truth or dare?” He asks suddenly, pulling his hand away and sitting cross legged beside you. His eyes are still watching you.

You groan as you pull yourself up into a sitting position in front of him, mirroring the way he is sat, “I don’t think it’s your turn to ask.”

“Well, ask then,” he replies.

You huff at him, feeling confused by his actions, “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to…” you purse your lips in thought, wanting to make him uncomfortable or embarrassed like he did to you but you aren’t convinced you can.

Mindlessly, your eyes flit to his hands again, they’re resting on his knees. You can’t stop thinking about his hand on your thigh, it’s quite frankly embarrassing how touch starved you are.

One of his hands reaches out, his finger hooks under your chin and raises your eyeline back to his, he’s smirking at you, “Eyes up here, babe.” His tone is smug.

“I know,” you push his hand away.

He smiles knowingly at you, “What were you looking at?”

“Nothing, I was thinking,” you try dismissing him.

He hums at you, not convinced of your answer but letting you get away with it anyways.

“I dare you to… give me a hug.” You settle on, it’s dumb and a little self-indulgent but you haven’t been held in a long time.

Kung Lao looks dumbfounded by your dare, “If you wanted a hug you did not have to dare me for one.” His voice is amused as he speaks but his hands reach out to you and pull you into his lap so you’re straddling him.

In this position your knees rest beside his folded legs as your arms wrap around his middle, holding him to you. Kung Lao’s own large arms hold you; his embrace is firm and comforting. You think it’s a little pathetic of you to enjoy this so much but you feel very content in his hold.

“You are weird,” he hums, his chest vibrates with it.

Ignoring his comment, you enjoy the hug, he is warm and firm and you think he gives the best hugs. When you think you’ve overstayed your welcome in his arms you go to move away but he holds you to him, not letting you go.

His hands roam up and down your back in a soothing motion, “My previous offer still stands.”

He lets you pull back this time but he doesn’t allow you to leave his lap, your faces are close together and his eyes are slightly lidded as he waits for your response.

You voice your concerns, “I still don’t think that’s a good idea…”

One of his hands leaves your back and grasps the side of your face, his eyes are looking you over, lingering on your lips. His thumb traces your bottom lip lightly, his soft touch and intense gaze is making your resolve shaky.

“Tell me no, tell me that you are not interested,” his voice seems strained, laced with desire.

Your reply is hesitant, “I– it’s not about that, if this ruined our friendship… I’d never forgive myself.”

His eyes are begging you, “You can blame me then.”

Something about his borderline desperation for you is making you dizzy; his presence is surrounding you and it’s making your thoughts cloudy. The hand on your face, the other on your hip, his pleading eyes, it’s all making you want him.

Maybe hugging him was a bad idea, with how close he is now, you can’t make a well thought out decision. All you can think about is him and his soft lips and how badly you want him.

One of your own hands comes up to his face, stroking his cheek bone. Instead of replying to him, you lean in and kiss him lightly, you’re timid, unsure if this is what he really wants. He sighs against you, his mouth responds to you quickly, taking control of the kiss and holding you firmly.

His kiss is hot, and wet and it’s a lot. It’s consuming, especially when he deepens it. The way he’s kissing you makes your heart leap in your chest and the longer his lips are on yours, the more eager his kiss gets.

He has a whimper falling from you and at the sound he pulls back, the pair of you are breathless, his expression is cocky when he looks at you. The look on your face is apparently delightful to him, both his hands hold your face as he looks at you.

“You have such a pretty look on your face right now,” he purrs at you.

His words make you buzz, you’re throbbing for him and it’s annoying that he’s so smug about it. To punish him, you go to move away but his hands quickly move to your hips and pull you back to him, your pussy makes contact with his crotch. The minor contact makes you gasp.

You whine at him, “Kung Lao–”

“–Can I have you?” He cuts you off, his grip holding you to him, you can feel how hard he is under you. The size and feel of him is distracting you, you’re needy, “Pay attention,” he scolds, his own need for you is overwhelming but he needs your consent first.

“Please,” you ask. He considers you for a moment and it makes you whine at him, “What?”

“Wondering if I should make you beg for it,” he replies.

“I don’t think you could,” you dispute.

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Is that a challenge?”

Suddenly, you regret your words. He may have a large ego but there is usually a reason behind it, and unfortunately, you are touch starved and needy for him. You have no doubts that he could make you beg.

You’re serious as you say, “No.”

“That was a quick change of heart,” he smiles at you.

You look away from him, “I don’t think it would be nice of you to do…”

“It would be hot though,” he counters.

The way he’s looking at you is suggestive even with the humour in his words, you completely believe that he absolutely would tease you until you begged him for it and that it probably would be hot, but with how wet and needy you are all you want is for him to fuck you nicely.

You’re shy as you confess, “I want you, now.” You hope that if you’re honest, he’ll show mercy.

His grip on you tightens lightly, his dick jumps at your admission. Suddenly, he’s pushing you off him and onto your back, flat on the mattress. He pulls off his shirt, exposing his torso to you, the sight has your mouth watering. His muscles move under his skin with his movements, and it makes you rub your thighs together for friction. His hands urgently tug your pants and underwear off at once, his haste takes you off guard.

His hands spread your thighs open, looking down shamelessly at your wet cunt, you try to close your legs, but his hands hold you apart, “You’re so wet,” he observes, and it makes you squirm against him, he’s doing too much.

He moves his eyes off your centre and looks at your shirt, deciding he dislikes it, “That needs to come off.”

You hesitate slightly, feeling very exposed compared to him but you comply and tug it off over your head, chucking it down onto the floor. He places your thighs on his hips and then his hands travel up your body, caressing your sides, before he places both hands on the mattress either side your head.

Leaning down he lowers himself onto his forearms and takes your lips in his again, his tongue immediately in your mouth. His kiss is dirty and leaves you breathless, desperate. One of his hands touches your skin again. Moving down your body to grip at your thigh, holding you to him. He then moves his hand to touch your pussy, he slides his fingers through your wetness. The feeling has you moaning into his mouth, he swallows your sounds, kissing you hungrily.

When he pulls back, he keeps his forehead to yours. His fingers caress at you, spreading your slick around, his gaze is far away as he looks at you. Eventually he can’t take it and pulls back from you, sitting between your thighs and watching his fingers play with your cunt.

“Don’t think I have ever been with someone this wet,” he groans at you, his words make you feel embarrassed, and you try to close your legs, “It’s a good thing, babe,” he assures you, not wanting you to deprive him of the view.

His finger probes at your opening, he grunts as he pushes it into you, “Poor thing, you can barely take my finger.” His tone is filled with faux pity.

You supress a whine at the feeling of his finger entering you, his eyes are completely distracted with the way you’re sucking him in. His thumb circles your clit firmly, wanting you to relax. The stimulation makes you whimper and bite your lip.

He speaks to you, “Don’t need to be quiet, preferable if you weren’t, actually.”

“It’s –ngh– embarrassing, to be loud,” you respond.

“Who told you that?” His eyes are still watching your pussy, he’s starting to withdraw his finger, pushing it right back in, a squelching noise filling the room at his actions. The sound makes a deep groan come from him.

The feeling makes you gasp, hands covering your mouth as you moan.

“I like the sounds you make, they’re cute,” he pulls his finger out just to stuff a second in next to it, you feel full as you pulse around him.

“You wouldn’t know,” you counter.

“Hmm that’s cute… you think I can’t hear you? Late at night, shoving your fingers into your tight little pussy?” Both his fingers are working you open, fucking into you softly.

His words shock you, it’s not often that you indulge and to know he’s heard you sets your skin on fire.

“Always make such cute sounds, can hear how you try to be quiet,” he purrs to you, eyes never leaving your cunt, too involved with stretching you open. He wants you to take him, he wants you to be full of him.

When in doubt, deny, “I –hah– dunno what you’re –nghff– talking about.”

He chuckles at your flimsy lie, “Can deny all you want but I know what I hear, the way you gasp and whine is difficult to forget.” His hand moves quicker, the lewd sounds in the room getting louder with how wet his words make you.

His control right now is surprising even to him, abruptly he pulls his fingers from you and the loss makes you whine. He looks to you and then shoves his fingers, wet from you into your mouth, you suck them clean and the expression on his face looks like he’s about to fall apart in front of you.

After he retracts them slowly from your mouth, he lays on his stomach between your thighs.

“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him quickly.

His eyes are dark, “I know, I want to.”

His hands grab onto your legs and throw them over his shoulders. He blows on your cunt just to watch you twitch for him; his gaze is greedy. And so is his tongue as he licks into you, his mouth downright worshiping your pussy as he tastes you.

Your back arches off the bed at the contact, head swimming in ecstasy at the way his tongue fucks you, his nose pressed into your clit. It’s got your eyes rolling back and hands gripping the sheets, you’re incredibly wet, getting him wet and messy. You want him inside you, you want his body on yours, want him to press his skin up against yours as he fucks you. You want him.

He moans into your pussy, his pace quickening. He’s determined to have you cumming on his face and unwilling to pull away until you do. His hands hold your thighs spread for him, his tongue laps at you, he pulls it out of your pussy hole to suck on your clit. It has you seeing stars, moans and whimpers increasing, so incredibly close to the edge.

As he enters his fingers back inside you and begins stroking your inner walls, you start to tighten around him. He hums happily into your cunt, knowing you’re so close to cumming. Your thighs try to close around his head, but his grip holds you steady, it’s the prick of his nails biting into you slightly that has you finishing around his fingers.

You release supressed whimpers as you cum and when he notices that you are cumming, he rips his fingers from you and replaces them with his mouth, swallowing your release eagerly. He moans into your cunt at the taste of you, overjoyed at your orgasm.

When he pulls back, he’s tugging his pants down and taking them off, desperate for you. His own arousal setting him on fire, so close to finishing just from making you cum. He strokes his dick languidly, the slight pressure making him sigh out in relief.

The sight of his cock reminds you of how badly you want to be filled with him, drained slightly from your orgasm but still needy for him. He’s fucking his hand to the sight of you, one of his hands holds your thighs apart while he kneels between them, stroking himself and looking at your cunt.

“Kung Lao,” you whine at him, urging him to move along.

He looks to you, his eyes are lidded and filled with lust, but he smirks at you, “Beg.”

His word punches you in the gut, he wants you to beg for his dick. He gave you a taste of euphoria and is now withholding.

“Mm not gonna beg,” you tell him.

His voice is slightly strained, holding back a moan, “That’s really too bad.”

He leans over you, his hand on your thigh moving to beside your head, holding his weight above you. He moves the tip of his cock through your folds, rubbing you and spreading your slick over the tip of his dick. You wonder if he’s going to give up that easily, but as he keeps sliding his cockhead against you, you realise you’re not that lucky. He’s teasing you, the sensation of him has you keening, wanting to moan but containing the sounds, not wanting him to have the satisfaction.

“Cause I think you’d sound really cute if you begged me,” he adds onto his previous statement.

“Hah– Mm not gonna beg,” you repeat.

“We will see,” his reply is unworried, unrushed, taking this at his own pace.

He continues moving the head of his dick through your folds before briefly dipping to your pussy hole, stretching you on him just the smallest bit before pulling away. He pulls away from your cunt and strokes himself, he moans at the feeling.

His eyes are on you and your needy gaze, “Could have it right now, babe.” He taunts, the tip of his cock pushing into your cunt again, but ultimately pulling away immediately.

He repeats the action, over and over again, pushing into you the tiniest amount, enough to slightly stretch you open on him and then pulling away before you get any kind of satisfaction. Moans spill from him every now and again, both from your pussy leaking on his cock and the way his hand moves up and down his shaft.

His resolve seems impeccable for a man who almost came in his pants while eating you out, he continues teasing you, never indulging you. He wants to hear you beg for him; his skin is burning for it.

You’re close to tears now, needing to feel him, your eyebrows are pinched together, “Kung Lao, please.”

“What was that?” His eyes look to yours.

You whine slightly as you say, “I need you… please.” Your eyes are large and pleading.

His reaction to your expression and pleas, is a large victorious smile, “That is all you had to say, babe.”

Finally, he slowly starts pushing into you, properly this time. Inch by delicious inch, he presses into you, filling you completely. Large and heavy inside you, your cunt throbbing around him at the feeling of finally being full. When he’s sheathed completely inside, pelvis pressed to yours, you both moan loudly.

“Gods, I might cum like this – hah – why didn’t you beg sooner,” he complains, leaning down so his skin is resting on yours, holding his weight up with his forearms.

You feel speechless, so full of him, your cunt pulsing around him. When he leans down to you, you wrap your legs around his waist, hooking them behind him. The shift causes him to slip deeper and he whimpers in response.

You clench around him at the sound, and he grunts, he pulls out of you abruptly and it makes you gasp first before whining at the loss of him.

“Wait – wait, what are you doing,” you whine at him, confused.

He’s holding the base of his cock as it twitches in his hand, “I almost –fuck– I almost came,” he curses, trying to control himself.

You go to whinge at him some more, but he stops you, “Need you to be quiet for a moment.” He asserts, worried your begging will push him over the edge very suddenly.

Complying, you wait a moment for him, and when he’s ready he pushes into you again, filling you perfectly. You wrap your legs around him when he’s pressed to you completely. He’s resting on his forearms again, framing your face and gazing at you.

“I thought you were supposed to be some kind of expert,” you say, teasing him a little.

He huffs at you, before nosing at the side of your face, “I am, but you have a divine pussy.” The compliment goes straight to your core, and you clench around him, he groans at you, “Like being praised huh?”

He draws his hips away from you, starting to fuck into you, his initial pace attempting to be gentle. He’s so big and he’s pressing up against places inside you that have never been touched, it makes you whimper and whine. The sounds are embarrassing to you and as you go to cover your mouth, Kung Lao’s hands grab onto both your wrists, pinning them to the bed.

“I want to hear how well I fuck you,” he whispers into your ear, the words send a shiver down your spine.

The pace he set changes into a fast and desperate one, fucking into you harshly and quickly. He looks down to where he’s fucking into you, groaning at the way you take him so well, he looks back to you. Wanting to see your expression. The way he’s fucking you makes your head spin, your eyes glaze over as you look up at him, his face is concentrated as he focuses on his pace.

You think he looks stunning like this, slightly fucked out and desperate as he fucks into you over and over again.

He catches the look in your eyes, “Looking at me with heart eyes, babe. What’s wrong?” He lets go of one of your wrists to hold the side of your face, “Dick so good you’re falling for me?”

If you weren’t so lost, if you didn’t feel so good right now, you’d bite back, say something teasing in nature but as he bullies his way into your cunt over and over again. You can’t help but mindlessly agree, nodding at him in response, hoping he’ll fuck you over the edge.

He relishes in your response, and he smiles at you before leaning down and kissing you. His tongue searching your mouth, making you even more breathless than his cock.

Pulling back, he watches the way you’re writhing and moaning under him, it has him right on the edge, barely fighting off his own orgasm. Only holding out by the skin of his teeth, refusing to cum before you do.

His thrusts become rougher, his pelvis grinds into your clit each time he re-enters you and it makes you flutter around him.

“You’re so close –ngh– I can feel it, cum all over me, babe.” He groans at you, “Mm the way your tight pussy is choking my dick has me right on the edge, –hah– feels so good,” he leans down to your ear, “Been doing such a good job, got the best cunt I’ve ever been in.”

All the praise he showers you with has you cumming without warning, your cunt clenching tightly around him. You moan out his name, whimpers exiting you, the force of your orgasm has you forgetting to be embarrassed. Too caught up in how good it feels to cum around him.

He moans at the feeling of you pulsing around him, his dick jerking, your own release triggers his very quickly. He rushes to pull out of you, but you lock your legs around him and hold him tight, wanting him to cum inside you.

As he realises your intent he keels over slightly, grinding his pelvis into you, filling you up with his release and riding out both your highs. His groans trail off into whimpers as he grows sensitive, but he doesn’t stop grinding into you, enjoying the way your pussy twitches around him too much.

You’re off in the clouds, not comprehending much of what’s happening around you, not until Kung Lao presses kisses to your lips, slowly coaxing your attention back to him. When you feel a little more tethered to Earth you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back properly. He smiles into the kiss, pulling back from you and then pressing a final peck to your cheek.

He carefully pulls out of you, gaze watching his cum leak out of you and onto the bed, his eyes are alight as he watches your cunt pulse. Your legs kick him away, as much as they can anyways, you’re a little shaky and sore.

He chuckles at you but flops down onto the mattress next to you, turning to his side so he can look over you.

“So?” He asks, wanting to hear you say how good he knows he was.

You pout up at the ceiling, “So, what?”

“Come on, I know I was the best you ever had,” he pokes your side.

You turn to him, “I’ve only ever slept with one other person.”

“Whatever…” he looks into your eyes, “You’re the best I have ever had,” he tells you, reaching out to tug you closer to him.

You’re resting on your side now, held against him. His confession makes your heart soar because unlike you, he has had his fair share of sexual encounters.

“You are the best I have had,” you admit, even though you’d actively have to try to be worse than the last guy.

“Yes, I knew it,” he’s celebrating his win, you can practically feel the room get smaller with his growing ego.

“So far,” you tease.

“What?” He makes you look at him, “I’m it now, babe.”

You’re a little wordless, “What?”

“I’m it, if you need dick from now on, you come to me,” he asserts, “So delete that guys number.”

“And you?” You ask him.

He looks at you questioningly, “You kidding? Why would I want anyone else?”

His words make you melt, you don’t know what this is, if it’s a friends with benefits situation or something more but either way, you like it.

“I’ll delete his number if you play scrabble with me,” you smile mischievously at him.

He flops onto his back and groans dramatically at you, “Fine.”

Moving closer to him, you kiss his cheek, and it makes him blush. Yeah, you like whatever this is.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

A/N: Thank you for reading it all !!! This took me a bit to finish but I am happy with it. I struggled most with the truth or dare scene and making things flow but in the end it’s a made up scenario and we all wanna fuck Kung Lao so 🤷‍♀️ 🤷‍♀️ Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed it <333 As per usual, if you have any requests, feelings, thoughts, questions, please don’t hesitate to reach out !!! I love you all <33 For the scrabble game, cwm isn't a misspell on my part, there is a legitimate scrabble word spelt cwm and is defined as: a steep-walled semicircular basin in a mountain; may contain a lake Ax is also just a variation on the usual spelling of axe and I think that is dumb, I like scrabble and think these two words would irk me, especially if I lost because of them lmao

#mk1 smut #mk1 2023 #smut #fanfic #kung lao x reader #kung lao x reader smut #kung lao #kung lao smut #kung lao x you #kung lao x you smut

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002yb · 19 days

Note

If you're fine with it, can we have Jason distracted staring at Dick's back dimples while Tim tries to talk to him about a case?

Tim being well aware that Jason isn't listening to him and knowing there's nothing to be done for it. Because for all intents and purposes, Jason is in another plane of existence. That plane being the one just over Tim's head.

That Dick happens to be standing just behind him is irrelevant, surely. Totally coincidental. (눈_눈)

So there's Tim, trying to do his job. The job Jason requested Tim's assistance on, mind. Because it was important. And yet here Jason is now, being very much distracted by someone who is entirely unrelated to aforementioned important case/job.

Tim takes it in stride if only because it's not a surprise. Jason's crush on Dick isn't exactly a secret. As far as Tim's concerned, it's the only endearing thing about his menace of a brother.

There's something decidedly off about the attention Jason gives Dick this time though. There's nothing of the delicate, flustered maiden Tim is used to whenever Jason discreetly oogles and indulges in all that romantic whimsy of his–just a chilling intensity that has a shiver running up Tim's spine and anticipation making him wonder if he's missed something crucial.

So Tim observes as he rattles on about the case. He knows full well that he'll have to repeat everything later, but Jason's behavior is equal parts concerning and curious.

The way Jason goes from intently watching, neutral until his brows start to furrow and his lips pull down into a frown. A scowl. More and more pensive. Almost bristling.

Tim can't not look, so he casts a furtive glance over his shoulder, discreet and fleeting. And it's just Dick there. Dressed down in the usual athleisure, faced away from them as he looks something over at the large projections of the Batcomputer.

There's nothing to it. It's how Dick always looks after patrol, comfortable in a pair of sweats and a compression shirt. Nothing Jason hasn't flustered over plenty of times before.

Tim still remembers the first time Jason saw Dick dressed down post-patrol. How Dick and Jason were walking past each other, but while Jason kept walking, his head turned to trail after Dick. And how Jason ran into a table, tripped over Damian, and nearly overheated when Dick offered him a hand up. The way Jason's gaze lingered on Dick's bicep, his shoulders as he was hefted up. The way he almost went back down from how bad he was blushing.

It's as Tim is contemplating if Dick did something to provoke Jason's ire that Jason finally makes his move. Disregarding everything Tim says to shove past him and storm across the way, hand reaching out--

And Tim knows that Jason isn't brazen enough to turn Dick around and kiss him or anything like that, but with how puffed up Jason is, who's to say?

Tim is. Because he knows Jason and Jason would fluster and abort and see himself right out of Gotham before confessing his undying, decade long crush.

Which is neither here nor there, because instead Jason just jabs Dick right in the dimple of his lower back. A poke that's a little too vicious to be flirtatious, even for Jason

And Dick's inhale is so sharp that everyone in the cave turns to look

And Tim's eyes widen because fuck, if he thought Jason's stare was chilling, the way Dick glares is cold and severe and... grouchy?

'You're hurt.' Jason goes on to say, unperturbed by the storm he's about to weather

Everyone in the family startling because what?? When? How severe? But also just...how could Jason tell?

And Dick scowls, caught out.

'I'm not hurt.'

Only he is, because Jason scowls and bites back, 'I saw it.'

Which has Dick reeling because how?? He's completely covered. He didn't change with anyone around.

And then it's Jason's turn to get all !!! because he seriously noticed just because of how Dick was standing and the way his back looked through his shirt and somehow Jason's exposed himself in such a terrible way that he just - goes offline. Back to that other plane of existence because well, shit.

The most belated and petulant of, 'it doesn't matter.' before Jason starts fretting

Which makes Dick soften up a bit, because Jason being so caring is such a darling thing. ;3;

And then Dick twists and pulls up his shirt enough to show that he's fine, just bruised and a little swollen.

Jason being such a maiden that he has to look away because just that is too much SOS.

Then they get lost in the chitchats and Tim is still just standing there with his report on a very important case, existing entirely outside of Jason's rose-colored bubble and oh, how Tim wants to pop it so bad lol

#dickjay #jaydick #jason's first love is dick grayson

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thirteenducks · 10 months

Text

rest for the weary

(neuvillette x fem!reader) [sfw]

༻❁༺ content: fem!reader (reader is referred to as 'girl'), no established relationship

༻❁༺ word count: ~1.9k

༻❁༺ tags: sickfic? sort of?, mild hurt/comfort, gentle and tender Neuvillette, being overworked, fainting, neuvillette is sexy in a paramedic kind of way, crimes against gloves, almost-crimes against pastries, "you will be taken care of So Help Me" neuvillette, very self indulgent, can you tell i'm a college student

༻❁༺ author’s note: blame my mutuals for putting talk about neuvillette being gentlemanly and kind on my twitter feed. this is their fault and also the four glasses of sangria i drank before i wrote this

Neuvillette would like to believe he understands human behavior quite well by now. What he does not understand is their tendency to be self-sacrificial to the point of exhaustion. When your stress reaches a fever pitch, he steps in.

You don’t remember if it was the fatigue or the hunger that you noticed first. Both have been on the fringes of your consciousness since you left your bed early this morning. Right now, they’re kept at bay only by a lingering headache that worsens as you step out into the clear day.

The beautiful azure of the morning sky above. The flocks of pigeons that dapple the steps of the Palais Mermonia like sunlight through leaves. The hum of the Court of Fontaine as coffee sales begin for the morning. All are lost on you as you forge ahead, feet barely clearing the cobblestone below them.

The papers on your desk, stacked high and demanding attention, are all that your bleary eyes register at the moment. Anything else is secondary.

As much as your conscience would contend it, your current predicament isn’t entirely your fault. Sure, you had procrastinated a bit when the pile of records was first assigned to you, and maybe hadn’t chipped away at it the way you could’ve if you planned ahead.

For a gestionnaire, though, it’s also just that time of year when the clouds pour rain daily and the opera house sees a never-ending rotation of cases.

So if that means some sacrifices on your side are required, you’re willing to make them for the good of the Court. You’re certainly not the only one, either. The circles under the Chief Justice’s eyes always grow darker during the rainy season; you hope he’s taking better care of himself than you are.

Once you’ve gotten rid of this batch of paperwork, you’ll be free to rest for a while, you tell yourself. You can take a break. Maybe you could walk to that cafe down the street with the nice cashier and get yourself breakfast, if the rain isn't too bad by midmorning.

Your knees waver under you as you carry the precarious stack of records to the threshold of your office. On second thought, maybe you should ask if they offer delivery.

The low murmur of a familiar voice, a pleasant bass melody, reaches you as you step out into the plush carpet of the hallway. It floats through your dizzy head like syrup.

Good. You won’t have to walk far to give these to Neuvillette, then. You’re not sure your feet would carry you all the way to his office anyway, and you’d rather not field any uncomfortable questions about your health from such an esteemed man.

Assuming what you hope is a pleasant expression, you approach the Iudex and Sedene as he bends at the waist to inspect a bump on her antler.

There’s a very becoming look of concern on his face, you notice. It must be nice to be the focus of such care.

The unfazed voice of a Melusine comes from somewhere below you: “I promise it’s just a mosquito bite, Monsieur. I must’ve stood around the docks for too long this morning.”

“Even so... I would administer some anti-inflammatory soon, Sedene. Please don’t neglect your health,” he chides as he pats her head affectionately.

Neuvillette rises again to his full height, catching your eye as you draw near to him.

A fetching smile upturns the corners of his mouth. He greets you with a stately nod, holding out his right hand for your stack of records. Your gaze flits to his other hand, currently engaged by an apple turnover.

Ah. A gift from a Melusine, no doubt. You hope he enjoys it, even if a part of your brain wants you to snatch it for yourself.

If Neuvillette catches the way your eyes linger on his breakfast, he doesn’t mention it. What he does is quirk his head to the left in a silent question as he continues to stand with his hand outstretched.

Oh, archons. How long have you been standing in front of him with a blank look on your face? Too long to be appropriate, certainly.

Clearing your throat and forcing a smile, you take a step forward to hand off your pile of papers to him. Only, instead of making contact with the floor of the hallway, your shoe falls into thin air as your other knee buckles and your back falls towards the carpet.

As your consciousness slips, you feel a cool hand snake around your waist.

Your head goes limp, bouncing a bit with the impact until the pastry drops to the carpet and Neuvillette’s other gloved hand comes to cradle the back of your neck.

He’s caught you. He wishes you were awake to instruct him what to do next.

He lowers you to the ground softly, brow creased with worry. Sedene stands next to him with a similar expression, holding the turnover she saved as it fell.

“Sedene. Bring me a pillow from the sofa in my office, please. Quickly.”

The Melusine salutes and she darts off. His eyes never leave your face as he kneels, large frame bent over you protectively.

Releasing your waist, he brings a hand up to his teeth and tugs off the glove in a smooth motion before resting his bare fingers against your forehead. A curse in a tongue unknown to all but him breaks the quiet air and his brows knit together. Humans and their damned self-sacrificial nature.

Sedene returns holding a cushion. He eases it under your head with care, ensuring your neck is supported before he retracts the hand underneath.

There in the Palais hallway, the Iudex of Fontaine strips himself of his judge’s coat, uncaring of decorum at the moment. Gentle hands graze your bare skin as he wraps the garment around your shoulders. Were you conscious, you would feel the softness of the silk lining against your cheek and the scent of the ocean it carries with it.

He knows from his extensive observations of human behavior that you’ve probably only collapsed from fatigue, not sickness. And yet… and yet he cannot keep himself from stroking your forehead, cool fingertips resting there as he meditates.

Another moment passes before he makes up his mind. Your body rises from the carpeted hallway floor into strong arms, seldom-seen muscles flexing under his white undershirt.

The change in altitude brings you halfway out of your daze. Through hazy vision, you catch the sight of pale skin moving above you. His slit eyes meet yours and you don't manage more than a small sound of confusion before you’re pulled back under by sleep.

With a brief nod to Sedene, Neuvillette carries you to his office in a few quick strides. The door slides shut behind him.

Your hands unconsciously tug on his lapels and you curl your body closer to the warmth of his chest, making his ears burn.

Every time he thinks he understands your species, something like this happens.

He had certainly noticed your energy waning over the last few days, but he worried about the propriety of mentioning such a thing to you. Would you resent him for asking about something so personal? Should he send someone closer to you to step in before you hurt yourself?

In the end, he had settled for bringing you breakfast from a nearby cafe. He glances at the turnover, now sitting innocently on his coffee table courtesy of Sedene. It taunts him.

The silence in his office is deafening as Neuvillette lays you carefully on the sofa next to his desk. He runs through the list of human vitals in his head.

You’re breathing quite deeply. Your pulse is healthy and strong as his fingers press against the side of your throat. The color in your face is returning to its normal shade. Surely all you lack is a good meal, which he can certainly provide, and some rest.

Then why do his hands shake as he pours tea into a cup on the table before you?

Why can he not keep his eyes from you as you sleep, chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm?

Why does he find it impossible to return to the paperwork that calls his name just a few feet away?

A clap of thunder shakes the building.

He doesn’t realize how long his eyes have been trained on yours until you’re staring back at him through lowered lids, awakened by the noise.

It takes about a half second for you to remember the circumstances of a few minutes prior and gasp, sitting up with a speed that makes Neuvillette reach towards you in concern. His coat falls from where it was draped across you and you stare at it, unblinking.

Your gaze flits to Neuvillette, bare to the wrist. He watches silently as you register the sofa you’re laid upon and the lavish office around you.

The Chief Justice makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat when you rush to stand up, face burning. Your head spins - whether from fatigue or embarrassment, you’re not sure. A million apologies threaten to spill from your mouth at once.

With your head bowed and your feet unsteady below you, you don’t see the hand rising to your face until a cool sensation spreads over your flushed forehead. The surprise of it shuts you up immediately. When you do dare to raise your eyes, you hardly trust what you see in front of you.

There is no anger in the face of the Iudex, in the downturned curve of his mouth or the crease of his brow. Only tender concern presents itself as he addresses you.

“You appear to be feverish. Please, sit back down. I won’t have you fainting again if I can help it.” He removes his hand from your skin, leaving behind a burning sensation that you can't attribute to a fever.

“Mon- Monsieur?”

He tuts, raising the cup of tea to your hand and folding it into your grasp. “Drink, please,” he murmurs, face etched with care.

You blink a few times, sipping the drink as if compelled by magic. It's sweeter than you’re expecting.

“Good girl.”

You nearly choke on it.

If possible, Neuvillette looks even more distressed by your sudden coughing fit. “You’re far redder than when you awoke. The fever reducer in this blend should help with that, but in the meantime, please take some of this…”

The minutes pass quietly. Periodically, Neuvillette instructs you in a gentle tone to drink your tea or eat a bit of pastry. He absolutely forbids you to stand after the second time you attempt to excuse yourself.

When he's been assured that you're comfortable, he speaks again.

“May I ask why you believe those papers you were attempting to bring me were worth working yourself to exhaustion over?”

His words are authoritative, but his voice carries such softness that you can’t help but be honest with him.

“I’m so very sorry, Monsieur. It won’t happen again. I’ve just had a lot on my plate this week.”

Neuvillette's violet eyes are melancholy as they meet yours. “Of course. It’s a busy time of year for us all,” he says, shifting his gaze to the steady rain outside. “I do hope you know, however, that I would far rather your work be late than your health to fail on my account.”

You duck your head. “...I understand, Monsieur.”

The man’s stately expression fades into something unreadable at that.

“...Please, call me Neuvillette.”

You were unaware that his voice, so commanding in the courtroom, could sound so tender directed at you.

Your gaze darts up from the floor. The Iudex is not meeting your eyes. His are fixed instead on the light drizzle pattering the windowpane. A faint swathe of color decorates his lofty cheekbones.

As you smile and nod your head, pronouncing his name with a few words of thanks, the morning sun streams into the room behind you.

It’s getting to be quite the lovely day outside.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x fem!reader #fem!reader #:3c #this was fun to write and even more fun to see my beta readers react to #shout out to tender and honey btw love you guys #have i mentioned how much i love gentle men recently #if i haven't here's 2k words to remind you

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dailyreverie · 1 year

Text

Keep me warm

@flufftober - Day 12 Fire & ice

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 861

CW: Angst due to mentions of Bucky's past

Flufftober masterlist

If there was anything that you hated, was the thought of Bucky facing the cold. You knew how he played it off every time, always saying you are overreacting, but you knew him too well to know that his bones ached when the air got cold and that the chilly air against his face triggered memories he so desperately had tried to bury.

His mission had run longer than expected, he was supposed to be back hours ago and the temperature was dropping quickly, his phone was probably dead since he hadn’t made contact with you and you could only hope he was already on his way back - he had to be. Still, his unknown whereabouts were making you bite your nails as your gaze flickered from the TV to the door as your patience began to get thinner with every passing minute.

When the door unlocked and you got so much of a peak of his boots, you ran to him and dragged him inside, pulling him in a tight embrace where you felt the tension that had frozen his shoulders begin to disappear. “Hello to you too.” Bucky chuckled, watching you remove his gloves. His skin felt like ice, like the frost of a glass right before the liquid turned solid, like pressing your hands against a window when its cold outside.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Bucky said when you remained silent.

“That you are cold, that’s what I’m thinking.” You stayed firm, because you knew the minute you wavered around him, he would dismiss his own well-being. With his hand in yours you dragged him to the couch, maybe you didn’t have a fireplace but the nearby candles would have to work to warm him up.

“I’m oka-”

“Don’t say you are okay, I can feel you shaking.” You warned, looking into his eyes again. That’s when Bucky saw the concern. As you dragged candles close to his hands and rubbed his flesh hand in between yours, Bucky studied your caring moves that tried to bring some warmth back to him.

“Doll,” Bucky searched for your eyes, tipping his head to find them as they were busy looking at your hands. He called your name, and when you dropped his hands softly on the couch and averted your gaze to the side, he knew there was more to it. “Talk to me, please.” He urged.

“It’s ridiculous.” Your voice cracked.

“It’s not ridiculous if you are concerned about it.” He didn’t want to push you, but seeing you in such distress was making his stomach turn with worry.

“I just- I hate the idea of you being cold.” You confessed, your fingers fidgeting with each other as you did. “You were cold for a while.” Your voice was softer, not knowing Bucky’s reaction to your confession.

“I was cold for a while, baby. But not anymore, I promise.” His thumb tilted your chin up, the sadness in your eyes unexpectedly making him smile in pure adoration to you.

“I’ve seen you shaking at night when it gets cold, and the way your shoulder hurts too.” You tried pushing him away, suddenly feeling self-aware of the situation you had dragged yourself to.

“Oh, doll.” Bucky whispered, his heart filling with warmth when he saw where your anguish was coming from.

“I told you it was ridiculous.”

“Look at me,” You did as he said, reluctantly so. When you met his eyes you couldn’t stop your hands from cupping his face; your touch felt like fire, not the kind that burns you, but the kind that warms the wood on a fireplace and keeps a home cozy, the kind that ignites a fire inside Bucky every time he realizes time and time again how much you love him.

Turning his head sideways he kissed the palm of your hand, not breaking eye contact with you. “It’s true that I hate the cold, I’ve always hated it, but what you are saying is far from ridiculous.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin, and the affection in his eyes never left. He lingered like that for a second, holding the space between you for a couple of seconds. “No one had cared for me the way you do, baby. You keep me warm, and every day you help me feel a little bit less cold than the last.”

You felt your heart swell with love for the man before you. The candles flickered, casting warm, dancing shadows against his soft skin and around the room that now smelled like cinnamon and sugar.

He pressed his lips to yours, your fingertips traveling around his neck to keep him there, close to you with a kiss filled with gratitude and love; as your lips met his, you realized that this warmth, this love, was all you needed to banish the cold that had haunted Bucky for so long. You got lost in the kiss as it proved to make you both warm, Bucky taking no time to pull you under him to deepen the kiss, his hands exploring your body seeking the heat of your skin next to his.

🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#flufftober #flufftober2023 #day 12 #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #boyfriend!bucky #bucky barnes #soft bucky #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #boyfriend bucky

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writermask-0807 · 6 months

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vlad tepes dracula x reader {“love me soft, and love me slow.”}

A/N: im a puddle of goo for sad vlad and this is the product of that. ngl, im honestly actually proud of this fic and wow isn't that new?? (the world must be ending) anyways I hope yall enjoy!!

Warnings: ooc vlad, uhhh pining, sort of, and angst?? but with a happy ending (?), so dont worry! just my poor bby grieving ig (he deserves better 😭)

He doesn’t know how to say it.

It doesn’t matter how long he’s thought of it, how long the words have been lingering, just on the tip of his tongue, only half a kiss away from being confessed against your mouth, his fingers tangled in your hair- a raw, vulnerable permanence to whatever - whatever this is, whatever this he has with you.

He doesn’t dare to call it love, although it is what it is- love in the curve of your lips and the shine of your eyes; soft, tender love in the gentleness of your hands when you hold him, love, tender and soft in your brushing kisses and your pretty smiles, etched deep into the ancient floors and walls of his castle, a place warmed once more by your presence and your love, a place he can call home once more.

It’s love, and he’s sure the both of you know it is, but -

Vlad Tepes Dracula does not know how to tell you he loves you, and he’s not even sure if he wants to—and he doesn’t want to admit it, because then it will mean that it’s real, that this is actually happening—because he’s afraid. No amount of denying will take it back, not when the truth is so terrifyingly, blatantly obvious, a laughing mockery in his face.

Love has not been kind to him. He had loved Lisa, true and with all of his heart (or what was left anyway), and it had torn him apart, it had unraveled him at the seams and it had left him wounded and bleeding. It had left an empty, bloodied cavern in his chest, and it had bruised him black and blue with anger and grief. Love has not been kind to him, and yet here he is again, afraid of it and yet so deeply, desperately, pathetically in love anyway.

It’s almost laughable- how far the great Vlad Tepes Dracula, King of Vampires, has fallen from grace, but here he is, finding something suspiciously like happiness in that endearing way you laugh, in the way it makes your eyes crease at the corners like half-moons, your dimples curving.

Starlight gleams on your skin and the color of your eyes when you open them, lashes fluttering, feeling his gaze, and you’re so achingly beautiful like this—the midnight breeze in your hair, the moonlight shimmering on your skin, the gentle lilt of your laughter, and that soft, tender love in your eyes—and all he wants to do is cradle you close, hold you to his chest and tell you that the heart inside, as broken and black and withered as it is, beats for you and you only, and he longs for it so much that the very thought of anything else aches.

“Vlad, are you alright?” you ask, leaning in, concern in your frown as you peer searchingly at him, a delicate hand coming to cup his cheek; and this close he can smell the sweetness of your scent of lavender and cinnamon, see the galaxies of stars in your wide, beautiful eyes, feel the softness of your skin if he chooses to reach out.

And he does, curls an arm around your waist and steals a kiss, achingly tender and soft, reveling in the way you melt unthinkingly into it, into him - and he should really tell you to be careful, that he could hurt you - he’s selfish. Always has been, and with you around, he thinks he always will be.

“I’m fine, dearest. Just thinking.” He breathes into your hair, presses a kiss to your temple, cradling you close, and there must be some somber quality to his voice, or maybe it’s the mournful sigh that accompanies his words that does it, but he thinks you know, in that moment - he thinks you understand in the way you soften into his embrace, arms winding around his neck and pulling him closer—if even possible—into your warmth.

“It’s okay, you know. We’re gonna be okay.”

You murmur in his ear, leaving a soft kiss to the side of his jaw, before you tuck your head in the crook of his neck, and god, he loves you. He just can’t say it yet. And despite the tears that pearl in the corners of his eyes, he thinks that that’s okay. He’s bruised black and blue by a burnt out anger and resignation and grief, and he needs time to heal but you understand and it’s okay. There’s nothing more he can ask for, and while love hasn’t been kind to him, Vlad thinks another chance is worth it if it means having you in his arms like this again.

FIN-

#castlevania #vlad tepes dracula x reader #castlevania dracula #dracula x reader #reader x dracula #dracula x you #dracula x y/n #reader x vlad tepes dracula #vlad tepes dracula x you #vlad tepes dracula x y/n #castlevania x reader #angst (with happy ending)

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azullumi · 2 years

Text

wanderer and ayato — a family with them ☆彡

summary — family and children, how would they be as a parent and husband?

characters — wanderer and ayato (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship, familial relationships; headcanons

word count — 1348

a/n — this mainly focuses on what they're like around their children hahahahahah

WANDERER

Wanderer, however rough his personality is, actually shows himself getting along with children and being good at dealing with them, especially ones of his own blood, quite well. It was surprising actually, pleasantly surprising, him being able to get along with kids and having a soft spot for them was a fact you never knew but definitely needed to know.

Of course, it's not like he was immediately as accepting, unafraid, nor open as he is right as of the moment. He was once afraid, clueless, and anxious because he didn't want to end up accidentally hurting his child and it took him some time to overcome that, reassuring himself that children are not as fragile as he thinks.

After overcoming that fear of his, when he first held the hand of his child, he felt like breaking down and crying on his knees. When he first carried them in his arms, he held them gently yet filled with fear. How could a child be so small and soft? From then on, he was determined to protect and give the world to them.

If he has more than one (or multiple) child, he would try to treat them fairly and equally, he makes sure that no one is left out of anything or feeling like they're not being paid attention to. After all, he doesn't want them to experience the same things that he did. He knows how horrible it feels and he couldn't imagine having them go through that.

He would give them everything that they wish for but on certain conditions that they must pass or follow. He doesn't want them to become spoiled children who'll cry whenever they won't get something that they want as he doesn't like that. His conditions aren't that complex nor hard though.

"I'll give you that as long as you promise to always be a good child."

He’s protective. Not over or too much but he’s definitely protective as majority of the time he’s worried about their safety or them encountering any kind of danger so it causes him to become strict when the situation calls for it. Permissions will often be asked from him especially when it's about going somewhere quite far away.

“My friends invited me to hangout and play with them on the river."

"Honey, you have to ask your father for permission. You know that even if I'll allow you, he always has the last say."

Ultimately, he'll end up allowing them but someone has to accompany them and it's either you or him.

Although as time passes by and his children have grown, he becomes less strict and protective. Becoming a carefree father as he just lets his children do anything that they want as long as they know what they are doing and are responsible with their actions. However, he still enforces some rules on them like curfews so they don’t get overboard and carried away.

He has a playful side that he shows to his children, occasionally teasing them but then silently panicking if they would end up crying because he doesn't know how to deal with that. Probably told them that Santa isn't real

"(Name), they are crying."

"Did you make them cry again? I told you not to do that."

He always has time for his family, spending more than half of his day bonding and just being there for you and his children. He doesn’t wish to become an absent figure and wants to show that he’s always there not only for you but also for them also.

He never knows if he's being good enough for his children so thoughts often wander and linger inside his head, thinking and believing that he’s not a good father, however, his children think otherwise as they see him as the best father that they could have.

He's doing everything that he can to be the father that his children need and not be lacking towards them, through his own actions, words, and methods, he displays his affection and support for them in multiple ways.

KAMISATO AYATO

The pure definition of a loving, doting, and affectionate father. Overprotective and strict, especially if he has a daughter.

He tries to be sweet and understanding towards his children, giving them full support and showering them with love always. It's a given that he'll get along with his children easily knowing him and his personality.

He spoils them with gifts always and wouldn't hesitate in buying them what they ask for. He tries his best to make time for them and spend time with them, often finishing his duties early and immediately.

"I'm here."

"You're early, what about your duties?"

"I finished them, my love. Anyways, where are they?"

He'll support his children in whatever path they'll choose and go down on. They want to be an artist? Full support for them and he would even buy the materials that they need. If they even need someone to teach them, he'll hire a professional. A samurai? A blacksmith? A fisherman? Or anything in general, they'll have his full support. As long as it's not anything dangerous or just illegal.

He would take his family on vacations and places when they wish to unwind and just relax. They could go to Mondstadt, Liyue, Sumeru, or anywhere they wish as long as they can and as long as his duties and responsibilities as the head wouldn't get in the way.

However, in times of festivals wherein he's one of the organizers and handlers, he wouldn't be able to accompany you nor his children in walking around and having fun in the said event. Thus you're left explaining everything to your children.

"Will father not come with us?"

"Sadly, I don't think he'll be able to, sweetie. But who knows, he might be with us later. For now, let's just enjoy everything, okay? Your father has prepared everything here and we should appreciate it!"

On rare occasions, he'll actually show up last minute and accompany you all in walking around and at those scarce moments, you'll have these memories burned in your memories.

In contrast to his sweetness and loving side though, he's actually strict and overprotective. It can't be helped though as he's the head of the Kamisato Clan and people are often out for his throat. His child becoming involved in these dangers are inevitable so he has to be wary and careful everytime to avoid any catastrophe or tragedy from happening.

Usually, when they would go out, he would have people following them and protecting them from the dark as it would ease his mind since he can't be there for them in case something happens. Knowing that they're with the people he trusts just clears his worries.

He's also cautious and mistrustful around the people they are surrounded with, you will never know who's trustworthy or who's going to stab your back. Everyone is considered a threat especially towards his family.

He doesn't wish to put pressure on his own children and would wish for them to leave a life wherein they are able to reach and achieve their dreams. However, he does understand that someone has to be the heir of his position and will soon become head of the family. It's just some wishful thinking that his children could live a carefree life that he couldn't have.

"Will my children live a happy life?"

"I'm sure they will, they have a great father like you."

"What if I'm not?"

"Oh, you definitely are."

That doesn't mean that he's not happy right now, however. He has everything that he could ever wish for, a loving family of his with an amazing partner like you. He's leading a fulfilling and successful life so how could he ever be ungrateful? He only wishes for his children to live a life wherein they're happy also.

Overall, despite his busy schedule and everything, he tries to always be there for his children no matter what and he'll probably never know how thankful they are to have a father like him.

— navigation | masterlist

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azulsluver · 1 month

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𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧

tw/cw: bullying (bully!reader), verbal/physical abuse, stalking, graphic violence, obsessive behavior, breaking bones, unintentional emotional manipulation, noncon kissing.

summary: as a child, you refused to befriend josuke, bullying the poor boy who was smitten no matter what you did to him. until he’s grown tired of you turning him down, he can’t seem to take your rejection to heart anymore. he’ll gladly give you a hands on experience of how much you’ve hurted him over the years

When he would wave at you from across the room, waving with those pearly whites, it irked you.

He must’ve came back to haunt you of your wrong doings. Just when you came to a conclusion and accepting of the past, he lingers still. With Josuke’s popularity you expected him to use that as leverage to get some form of revenge from you, anything that’ll leave you scarred, looking over your shoulder while you scurry to class.

Paranoia eats you inside out, he’s so nice to you. Calling you by your first name and handing you pencils because you just so happen to have them missing each time.

The same boy, grown, yet annoying.

You noticed your friend group would slip away as they had excuses to leave. Some even moving schools, and many cutting off contact without a reason. You’d find yourself alone, not always, as Josuke managed to worm his way into your pathetic, failed relationships. There’s a feeling in your gut, watching as Josuke sat next to you in comfort that your best-friend had been sent to the hospital. Along the teary eyes, Josuke had a glint in his that caused you to shield your face away.

[☮︎] maybe it was fate •••

Higashikata Josuke. His name caused you to look up from your coloring, the teacher kneeled as they motion their hand towards you. A smile on their lips as Josuke nervously walks up to you. You find his weary expression funny.

Play nice they said. You can do that. Scooting to the side to let Josuke settle next to you, handing him your share of the crayons. He takes it with ease, the two of you in silence as you color. Not minding him scooting closer, just where your elbows touch.

At such a young age, you at first didn’t understand the concept of personal space. Your parents held you, kissed your cheek and walked you with their hands in yours. You loved the physical contact. So what bothered you when Josuke held yours? Was he too rough? Did he squeeze your fingers for too long or sweat so much? You find yourself pulling away from him, finding the words to say no. He can’t hug you, you don’t like it. No, he can’t kiss you just because he’s playing husband. You’d demand for a divorce and run away from baking the plastic cookies.

It felt good to voice your frustration. Josuke seemed to have listen after countless attempts, going with sulking from afar as you play with your other play dates. He wants you to play with him. Don’t find another husband or wife. He can be a good husband, so why do you avoid him after his sorries?

When your mother tucked you in for bed with a kiss on the cheek you couldn’t help but pull the covers to your mouth. Clutching onto your plushy that smelt like her perfume, her hand gently rub against your forehead as she leaves your door ajar. You think back to Josuke.

He follows. Too close, too far. Wherever, giving you his juice box or putting a bandaid on your knee. Wherever.

It’s bad to think, but what would work to chase him away. Dulling over mindlessly, you’re preoccupied with one thought; Josuke to leave you alone for good. Maybe your older friends would know.

The first thing you’ve done from the whispers that encouraged you to rip up the drawing he made for you. Dumping milk on his bag accidentally; it’s okay he tells you, it was an accident after all. He’s happy you’re not hurt!

You shoved him a little too hard. His elbows got scrapped from the concrete bellow as your friends laugh, but you don’t laugh. Your cheeks are flushed, angry, embarrassed. Josuke took your first kiss. Mommy told you to save your first kiss for someone you’ll get married to one day. Your lips burn for the amount of times you tried rubbing it with the back of your sleeve. Josuke apologizes, but he can’t seem to get the words out of his mouth before he’s crying in his hands. That was the first time the teacher called your parents. You’re a good kid. Josuke is too. But the other students tell the teacher how mean you are to Josuke, and besides, he’s just a boy.

[☮︎] doing whatever it takes •••

Burn his books. Discard his hard earned sneakers. Lock him in bathrooms. Dump his lunch in the gardens. Flick nails his way. Bold, hungry for release, to shake Josuke off. To find yourself with your foot on his shoulder, pushing him further down as he apologizes for upsetting you.

You’re disgusted with yourself, disgusted at him for allowing this to further continue. Did he enjoy the back of your hand against his face, nails that dig itself in his arms to push him away from getting any closer?

You tried everything that would make him lose interest in you, make him hate you and see how bothersome he was. As usual, Josuke trails behind. Recalling a time during events where parents joined to see how well their kids were doing, Josuke’s mom was like an angel compared to him. You almost felt bad, Josuke lied for you—the times you asked him to meet up at parks in dangerous parts of the town.

She talked so highly of you, thanking you for watching over her son. You had the urge to yell at him, and her for feeding into his delusions as he gave you the tightest of hugs. They’re watching, and you didn’t have the nerve to push him off.

Josuke’s hugs hurt, you can tell he’s holding it back. You’re unsure why you let him stick around longer than usual, pity for his mother caused you to soften perhaps…. Things began to settle slowly, the tidal waves of your hate dwindled as you gave up. Not completely, never, not when he tells you ‘how happy you make him’ and along the lines of “I hate seeing you upset, you being happy makes me happy.”

[☮︎] karma favors him •••

“What sick fuck did this to you?”

Your friends single eye weakly looks up at you. Her head isn’t able to move, supported by various of bandages that cover her head to toe.

Hearing your voice made the heartbeat monitor pick up, resulting in you grabbing at her face gently to stop her from panicking. Her chest heaves up and down as small gurgling sounds leave her lips, casted arms shakily crawl up to your sleeve as her dry lips part and close like a fish gaping. It was painful to see her like this, it made you felt responsible.

“It’s Josuke. Isn’t it?”

Your left eye twitch as you groan to yourself, pressing your head towards their chest. Like yours, it beats, it’s fast and furious against your eardrums.

Should you feel angry at the moment? Confront him and report it to the police. But you doubt your friend would have the guts to confess, and who would believe you over sweet, kind Josuke?

[☮︎] it’s not your fault ••• you know that?

You don’t get into many fights. Ones that involve scratching and biting, that only occurred on a day during the seventh grade. Father’s Day. You put on your best outfit that day, your mother did your hair too. You clung onto your father as he shakes hands with other parents, refusing to make eye contact with Josuke who came with his mother instead. You never really asked him about his father. Your father encouraged you to play as the adults discuss about things. Faintly hearing the praise of Miss Higashikata for coming, for being such an upstanding mother and filling that role for Josuke.

Influence is a strong force to be reckoned with, you felt powerful being with your friends as you corner Josuke.

“Josuke has no father, how does he become a man?”

“He doesn’t, he’s just a sissy like his mama.”

You don’t say anything. There’s a lot you want to say, but now wasn’t the time. You want to relish in this moment, watch him look for you for help like he always did.

“I’m not a sissy! Don’t talk bad about my mother, she’s better than all of yours.” The doors are locked. Who locked it?

You’re getting riled up just by being there, fists clenched by your sides when Josuke pushes past the others to reach for you.

“Tell them, [Name]! I told my mother about you, she told me we’d marry one day!”

Your friends laugh again. It’s taunting, it’s hurting your head as you glare at him. Marry? Did he think he had a chance, with you? The word itself makes you bold, grabbing the collar of his shirt as you point a finger at his nose daringly.

“Who said I’m marrying you? I wouldn’t wanna marry a fucking loser with that hairstyle, you’re so gullible if you think I’d say yes!”

Your neck nearly snaps to the other side. A series of gasps and screams echo through your brain, confused, yet you bring your head against his. His pompadour isn’t safe as the both of you smash into one another. Josuke’s nails claw at your cheek, grabbing onto you as he slams you against the wall nearby, with furious kicks to his stomach you both put up a fight for control. You bite onto his hand when he tries to cover your mouth, he doesn’t flinch but tightens his hold on you.

Your friends have already left the room, yelling and running down the halls in hope a grown up was around.

“Don’t say that! Don’t say that, you don’t mean it, say you don’t mean it [Name]!! I love you, please, I don’t want to hurt you!”

He cries out. Crying, crying, crying. You grit your teeth against his hand as you deeply inhale. Your mouth taste funny, not knowing you but through flesh to draw blood as you punch him on his cheek. Your hair, ruffled as you gain the upper hand by biting harder. Josuke shrieks from the pain, falling on his back as you straddle him. Hit him. Again. Again. Again. It’s making your knuckles hurt. But you keep going. Even when he holds you closer by burying his head in your stomach.

“I hate you! I hate you, Higashikata! I never wanna see you again!!”

You repeat it like it’s the only thing you wanted to say, needed to say, you scream and kick when you’re pulled off of him. Flailing your arms and legs to be free. Frenzied, your pupils are blown wide after seeing Josuke curl up to his mother and the many of adults surrounding. You’re crying too. You don’t want to be a crybaby. But you sob louder when dragged away and into your own fathers arm.

[☮︎] confessions •••

The note inside your locker felt like a curse beginning to arise. It reeks of his cologne, heavy and musky of a scent you complimented on a man taking the bus. Ever since Josuke has worn it. There’s little chatter from behind you that has your clothes stick to your body like glue. Hesitating, before taking the note out of your locker to quickly skim through it; balcony, just you and him. Him.

You shouldn’t go, but your legs have a mind of its own. Each step up the stairs were like unlocking every waking moment with Josuke. Was he ready to seal it all? Push you off the balcony or confess once again. This time, you aren’t sure if you could reject him as usual.

Teeth clatter against one another, trying to sooth your nerves by running a hand behind your neck. The ends of your hair stand up straight now you realize you’re at your final destination. Shutting and opening your eyes, as if you didn’t open them quicker you feared Josuke would be in front of you, you’re so scared it’s stupid, facing your problem, it’s all coming down to this point as your fingers find the handles to the door and push open.

“I didn’t actually think you’d show up.”

His hands are in his pockets, leaning against the wall with an unreadable expression. The tone is playful, but being playful has to make your brows twitch, lips curl, anything, to look playful. Josuke doesn’t look playful even if he sounds like it. You don’t miss the way your voice cracks as you let out a nervous laugh.

“What’s it to you….. What do you want, Higashikata? I don’t got all day.”

That’s right. The graduation ceremony ended an hour ago. Friends and families are outside. But they’re not up here. He pushes himself off so effortlessly. The heel of his nice sneakers make your brain itch for how loud it is. Silent as he positions in front of you. That same, sickly smell of cologne slaps you right in the face.

“I’ve been thinking. You know. Us?” You frown. Narrowing your eyes as you take a step back for space. “I took what you said. I wasn’t being thoughtful. Always bothering you, and I wanted to tell you I’m sorry, [Name].”

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry. That you had to push me away. Throw my things in the lake, steal my money. Hell, what else was there?”

“Are you fucking with me?”

Your tongue gets stuck in your throat. Blanked out. But something feels wrong. The weight on your shoulders you’ve endured those many years burn heavily. An apology should’ve lifted it. But it doesn’t.

“I do feel horrible, honest! But, I can’t really let you walk away scotch free from this. You looked so comfortable, I want to be a part of that. Maybe that beating you gave me did something to my head, haha, I can’t…I can’t forgive you, [Name]. You reaaally hurt my feelings.”

Josuke grabs the side of your head without warning, choking on your own spit as your head slams against the door behind you. Your vision turns white for a split second before he grinds your head, the cold, metal door creaking under your weight. He pulls back before doing it again, you don’t get the chance to stop him as you panic.

“I think about it day and night. You were such a strong willed person, that’s what I like about you. You had a goal, dreams, and achievements, but it doesn’t seem all that fair.”

Josuke sighs, your hands snap to his wrist to tug him off. Warm blood trickles down your forehead and the right side of your cheek.

“It’s selfish. I try though, I really did, you deserve so much better. But does it excuse how I had to suffer. I would’ve liked it better if you just pretended it was all fine. I hoped one day, you would like me back. I did so much for you.”

He’s rambling. All the while his knuckles knock your breath away, you try to hold onto his collar to make a step forward. Cringing at the wet, cracked sound of your nose. Josuke shuts your mouth with his palm, thumb rubbing circles on your cheek as he shushes you with mockingly, so tenderly. The first thing your body could react was to bite down. Snagging on his flesh as blood makes its way to your lips and tongue. Josuke hisses, your foot knees him in the gut, it’s harder than you remembered.

He pulls away from you with a grunt, letting you break free, cradling your head in your palm to feel the wet liquid make a mess of your face. You hate him so much. You knew he wouldn’t change.

You snarled, messily rubbing your cracked nose. Busted lips and heavy eyes bore into Josuke as he pants, bringing his bitten hand closer to his face.

“Hah— y-you bit me again. Did you know? This was the same spot you had your teeth on before? You left a nasty mark.”

He jokes as if you were mere friends talking about the good old days. And it makes you worried. You keep trying to breathe in through your nose, the adrenaline you felt before is no longer there as you put a hand over your throat. It’s tight. Clawing at nothing, you fall to your knees as you struggle to open your mouth. Wheezing as if an animal had its jaws latched onto it. Josuke makes himself known by blowing a kick to the side of your face. You think a tooth broke.

“Hey, hey, pay attention to me will ya, I’m right here.”

You scream in pain, well, you tried to, his foot is on your chest as he pushes down. Your broken ribcage stabs at your organs, tears have finally made itself vulnerable as they coat your disgusting face. So much for looking presentable for today.

“Does that hurt, [Name]? I could make you feel better.” He’s kneeling in front of you, arms on his bended knees as he plays with your contuse lip. Smearing the blood further and into your mouth. “I always try to make you feel good. I wouldn’t do this but, since you think moving was a good idea I felt it was needed for a demonstration of my hard work. You get me?”

You don’t know if you could hear him right now. The pressure in your throat still present as you claw mercilessly at it. You blink a couple of times, gasping on your own blood as Josuke has his hands cupping your cheeks.

“C’mon babe, I need to hear the magic words. I promise it’ll help the pain, don’t you want to feel good right now?”

You feel so helpless. It’s embarrassing yet your eyes flutter back from the lack of oxygen. The weight is gone.

“Say it, please.”

“…hng..I- ugh—! I love y-you, Josuke…”

You don’t think it’s you. It doesn’t sound like it came from you. And you never think in all your life you would mutter those words to him. But he’s so gentle. Kissing you, soft, loving. You want to spit in his mouth, bite down on his tongue as it evades your mouth, but your body is unresponsive. You’re not even moving silly. But a presence, so warm, makes your aching body feel like you just soaked in the hottest bath in the world. Fighting back doesn’t even cross your mind anymore.

#yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jjba x reader #yandere josuke higashikata #yandere josuke higashikata x reader #reverse bullying is my drinking source #bully!au

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moonlight-prose · 11 months

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✧ STILL OF YOUR HAND ✧

a/n: i think this is the only fic i've struggled to title all kinktober. it took me thirty minutes to figure it out, but i can always count on hozier to help me out. so this is messy. honestly it was written in a 4am haze of simply wanting to finish, and i never read it back. so i have no idea if it's okay. but either way enjoy my loves.

day twenty-three - restraints | kinktober 2023

summary: "din was always scared he would hurt you. always tentative to give into your desires of being taken apart roughly, because he was a gentle person when it came to you. his life revolved around violence, yet when it came to this—you—he was anything but that."

word count: 1.9k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, restraints, rough sex, p in v sex, din fucks, dirty talk, yet another man who runs his mouth but we love him, dom!din, yearning, no editing cause it was 4am and i lost part of my sanity.

Two weeks ago you’d proposed the offer to him in the middle of sharing a meal. He was in the middle of hunting a bounty; a way to pick up some extra credits while you traveled. The question wasn’t scandalous. At least to your standards it wasn’t. Yet there still lay some apprehension between the two of you about where you boundaries lay. How far you could truly go with one another when it came to sex.

Din was always scared he would hurt you. Always tentative to give into your desires of being taken apart roughly, because he was a gentle person when it came to you. His life revolved around violence, yet when it came to this—you—he was anything but that. And you thrived off it. You loved him and everything he gave you, but the prospect still remained, still continued to flicker in the back of both your minds.

“I want you to cuff me later tonight in bed,” you had said while drinking your caf. While the words came out simple, matter of fact and as if you were discussing the latest news of the galaxy. That’s not how he took them.

Din choked on his spit.

“Cyar'ika?”

You glanced at him over your mug, lips twisting up into a soft smile. “Yes?”

He was silent for a moment, body shifting where he stood and you wondered if he was hard beneath his suit. The question lingered in the air, waiting for a response, but Din was never one to outright tell you things. He was ever the silent man you met on Corellia a year ago. That didn’t seem to change as time went on. You simply learned to read him better.

“Din…”

“You know where the binders are,” he replied at last. His voice was rough through the modulator, body stiff and waiting. It seemed that your request had affected him more than you expected.

With a sharp intake of breath you nodded, slowly walking away from him and towards where he kept his weapons. The doors swung open with a loud creak, echoing in the ship like a fucking blaster bolt being shot off. Or perhaps that’s how you heard it in your head. You didn’t have much time to ponder over it, because there they were. Hanging neatly on the wall. An unassuming thing used on his hunts.

The same binders he had used on fugitives and criminals.

Suddenly the air felt thick with heat in the ship, your mouth dry and eyes dark with lust at the thought of him using them on you. There was always an understanding between you and Din. He liked control. Or at least most of it. Yet you always remained a part of the equation—always there to tell him what you wanted, what worked for you.

With these…you were officially out of the equation.

You felt your heart rate rise, excitement fluttering through your body. Grasping onto the cold metal, you ran your thumb over the slight design on the side. Merely bolts holding pieces of metal together, but the sight alone made your head spin. Digging your teeth into your bottom lip, you turned to head back towards the small cargo area.

Only to ram right into a very broad, very hard Mandalorian. With a soft yelp, you stumbled back, nearly landing into his weapon’s hold if it wasn’t for his hand shooting out to grasp your waist. Dragging him back to his body with a quiet grunt. The binders hung loosely in your hand as he cupped your face, tilting your head up to face his helmet. For a moment you swore you could feel the burn of his eyes on your skin.

“I found them,” you said softly, body humming beneath his touch.

His hand clasped around your wrist, removing the metal from your hold. “Turn around.”

“Am I your bounty Din?” you teased, sliding a hand up his beskar clad chest.

Only for him to whirl you around so quickly you barely had time to gasp in a sharp breath. His hand slammed against the button that shut the weapon’s hold, your body being pressed to the doors within moments. Your eyes fluttered shut, cheek rubbing against the cold metal as he reached for your wrists. The audible sound of the binders locking shut echoing in the small area.

His helmet pressed to the back of your head, a sigh leaving his modulator. “Cyar'ika. Is this…Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing yourself back against him—the outline of his cock pressing against your ass. “Maker, yes.”

He groaned, his hips pressing forward and grinding up into your body. “You want to be my bounty?”

“Fuck,” you breathed. The throbbing between your legs was growing by the second. Yet no matter how much you pressed your thighs together, you couldn’t appease it.

“Is that what this is?” His hands grasped at your pants, popping open the button before he tugged them down to your thighs. Dragging your already soaked through panties with them. “Maker you’re fucking soaked.”

His gloved fingers spread you from behind, taking in the sight of you dripping down your inner thighs. You shifted, whining softly as he took his time sliding his fingers through your slick. Coating the leather of his gloves thoroughly. He’d fuck himself with them later. Tasting what remained of you off the fabric, but for now he watched as his fingers found your clit. The sound you made was loud enough to echo off the walls.

“You wanted me to treat you like my bounty?”

You cried out softly, canting back onto his hand. “Yes. Fuck Din I do.”

His other hand reached up, gripping onto your hair and dragging your head back. The cold metal of his helmet pressed against your cheek, your breath no doubt fogging up the sides of it. But all you could focus on was the two fingers sinking into you, dragging along your walls. He growled when you grinded down onto his palm, a weak moan drifting to his ears, causing his cock to twitch.

“Dirty girl,” he groaned. “You need more don’t you?”

You nodded, teeth digging harshly into your lip until you tasted copper. You wanted to kiss him. To taste him, but this was all you would get for now. Later in the darkness of his cabin, he’d indulge in taking his helmet off. He’d kiss you as many times as you wanted.

For now you’d take this with open arms.

“Need me to fuck you.”

“Yes,” you whispered, your thighs trembling as he dragged his fingers out of you quickly. “Oh fuck. Din please—”

The sound of him fumbling with his pants silenced you, dragging a moan from your throat. You nearly crumpled against the wall when his cock slid through your folds, the head of it nudging at your clit. A high pitched whine came from you, hips dragging along the length of him and soaking him in your slick. But Din knew that this couldn’t end so quickly.

He grasped onto your hip, stilling your movements until you were pressed fully against the wall. The cold seeping through your clothes.

“You wanted this cyar'ika.” Lining himself up, he nearly lost it at the way your pussy fluttered around his tip. “Wanted me to fuck you like you’ve been running from me. Needed me to hunt you down.”

The words continued to spill free, unable to be reigned in and it nearly sent you over the edge from that alone. Din filling you in one smooth thrust brought you right there. A sob tore from your throat, knees giving out and if it wasn’t for his hold on your body, you would have hit the floor. He moaned brokenly, hips right against your ass and arm latching around your waist.

“Fucking perfect,” he spit, helmet digging into your shoulder blade. “Always feels so fucking good. Fucking made for me.”

“Din!” you mewled, hips canting back to get him to move and with a deep breath he finally gave in to your request.

The pace was ruthless. Quick and deep, each thrust shoving sounds you’d never made before from your chest. It was the opposite of every soft touch he’d given you. The bruising grip on your hip sent pain flickering through you, igniting the pleasure like a match to a flame. You felt your chest swell, head going hazy with the bliss that quickly filled you. And it just kept going.

He fucked you hard. Grinding his hips up with each forceful thrust, until he heard it. The squelch of your slick echoing in the space. The audible slap of his balls against your clit mixing with it. He felt his body fry—the strings that usually kept his sanity together now fraying to their breaking point.

“Can you feel me?” he asked, sliding a hand around to your pelvis, pressing down right above your mound and as if you were electrified, pleasure rocketed up your spine. “I’m so fucking deep inside of you.”

“Oh—fuck—”

Tugging your head back to his shoulder, he placed his slick covered fingers at your lips. “Suck.”

And you did without question. You took his fingers with a happy hum, sucking them into your mouth as if they were his cock. Your taste burst across your tongue, heady and tangy. He groaned deep and guttural as his body began to grow taut, balls drawing up painfully, but if there’s one thing you understood about Din…you always came first.

In everything.

Ripping his fingers from your mouth and gasping at the string of saliva that connected him to you, he dropped them down your body. Sliding them along your clit with ease. A sob was wrenched from you, fingers digging down on his arm as he rammed into you with quick stunted thrusts. Shoving you towards the very edge.

One pinch of your clit between his fingers and a deep grind of his hips sent you flying. A cry of his name hitting his ears as you clamped down around his cock, soaking him as your body writhed in his hold.

“Fuck yes,” he hissed.

Grinding up into you, he felt the white hot burn of his release rush through his body. He cried out against your shoulder, pressing his body against you completely. You were shoved up against the wall with nowhere to go, but you had never felt so safe. So content to remain right where you were. He came down with a sharp gasp, the last of his cum spilling into you, sending a warmth through your body that elicited a soft moan from your lips.

“You never answered me,” you slurred, body lax against the wall.

He huffed, hands sliding along your hips—soothing the places he’d held you too hard. “No.”

“No?”

“Don’t pout,” he replied, pulling from you with a rough breath.

You grinned, letting him collect you in his arms. “‘M not pouting. Just thought you wanted me to be your bounty.”

“You’re more than that,” he murmured, hand pressing against your stomach gently. “You always have been.”

Giggling, you felt the high of your orgasm begin to fade slightly, bringing you back to reality. “You say that as if I wasn’t your bounty once.”

“Cyar'ika.” The warning was clear in his voice, tingeing with something you never touched on, but the box had been opened.

You simply turned slowly in his hold and placed a kiss on his chest. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you never took me in?”

He muttered under his breath, but still held you close. You’d have to ask him about it later, but for now you let it go. Accepting his soft response of me too as a final answer to something bigger.

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin smut #din djarin #the mandalorian fic #my writing #kinktober 2023 #pedrostories

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