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blkgirlcafe · 4 years

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Professor Nasty

Professor! Florian Munteanu x Black! Reader

Warning: Public sex, unprotected sex, cheating, undefined age gap, dirty talking, slight degrading.

I keep my description of the reader pretty vague, make her how you want, but she black fosho. I am trying to get better at writing from a Y/N perspective, so any constructive criticism is welcomed.

Thank you @dersha98 for the inspiration and the ending. Thank you love!

University of Munich

Y/N tried to keep her eyes on the slides but it was nearly impossible. She never believed the hot professor stereotype until now.

Somehow she had gotten her dates mixed up and ended up registering for classes late. Which means all the good electives were taken. Y/N had gotten stuck with the two worst electives one could think of and she was sure to be in for a boring ass time. Public speaking and Romanian literature.

Public speaking was the worst to Y/N, because well it was public speaking. Every other week she was giving a speech, standing in front of a class of 30. It was nerve racking and she always needed a break after that class.

Romanian literature on the other hand surprised her. The professor was gorgeous, a man if she ever saw one.

Talk and built like a brick wall that she would happily run into. She sat up front, eyes tracing his each movement.

“So reports are due, please pass them up.”

Y/N pulled out the report that she put together less than 4 hours ago after reading the spark notes online. She hadn’t read most of the book, getting bored within the first 4 chapters.

Everyone knew that professors didn’t read these things, just grazed over and did a length check.

She quickly passed it forward and began to pack her stuff, last class of the day. Y/N couldn’t wait to get home and watch Netflix.

1 week later

A big bright red F was stamped on her paper. Not even a C or D. This would tank her grade in the class which would tank her GPA.

Y/N waited until the class was empty before approving Mr. Munteanu

Up close he was even more impressive of a man. He was solid built and smelled like mint and firewood. She liked it.

He didn’t even get her a chance to talk, “Your grade is your grade, stop staring off into space and maybe it could have been better.”

Y/N was shocked not expecting that out of the normally quiet professor.

“I’m sorry Mr. Munteanu, the book was just really hard for me to get into. Can I try another book? Please?”

Y/N tried her puppy eyes on him, hoping it would work like it would on her boyfriend.

“Read the whole book, cover to cover and instead of a 2 page report, I want 4. The highest you can get is a B.”

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir.”

The way he licked his lips made her look away, something inside her heating up at the thought of his tongue.

“When is it due?” She finally asked.

“I’ll give you a week, and Y/N don’t tell anyone. I don’t normally let students make up work.”

“I won’t, thanks again Mr. Munteanu.”

Y/N declined an invite to drinks, and lowkey ghosted her boyfriend to finish the paper. Once she got past the first 4 chapters the book was actually good. Lots of drama and sex which she wasn’t expecting.

She easily typed out a report after and printed it out. Excited to hand it back to him after class.

Y/N waited silently as Mr. Munteanu read her paper. His tall frame was casually leaned against the desk at the front of the auditorium. She fidgeted in her seat. Having him read it in front of her was nerve racking.

The paper dipped below his lips and Y/N found herself staring at his lips and how pink they were, wondering if they tasted as good as they looked.

“Miss Y/N, Y/N!”

Y/N snapped out her daydream, “Yes Sir.”

“I asked what is your favorite part of the book?”

Y/N chewed her lips, wondering if she should tell the truth. The book had a few steamy sex scenes and they were explained in graphic detail.

Y/N kind of shrugged, not wanting to answer him.

“Use your voice young lady.” His voice was stern, making her clench her thighs.

“The sex scenes Sir, they were just so real.”

One eyebrow shot up on his face.

Y/N felt her heart speed up, this was not a conversation she was prepared to have with him.

“Come here Miss Y/N.”

On shaky legs she made her way to where he was standing, he picked the book up off the desk and handed it to her.

“Show me your favorite part.”

Y/N flipped through the book she was handed. For some reason her hands were shaking, she found the part.

“This is it.” Y/N squeaked out.

“Read it Miss Y/N.”

Y/N gulped, praying her voice did not fail her, “ His soft touch sent flutters through her body, this is what it felt like to be touched by a man. An experienced man…”

Mr. Munteanu wrapped a large hand around her hip, Y/N gasped.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes...please.”

Y/N cursed herself, already begging. Mr. Munteanu stood and Y/N felt surrounded by him, he towered over her, his scent engulfed her. Y/N tilted her face up, to look at him.

“Tell me you want this.” he barely whispered.

“I want this sir.”

Mr. Munteanu crashed his lips on hers, kissing her aggressively. Y/N kissed him back, biting back a moan as he grabbed her ass. She needed more, wanted more.

“Please Sir…” she broke the kiss.

“Please what sweetheart.”

Y/N wasnt sure what to ask, fuck my brains out sir, use me like a toy sir, do anything you want. The pad of this thumb traveled from her hip to her neck where he gently squeezed getting a moan out of Y/N.

“Don't make me ask twice.”

“Please fuck me Sir.”

Mr. Munteanu growled as his other hand yanked at her jeans, not even bothering to unbutton them, pulling them down.

Cold air hit Y/N wet pussy lips she was absolutely drenched from the little he had done. What happened next happened so quickly, Y/N head was still swirling. She was face down on the hard wooden desk, Mr. Munteanu running a thick digit up and down her slit. The clink of a belt was all that could be heard over both of their hard breathing.

“Fuck I wish I had more time.” his thick accent broke her out her spell.

“Please...I need you.” Once again begging like a whore to be fucked by an older man.

“Don't worry sweetheart, I am going to fuck you like a man should.”

His wet tip came in contact with her thigh as he guided the thick cock head towards her entrance. His pre cum mixed with her wetness as he pushed inside her, testing the limits of her walls.

A gasp left Y/N as his thickness filled her up, a painful stretch that quickly turned into pleasure. Mr. Munteanu pushed until their bodies were connected, Y/N walls fluttered around him, reacting to having such girth in them.

“Good girl, taking all of me.” he grunted.

Y/N moaned as he begin to fuck her, slow deep strokes that left her breathless. Y/N let out a loud fuck as he hit a particular spot.

“Have to be quiet for me baby, can't let them know what I am doing to you.”

“I cant...It feels so good...please more.” Y/N tried to bite her lip, to keep from getting too loud.

“You want them to know that you like older men, that you let me fuck and so quick.”

“Fuck Yes, please dont stop!”

“I'm not stopping until I flood that cunt.”

Mr. Munteanu lifted one of her legs, setting it on the desk, hitting even deeper on each stroke, a tingling that started in her core finally let go, Y/N toes curled as she had her first orgasm, breath hitched in her throat.

“Look at you, already cumming all over my dick. Imagine if I had you in a bed, the things I could do to you babygirl.”

Y/N head swam with the thoughts, the way he could use her body, she wanted that more than she wanted anything else right now.

“Does your boyfriend make you feel like this?”

He knows I have a boyfriend, Y/N though. Mr. Munteanu picked up the pace, slamming his hips into her.

“Tell me Y/N.” he said through clenched teeth.

“No Sir, you feel better.” Y/N cried out.

Y/N was being fucked so hard she swore the desk was moving, not that she cared, her second orgasm was sneaking up on her.

Moans, skin slapping and the occasional grunt filled the empty auditorium. Mr. Munteanu pulled out, flipping her over before laying her back on the desk. All Y/N could see was him and his extremely chiseled chest. Her ass was pulled to the edge of the desk, her ankles by his ears, thick dick at her wet entrance. Y/N fist clenched around nothing, riding out her second orgasm.

“Fuck, I am about to…” Mr. Munteanu never finished.

He flooded her unprotected pussy, something she didn't even let her boyfriend do. He kissed her legs and thighs as he pulled her legs down.

“I need more.” was the last thing he said as she rushed to put her pants back on and scurry out the door.

Y/N rushed across campus, she felt like everyone knew what just had happened, she felt like everyone knew that her professor cum was staining her panties. She made it to her boyfriend's apartment, praying he was not there, still at the gym, or at the pub with friends.

The whole way up all she could think was, I just had sex with Mr. Munteanu! In the same class that he taught me in. Y/N was going to have to stare at that desk for the rest of the semester. She got to his apartment and mentally cursed herself, she could hear him on the game already.

“Babe! Where have you been?” He asked her.

“I had to turn in that paper and he had me stay while he read it.” Y/N tried to quickly get down the hallway but Fynn wouldn't stop talking. Any other time he would be so engrossed in the game she could walk around stark naked and he wouldn't notice.

“I waited on you for dinner though, I am hungry babe.” he whined.

“Let me take a quick shower and I'll order your favorite.”

She should feel guilty that her boyfriend was waiting for her to return while she was having the best sexual experience of her life on a desk, with her professor, who was also her boyfriend professor. But all she could think about was two orgasms in less than ten minutes.

“Why are you walking funny baby?”

Y/N froze in her place, she just got fucked with the biggest dick she ever saw.

“Sprained my ankle earlier in heels, I need to put it up.”

Y/N quickly faked limped to the bathroom, turning the water up super high. She set her phone on the counter noticing a text from an unknown number.

Be free Friday evening -Flo

#florian munteanu #Florian Munteanu x reader #Florian Munteanu x black! reader #Florian Munteanu smut #black reader #smuttywriter #Creed #Black writers

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gayaristocrat · 3 years

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I Got Everything I wanted...

Episode 1: Filmed Before a Live Studio Audience...

Pairing: Vision x Male Reader

Taglist: N/A

‼️Authors Note‼️: I'm finally at a point where I can write this story. I know that It is long overdue, so I hope this can make up for it. This story is going to be breaking the 4th wall a lot since they tend to do that in the actual show. Also, please let me know in my Inbox/Askbox if you would like to be tagged every time I upload a story to this series. While reading this, you may realize that it seems rushed, and that's because it was. I wanted to put this out as soon as I possibly could. Also since you guys voted that I just divide it up into parts for you to read. I will be uploading part 2 whenever I am able to.

Summary: (Male Name) and Vision struggle to conceal their powers during dinner with Vision's boss and his wife

Time Period: 1956 (So everything in this chapter is going to be colorless and in black and white)

Word count: 4k+

Word Key:

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Have you ever dreamed of living the life you always wanted? Have you ever dreamed of something so bad to the point where you would do anything to get it. Have you ever dreamed of something so bad to the point where all of your care for others went out the window? Have you ever dreamed of wanting something so bad to the point where you would stop anyone who gets in your way.

"(Male Name), I love you so much. Please don't do this, cant you see that everyone is hurting, that everyone is in so much pain?"

"I'm sorry Vision, but I can't. I can't loose you...not again. I never meant for things to be this way, but now I can't go back. Not without you"

---REWIND MANY EPISODES BACK---

For a second, everything is black. The TV clicks on and a burst of grey static illuminates the screen. Everything is black and white, not a single drop of color is in the area. A happily little tune starts playing as a colorless 1956 Buick Special drives up a tiny hill and back down past a sign which says 'Speed Limit 35'. The camera angle changes to the back of the car, showing a banner above the license plate, 'Just Married'. Next, the camera cuts to us, (Male Name) and Vision, newlywed husbands.

It finally happened, we finally got married! Both of us turn take a quick look and smile at each other with nothing but love and glee, it seemed like nothing could go wrong in this moment.

🎵Oh~

A newlywed couple just moved into town,

A regular husband and husband,🎵

Vision turns his head back to the road and continues driving until we turn down a happy little neighborhood. Each house on the street has a pattern of different color greys with black roofs, their yards decorated with equally bland colorless flowers and grass. Children playing outside, and adults chatting with one another while they tend to their gardens, or while walking their dogs. Everyone is just so cheery and happy, even the mailman waves at us as we pass him. Everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be, perfect.

🎵Who left the big city,

To find a quiet life,

(Male Name)Vision!🎵

Vision drives into the driveway of our new home. We quickly hop out of the car and approach the house, but before we walk in I take notice of the 'For Sale' sign still in the yard. I quickly flick my hand and use my magic to change the sign to 'Sold'. After that I dust my hands off with a proud smile on my face as Vision scoops me in his arms bridal style, opens the front door, and carries me inside. I flick my wrist again and the front door closes and locks as we both move to the Livingroom of our already decorated 2 story home.

🎵He's a magical boy,

In a small town locale

And a hubby who's part machine,

How will this duo fit in and pull through?🎵

Once Vision puts me back on my feet, we start swaying with the jingle playing in the background while title cards pop up of written words that I don't care to read right now since I'm too busy enjoying this happy moment with my new husband. Vision then gives me a little twirl before wrapping his arms around my waist as we both dip into a loving heartfelt kiss.

🎵Oh, by sharing a love,

Like you've never seen

(Male Name)Vision!🎵

---SCENE CHANGE---

The scene suddenly changes as the lights flick on and cameras start rolling. You start the scene off by walking into the kitchen and start making your way to one of the grey drawers next to the oven and you grab one of your favorite aprons. Humming a little tune, you wrap the white cloth around your waist and start observing the kitchen to see what needs to be picked up or cleaned. Deciding to work on putting up the dishes, you raise your hand and the newly cleaned plates start levitating off of the counters and float off to the display racks, you then raise your other hand and a dark colored dish cloth floats out of the cabinet and it begins drying a glass cup. You then turn your back to the cup to observe if it had been cleaned good enough, suddenly you jump as a loud crash echoes through out the kitchen. Turn to see what the problem is, you only to find Vision looking up from today's news paper and glances at the shattered plate at the ground while a laughing crown erupts out of nowhere.

"My husband and his flying saucers" He says in his thick English accent (or is it British🤔), with a joking tone.

"My husband and his indestructible head" I reply back in the same tone as another laugh erupts from the crowd.

He then folds his newspaper and walked over to your direction, giving you a kiss on the cheek when he arrived, causing you to chuckle while twirling your finger, making the plate form back to it's original round shape before it floats off to it's designated spot.

"Vision, honey, what do you say to silver dollar pancakes, crispy hash browns, bacon, eggs, freshly squeezed orang juice and black coffee?" You say while walking over to the refrigerator, opening it and bending down, getting ready to grab out everything needed to make the meal for him.

"I'd say 'Oh, I don't eat food' " He says smiling at me, while the crown laughs again.

You look inside the fridge and hum to yourself in surprise while putting all the pieces together in your head before saying "Well, that explains the empty refrigerator then"

"(Male Name), my darling. Is there something special about today?"

"Well, I know the apron is a bit much dear, but I'm doing my best to blend in and have the 'Perfect House Husband' look." You say walking to meet him, assuming he's talking about the apron.

"No no, you don't have to try, you already are the perfect house husband." He says as he lightly grabs your chin with his pointer finger and thumb and lightly giving you a 'boop' on the nose. "But I was referring to the calendar. Someone's drawn a heart right above today's date." You then looked at him as you cluelessly try to figure out what he's talking about, so he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you around to face the calendar behind you and he rests his chin on your head as you both look at the heart.

Trying to act like you know what day it is, you say "Well...d..dont tell me you've forgotten Vis?"

"Oh silly (y/n), I'm incapable of forgetfulness. I remember everything. That's not an exaggeration. In fact, I'm even incapable of exaggeration" He rambles boastfully.

"Hmm, well then if that's true, then maybe you can tell me what's so important about today's date"

He pauses for a second and thinks before he blows a slow puff of air out of his mouth, then deciding on saying "Uhhh...what was the question again? Oh well, no matter, perhaps you've forgotten yourself"

"Me? Heavens, no, haha. I've been so looking forward to it."

You both have actually been looking forward to day. Today you are celebrating...The first time you...uhhh...have ever celebrated this occasion before. It's a special day indeed, perhaps an evening?...of great significance?...to you both, naturally.. obviously...exactly! Well done for the both of you.

You two ramble on for a few more minutes trying to drill the other into spilling on what was so special about today, but you two couldn't since you were both obviously unknowing about it, then Vision remembered something.

"Well, sorry darling, that's me off to work, then." Vison says fixing his grey suit jacket and grabbing his suitcase walking to the front door. You quickly grab his hat hanging on the coat rack and place it on his head, fixing it to make it look straight.

"Also don't forget-"

"(Male Name), my dear how many times do I have to tell you I don't forg- oh you mean my face right?"

You nod letting him know that was what you were getting at. The audience laughs again as he quickly shakes his head and his face and hands transform from cold metal to warm flesh. Vision then puts his palm to his face and pretends to blow you a kiss, while you play along and pretend to catch it and put it over your heart.

Once he leaves out the door, you lock it a return to the kitchen, and make your way to the calendar, chewing on your polished nails (if you don't want nail polish then skip that part) as you try to remember the symbolism of the heart. Not even a second later your thoughts get interrupted as a loud knock at the door startles you back to 'reality'.

Going to go see who it is, you push the door that separates the living room and the kitchen, closer to the knocking. You quickly open the door and see a woman with a dark plaid dress and a styled black hairdo holding a grey plant in a white pot.

"Oh hello, dear. I'm Agnes, your neighbor to the right. My right, not yours" She says in a sing-song tone as she uninvitedly makes her way into the house. The eruption of cackles echo as you look at her in confusion as to why she decided to step inside, but decided to keep a calm attitude and not say anything about it.

"Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the block. My mother-in-law was in town...so I wasn't!" she says laughing with the audience once more as her dress sways with her movements. She rushes the potted plant into your arms and you smile and take it as she makes her way into the living room to continue her snooping. "So what's your name? Where are you from? And most importantly how's your bridge game, hon?" She says not loosing a single breath, and of course not giving you time to answer in between questions.

"Umm...Well I'm (Male Name)" You say reaching your hand out to shake hers

"(Male Name)? Charmed!" She joyfully says and returns the gesture.

"Golly, you sure do settle fast! Yes sir you did indeed! Did you use a moving company?"

"Why I sure did. Those boxes don't move themselves." The audience laughs as your inside joke, because let's be honest, the boxes did move themselves since you used your magic to decorate everything. (Damn (Male Name), you really are a powerful sum' bitch)

'"So (Male Name), what's a single boy like you doing rattling around this big house?" She says siting on the couch.

You laugh to yourself and dreamily look at the finger your ring should be on that Vision gave you to claim you as his, (He liked it so he put a ring on it.....sorry...anyways) but paused as it wasn't there. That's not right, because you could have sworn that it was there when you created this rea-

"Oh no, I'm not single I-"

"Well I don't see a ring

"Well I can promise you, I am indeed married...To a man. A human one and tall too! A a matter of fact, he'll be home later tonight for a special occasion just the two of us." You say putting emphasis on 'occasion' with a wink.

"Oh is it somebody's birthday? A holiday?" Agnes questions bouncing up and down in the couch with her legs crossed like a 'proper lady'.

"Well, no and no"

"An anniversary then?"

"Ye-uhh...yes, Its our anniversary!" You shout, finally able to remember what that heart meant.

Agnes waves you over to come sit on the couch with her and you obey, sitting down she grabs and rests both sets of you two's clasped hands on your apron.

"Sooo...tell me, how many years" She asks letting out a little squeal.

"Well..uhhh..it...it uh feels like we've always been together"

"You lucky man-" She shakes her head remembering about her own husband "-the only way Ralph would remember our anniversary is if there was a beer names June 2nd." She chuckles as the audience laughs from nowhere again. "So what do you have planned?"

"How do you mean?" You questioned her. I mean you never really did have time to come up with anything since you just realized, or assumed, what today was.

"For your special night, (Male Name)! A young boy like yourself doesn't have to do much, but it's still fun to set the scene. Say-" she says standing up to slowly make her way to the door "-I was just reading a crackerjack magazine article called 'How To Treat Your Husband To Keep Your Husband', and let me tell you somethin'...what Ralph could really use is, 'How to Goose Your Wife So You Don't Loose Your Your Wife'. She kidd's as her and the audience laugh. You look at her and shake your head trying to hold back your own laughter. "Hang on, I'll go grab it and we can start planning. Oh, this is gonna be a gas!" She shouts running to the door so she can leave and run to her house.

-----Time Skip---

Both Agnes and you are back on the couch, looking through her magazines trying to find ideas for the anniversary dinner you planned for you and Vision to share, when out of nowhere, the phone started ringing interrupting you two. You got up and rushed over to it hoping you don't miss the unknown caller, you pick it up and put it to your ear and then start talking.

"Vision residence how may I help you"

"(Male Name), darling I-"

"Vision, my dearest husband. How are you sweetheart?" You say cutting him off from his obviously panicked and frantic voice. I mean come on, you are just excited to hear your husband's voice after a hours of him being gone.

"Listen about tonight-"

You cut him off again, already knowing that he was going to talk about the anniversary. "Don't worry, dear, I have everything under complete control"

"Oh, well, that is a relief. I must confess, I'm really rather nervous" He says over the phone.

"Nervous? Whatever for?" You question.

"Well, you know, darling, I still get a little tongue-tied."

The audience coo's and aww's at how a dust of grey creeps up on your (dark grey/grey) cheeks. "Vis, after all this time..." you giggle out.

"There's a lot riding on this (Male Name)! If tonight doesn't go just so, I think this could be the end.

'Wait what' you think to yourself

"Well, it's just one night. There's no need to get dramatic." You say in a worried tone as you grasp your now queasy stomach.

Vision's tone begins to get more serious as the conversation continues in his attempt to express how important this is to you. "Look, I think the best course of action is to impress the wife."

"Well, first, I think you mean husband. And secondly I also think the best course of action is to impress the other husband too." You look over and give Agnes a thumbs up and a wink in her direction, and she does the same while sipping her martini.

"Glad to know we're both on the same page, love. Until tonight, then, my sweet little husband" Vision says making two smooching noises through the phone to you.

"Until tonight...my robotic husband" You return, whispering the last part so Agnes doesn't hear you. She couldn't hear you anyways, being too busy sipping her drink and flipping through the pages. You finally gently put the phone on the hook and return to the couch.

---Time Skip, Later Tonight---

Before Vision made it home, you set the big dining table that was next to the living room and tossed colorless silk scarfs on all of the laps in the room to set the mood and made your way to the bedroom to get dressed to surprise him for when he gets home. When you heard the door open and heard his voice, you tip toed your way out of the bedroom and into the living room, dressed a long fluffy white lingerie robe with white fur that wrapped around the arms of it which was trailing behind you, exposing both of your (dark grey/grey) legs. You then went all the way to Vision's black silhouette and gently wrapped your hands around his eyes, causing him to jump form the sudden contact.

The audience laughed again as they know your mistake. 'Where the hell is that laughing coming from, and whey is it happening right now of all times?' you thought to yourself in confusion.

"Guess who~" you seductively whispered to your husbands.

Suddenly the lights turn on and you hear Vision's voice that was filled with a mix of shock, embarrassment, and irritation at your recklessness. "(MALE NAME) WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

You gasp and look in his direction. "Vision? What are you-" then it hit's you, if Vision is right there, then who's-

"Oh! Oh my stars, I'm so sorry!" You say to the man you mistook for your husband. You quickly uncover his eyes and stumble away from him as he stares at you in shock. Then you look down at your attire and try to cover your exposed leg as much as possible.

"What is the meaning of this!" The bald headed mad says appalled, as his wife stands behind him looking around cluelessly.

Vision interrupts with his stammering voice just as confused as everyone else. "Well..uh yeah (Male Name) what is the meaning of-" Suddenly it hits him and he tries to comes up with an excuse off the top of his head. "-Oh, the meaning of it! You want to know the meaning of it...and...the meaning of it is...that this is the tradition of (Random Foreign Country/Continent) greeting of hospitality. Uhh...guess who???" Vision says as he runs behind you and overs your eyes.

"Oh is that my host being me?" You say playing along.

"It certainly is, darling. Lovely to make your acquaintance" Vision says vigorously shaking your hand. "See i forgot to tell you my husband is from (Random Foreign Country/Continent)" he giggles along with the audience.

"Oh, how exotic!" The man's wife cheerfully laughs.

"I never knew such a place as that existed" He says in a dark yet serious tone.

"Oh hush Author, have you no culture. Oh and the robe, I absolutely love it!" His wife replies trying to lighten up the awkward mood.

"Thank you so much ma'am-" you march through the living room and snatch off the silk scarves from all the lamps and tightly grab Vision's hand. "-Can I just see you in the kitchen for a moment, sweetheart?"

You both then slam your way through the kitchen door and it swings closed behind you, leaving Vision's boss and his wife behind as they sit down on the couch and patiently (more like impatiently on Arthur's end) wait for your return. You then turn around and look at each other before throwing questions.

"Who are those people?!"

"What are you wearing!?"

"Why are they here?"

"What are you wearing!?" Vision questions again boldly

"Well, it's out anniversary, that's why I'm wearing this!"

"Our anniversary of what?" Vison says, desperate to know what the hell you were talking about. Eventually you had enough of these shenanigan's and throw the scarves down at his feet stomping your way to the kitchen chairs. "Well if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!" you exaggerate, crossing your arms and pouting like a child

"(Male Name), darling! That...that man through there is my boss Mr. Hart! And his dear lady wife Mrs. Hart! The heart on the calendar was an abbreviation!" Vision whispers, roughly tapping his hand on the black heart drawn on the dull colored calendar.

You grab your head and shake it trying to put everything together. "Vision sweetie, you move at the speed of sound and I can make a pen float through the air. Who. Needs. To. Abbreviate!?"

Vision grabs both of your shoulders in an attempt to collect his thoughts and calm you down. "Darling, listen, it's all romantic to do the candles, the music, that stunning outfit. I don't wanna be unappreciative, but right now-"

"Your boss and his wife are expecting a home-cooked meal. Correct?" Vision nods his head while muttering 'exactly' while look around the kitchen in order to find somethin to serve to the unwarned visitation of guests. After looking around for a but, your eyes land on the mini round table that held a plate and food on it. "Well, does your boss and his wife have a hunger for a single chocolate-covered strawberry, split three ways?" Vision hisses while clenching his fists and shaking his head no.

"Oh wait, I might have better ideas" Without hesitation you raise both of your sands and snap your fingers, magically changing your outfit to the one you were wearing earlier that day, a pair of dark high waisted cuffed slacks and a white blouse to match (you can change if you don't like), and the audience claps in astonishment at your transformation whilst you tie your apron in a bow behind your back. Vision gives you a quick peck on the cheek and runs back to the living room to keep others company while you figure out what to serve everyone.

---Time Skip---

After minutes of looking, you couldn't find anything in the kitchen, and the refrigerator was empty, so you decided to call your good neighbor Agnes to see if she could pick up some things from the store and bring it over. A couple of minutes pass and you finally hear a familiar knock on the back door in the kitchen. As soon as you open it Agnes rushes through with her hands full of groceries stacked to her chin as she stumbles through the kitchen. Before you could even mutter out a 'thank you' she stops you dead in your tracks and puts all the food down on the table. "Before you can say anything don't think about it. I mean, what kind of housewife would I be if I didn't have a gourmet meal for four just lying about the place. Not that Ralph wants to eat anything other than baked beans, which explains a lot about his personal appeal, mind you." The audience laughs one more at her silly humor as you quickly render to her aid to grab some of the groceries before they could fall. Unfortunately, it seems like the Universe was not on your side since the large cooking pot crashed and hit the ground, echoing throughout the kitchen, while Agnes yelled out an overexaggerated 'oh my'.

You had to get rid of Agnes and as quickly as you can, so you decided to just push her out the back door despite her protests to help you cook. "Thank you so much Agnes but I can take it from here-"

"Are you sure dear, many hands make light work. And many mouths make good gossip too!"

"Oh ahahaha, you are so naughty! But-"

"Oh, shall I preheat the oven then? hmm?"

"That won't be necessary, thank you for your time!"

Somehow she managed to escape your grasp on her waist and make her way back to the counter to crab some kitchen tools to start cooking for you. "Well, I know you're in a pinch so this menu can be done in a snap." She says snapping her fingers before continuing her rambling. you run back over to her and snatch the utensils from her, setting them on the counter, and grabbing her arms to march her back to the door. "Lobster Thermidor with mini-minced turnovers to start. Chicken à la King with twice-cooked new potatoes for your second course, and Steak Diane with mint jellies for your main. Oh wait! Do you set your own jellies, dear?"

"Yes Agnes I do, now can you please-"

"Ah there you go, good boy! Recipe cards are all on the counter there. Bon Appétit!"

"Haha, yes will do, thank you so much again Agnes! Bye now!" You say slamming the door, making the audience laugh at your exhausted expression. Now that she's gone, you run to the middle of the kitchen and throw your arms around, making all of the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen fly open, the dishes start floating out, and the food starts cooking. Out of no where the doors to the island bar swoop open to show Mrs. Hart, but before she could see Vision distracts her by breaking out and singing Yackety Yack by The Coasters, causing her to break out into a little dance, making her way back to the couch. Dear gods and goddess', how lucky are you to have a savior like him.

But little did you know, that the night was only just beginning.

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Finish the fic? Leave a like and comment if you enjoyed it. Also, give it a reblog too! Once again, I'm so sorry it was rushed! Please don't be afraid to let me know if there are any typos or errors. I will go back and edit this

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relatable-trxsh · 4 years

Text

In Too Deep

Summary: Youre the new girl in the Lennox and Blue quickly takes a very special liking to you.

A/N: Hi! Sorry I suck at summarys I put a warning before the smut starts and when it ends. My requests are OPEN!

Warnings: S M U T 18+ , Soft Blue, Daddy kink, Male oral reciving, cursing, Name calling.

You scream as the two men drag you into the Lennox. You fight against them with every fiber of your being but they are much stronger than you. That didn’t stop you though, you kicked, scream, you threw your body in every direction praying they would somehow lose grip.

“Please let me go! I didn’t do anything wrong please!” Heads of the staff turned your way, some held a sympathetic gaze others scoffed. Finally, the men stopped walking but your pleas continued, that was until you heard a calm, slightly deep voice speak.

“Now now, there’s no reason to cry.” you look up just as a hand reaches over and wipes a tear from your face.

“Please I didn’t do anything wrong.” your pleas have quieted down as you look at the man before you.

“Unfortunately I have been told otherwise. What they are accusing you with cant be taken lightly, but you should be glad they sent you here and not some prison.” He moves his hand to your chin and lifts your head a little. “My name is Blue Jones, I run this place. Now come I will show you around, introduce you to the rest of the girls. He smiles and gives your chin a little squeeze before the guards return to their firm grip. As you walk you continuously try to fight out of their grip. Blue explains the rules until you reach a dance studio. There are girls lined up doing various stretches. “Vera this is Y/N, she is our newest patient.” She looks you up and down before nodding.

“I have a very strict set of rules girl. You follow them, do as your told and there will be no problems.” She spoke in a thick accent. You look at her saying nothing, only trying to fight your arms from the guard’s grip. Blue smirks and Vera sighs. “The quiet ones always cause trouble.”

“You should have seen the fight she gave the guards coming in.” Vere leans in close to your face.

“I don’t put up with nonsense, I am here to help you but I can’t do that if you fight against me understood?” you nod. “Good, I can take her from here. Go join the rest of the girls.” You silently walk and stand beside them. A girl with reddish hair looks at you with a smile.

“Hi I’m Rocket, this is my sister Sweet Pea, that’s Blondie, Baby Doll, and Amber.” You give them all a small wave.

“I’m Y/N” Sweet Pea looks at you and chuckles.

“She’s never gonna make it in here.” Rocket swats her sister’s shoulder.

“Hush, she must be terrified it’s her first day here.”

“Yeah well, it one gets worse from here so you better toughen up Buttercup.” Blondie smiles.

“I like that buttercup I think it suits her.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon practicing dancing, you didn’t fully understand why but the girls told you they would explain after chores.

You felt lost walking around the building, you were desperately trying to find the rooms where the beds were but somehow you ended up at Blues office. You knocked quietly, your heart rate picking up when you heard him sigh from the other side of the door.

“Come in.” You walked in quietly, staying in the doorway.

“I’m sorry to bother Mr.Jones but I’m lost. I was trying to find the room.” He quickly sits up.

“No no you aren’t bothering at all. Come in, close the door.” You nod and do what he says before walking further into the room, standing in front of his desk. “How have the other girls been treating you?” You bite your lips

“They have been very kind Mr.Jones, they even gave me a nickname. Buttercup.” He chuckles. Blue couldn’t lie, he loved the way his name sounded coming from your mouth. “But I do have a question Mr.Jones if that’s alright…” He nods sitting back in his chair, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Ask away buttercup” His voice sent shivers down your spine.

“Why does Dr. Gorski have us dance?” He seems a little taken back by your question but doesn’t hesitate.

“On the weekends we do something special, you girls earn me some extra money by putting on a show for some special people, and if those special people spit out some more cash they get a night of fun with one of you, sometimes two.” You were completely shocked by his words.

“You’re going to whore us out?” your words come out with a harsh edge. Blue stands up and walks over to you.

“You don’t get to judge me Y/N.” he grabs your jaw again and you can’t stop tears from welling up in your eyes front the harshness of his grip. “It’s all part of the game.”

“Sir” your voice is barely a whisper. “Blue please I cant…” You look down at the floor embarrassed, tears falling down your already pink cheeks.

“And why not? Look me in the eyes when you speak to me Y/N” you eyes reluctantly meet his again.

“I’m a virgin Mr.Jones” He couldn’t stop the smirk from falling on his lips, the vulnerability in your eyes excited him especially since it was a complete 180 from the way you were acting earlier.

“My my, sweet little Butter Cup a virgin.” He clicked his tongue and used his thumb to wipe away a tear from your cheek. “You know a lot of men would pay a pretty penny to fuck a virgin especially one as beautiful as you.” Your lip quivered at his words. “But I have half a mind to keep you all to myself. I always have to share my toys, I never get to keep one for myself, but you,” he sighs. “You are something special and I don’t want to share you.” He leans his forehead against yours, you can’t stop the tears from falling.

“I don’t want to be a whore Blue.” Your voice shook as you closed your eyes.

“If you’re a good girl for me buttercup then you won’t be. I will keep you all to myself, my own little toy.” his hands slid down your shoulders and laned on your waist pulling you closer. If sticking with him meant that you didn’t have to be at other men’s disposal that it’s something you could handle. You open your eyes and look at him.

“Promise I’ll only be yours Blue, promise you won’t let anyone else touch me.” you were terrified he wouldn’t keep his word. Blue says nothing, he just kisses down your jaw to your neck where he starts to bite and suck on the soft untouched skin.

*SMUT*

“Let’s see how good you are for daddy first.” He runs his thumb across your lips before pressing it into your mouth. You take it without protest, swirling your tongue around it and sucking it causing a small moan to leave Blues lips. “Are you sure you’re a Virgin Buttercup?.” You gulp a little before nodding. He smirks. “Get on your knees I want to see what else that tongue can do” You do as your told and sink to your knees. Your hands quickly find the buttons of his pants undoing them with ease, just as you are pulling down his pants, taking his boxers with them. Your eyes widen as they land on his thick large cock.

You lean forward, looking up at Blue as you run your tongue on the underside of his already hard member, he moans as his hand finds your hair tangling into it.

“Come one princess, stop teasing Daddy and take me in your mouth already.” You bite your lip before leaning forward again, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could and using your hand on the rest. “Now bob up and down princess and use that soft tongue of yours.” You hum in response which causes a low moan from Blue. You start slow, moving your head and swirling your tongue a bit, you wanted to please Blue, you wanted him to want you so you begin to quicken your pace taking him as deep as you could. Your eyes welled up as you tried not to gag.

“Fuck, such a good girl. You look so beautiful with daddy in your mouth.” Blues moans and praises were intoxicating. He pulled your hair harder and you jerked your hands faster. “You want daddy to cum in your mouth” Blue moaned through gritted teeth.

“Yes, daddy please” You moan and bob your head faster, taking Blue cock in your mouth till he hit the back of your throat. It didn’t take long for his seed to coat your throat as he thrust into your mouth. He slowly pulls out, leaving your mouth with a pop.

“Now swallow like a good girl.” You do as your told and open your mouth showing him. Blue taps under your chin signaling you to stand you. You do so, rubbing your knees from being down so long. Blue runs his thumb over your bottom lip and smiles. “You did good buttercup. Now let’s get you taken care of before you have to go off to bed.” You bite your lip getting nervous.

“You don’t have to do that Blue, Dr.Gorski must be wondering where I am” You straighten your dress but before you could do anything else Blue grabs your by the waist with one hand and slide the other under your dress, teasing your clit from the outside of your underwear.

“Nonsense Y/N don’t you worry about Vera, you seem to forget who’s in charge here.” He leans in close and kisses just under your ear before whispering. “Plus I can’t leave my good girl all bothered after she took me so well.” You clung to Blue panting into his neck as he rubbed your clit. He pulled down your underwear and picked you up, setting you on the edge of his desk. Blue leaned in and kissed you rough and full of pure lust. You pull him close tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Please Blue, please fuck me” He chuckles at your eagerness and pulled your dress over your head before kissing down your neck to your chest, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and rolling his thumb over the other hardened bud. He looks up at you with a smirk.

“More, beg me more pretty girl. Show me how badly you want to be my little pet.” You moan as he swirls his tongue around your nipple.

“Please Blue, I want you to fill me up. God Blue fuck me make me your whore” Your words drove Blue absolutely wilds. He stood up and pulled off his shirt before spreading your legs, before slowly pushing his cock inside you, stretching your walls. You dig your nails into Blues back and bury your head in his neck.

“B-Blue its hurts” you whimper and he gently cups your face kissing you softly.

“Shh baby girl just give it a second and then it will feel much better I promise.” You holding him tighter. It surprised you to see Blue being so gentle, he even surprised himself. It wasn’t like him at all to treat someone with such softness but he couldn’t help it with you. Blue began slowly thrusting into you until your whimpers became moans. Your head fell back as you arched your body into his.

“Please Daddy go faster, fuck” Tangled your fingers in his hair and wrapped your legs around his waist trying to pull him deeper.

“Fuck baby girl you feel so good on daddy’s cock. So tight and wet” you moan louder pulling his hair a little hard which earns a deep moan from Blue.

“I can’t last much longer daddy” you moan putting your face back in his neck.

“Come for me baby girl, come on daddy’s cock.” His words completely undo you and you clench around his cock as your legs shake. It doesn’t take Blue long to cum again, filling your tight pussy up with his seed.

END OF SMUT

You both stay like that for a moment, a panting, sweaty mess in each other’s arms. Blue was completely beside himself, he could believe the infatuation he had growing for you. He saw you with such vulnerability in your eyes that all he wanted to do was keep you in his arms, and that’s exactly what he planned to do. You were going to be his and only his. Blue pulled away brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and to bed buttercup. Tomorrow we have some meetings to attend to.” You look up at him confused.

“Meetings?”

“Yes, i told you you are my little pet. I will Inform Vera to get your outfit ready.” you bite your lip and nod not wanting to argue. He walks away for a moment and returns with a warm wet towel, withing up between your legs before putting back on both of your clothes. “Now get to bed Buttercup it’s down the hall to your left.” You nod and give him a quick soft kiss before going to the rooms. The rest of the girls were already there most asleep except Sweet Pea.

“He’ll get bored of you. Toss you aside like you were nothing to begin with and then throw you away like a whore.” There was a harsh resentment in her voice. You take a deep breath nervously biting you lip.

“Well im in too deep now arent I?” Sweet Pea lets out a dry laugh.

“Yeah I guess so.”

#blue jones #blue jones x reader #blue jones imagine #sucker punch #blue jones smut #oscar isaac

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fictional-thoughts · 5 years

Text

Poisoned

the mandalorian x fem!reader

warnings: smut, rough messy sex, slight dom/sub elements, sex pollen (dub/con), language, breath-play, fingering, one (1) spank

words: 6k+

a/n: this is genuinely the smuttiest thing i’ve ever written...enjoy

The Mandalorian is walking too fast, he’s gaining speed, leaving her behind in the foggy dark green forest. She’s desperately trying to keep up but her body’s seizing up and trembling and soaked in sweat. His cloak sways behind him and she’s try to not feel dizzy as the tanned colour of it clouds her blurry vision; but the planet is spinning in time with her twisting nerves and white hot muscles.

He’s clumsy, ducking under banches almost too late and his boots catch on thick veiny vines that litter the forest floor. The air smells damp and of pollen, of fluorescent flowers, dripping their sickly sweet scents and luring their prey. Deathly and dark violet the bulbous and puffy flowers hang in thick bunches, taunting the bounty hunter, teasing him with their lavender faces.

He should have known something was wrong. It was too silent. Too dark.

“Wait, wait,” she’s sweating under the thick and flexible armour, it feels as if there’s a million suns spanning the vast sky above her, burning down in fury from the gods. Skins slicked and her underclothes are sticking uncomfortably, melting to her frame. Her hairs a mess, damp and knotted and frizzy with humidity. “Damn it, Mando — somethings wrong.”

Mando nearly freezes in his tracks at her words voice high and broken; fuck, he knew it. She’s got it too, she has be feeling the same, weakened, chest constricted, halting breath in the lungs and skin burning like a forest fire, tongue parched and dry in the mouth, it’s death but only slower.

“What did you say?”

She coughs. The pit of her stomach is pulling towards an unseeable object, ripping through muscles in curling motions, thighs and hands trembling. The forest is so dark and bushy and green and lush she’s having trouble telling what is in front of her, eyes bleary and blinking in and out.

She hears the Mandalorian speak and nearly crash into the brushes under her heavy boots, the hot curls of pain unfurl inside her, a caged animal, clawing to be free and rid of her wretched body.

Something is really wrong.

Her hands find a mossy tree trunk and she’s barely keeping herself up, she’s holding her head in her shaking hand and has got her eyes screwed shut to block out the sight of the Mandalorian pushing his way back through the trees to get back to her, his long rifle catching on the vines and boots thumbing on the ground that seems to sway, a gentle and giant seesaw of lush greenness is the planet, twisting into a thousand vines.

He’s getting closer and it’s all she can do but not scream. Don’t, don’t come any closer.

“You okay?” He grips her forearm tight in his gloved hand and her skin erupts in goosebumps, prickling her skin with an override of electricity. Her mouth drops open as a thousand fluttering beings swarm inside her stomach as he’s connected to her.

“Don’t touch me,” she’s frantic and he’s pulling away from her, his gloved hands raised, almost in defence. Her own clammy hands are pulling at the thick straps and buckles of her armour, it’s too tight and she can’t breathe.

The Mandalorians mind is racing, thinking back to every single second they they’ve been on the godforsaken planet, it’s a slipping of details, they’re all a blur, pieces fell where they shouldn’t be and he’s so confused, why can’t he remember what happened to them? Why does it seem to be affecting her more then it is him?

Then he realizes.

The Mandalorian growls a soft swear, “shit,” and she whips her head to look at him, pupils dilated and forehead glazed with a sheen of sweat, she’s a breathtaking disaster.

“What?”

“This is your fault.” He’s harsh, condescending. He angrily snaps his rifle over his shoulder to free up his movements, he’s handling the weapon roughly and she’s watching with slight awe. Every second he’s in hot pain, it’s pulling him closer to her every second and now he’s absolutely certain. “Now —” he tries to explain but she’s already lashing out in that bright red anger.

“You bastard, how is this my fault?” She stumbles and nearly falls but catches herself with some dignity, ignoring the Mandalorians hand moving to help her, if need be. Her raised voice causes his chest to lurch and he’s trying not to look directly at her. He’s now absolutely certian and trying to remain calm.

They’d been wandering through the thick forest, stepping through shallow streams and climbing over moss covered rocks protruding from the planets crust. She’d been walking along, weapons slung across her chest, just absolutely entranced by the canopy of violet flowers that hung in thick and heavy looking bunches over their heads; the red suns of this planets atmosphere did their best to shine through the long winding leaves of the plants, but as the bounty hunters continued on, the darker their surroundings became.

She was ignoring the Mandalorian, angry at him once again for getting them lost, but his argument in retaliation was she had simply forgotten to pack the ships tracker back at base. Packed into a steaming argument she then proceeded to send him surly glares and refuse to speak.

The Mandalorian didn’t mind much, he liked the quiet, and quite honestly, he enjoyed it more when he knew she weren’t going to start speaking. He’d never been much of a talker, but going on this mission with a fellow (amateur) hounty hunter, he’s been forced to converse, pleasantly or not.

They had been walking under the flowers for ages, time didn’t exist there, a loop of the hours that dragged on forever. Then that is where everything was her fault.

She touched a small fluorescent flower, curled her slim fingers around the velvety petal she smoothed skin of the plant under her palm and turned to examine the bright pollen covering her flesh.

She caught his gaze for a moment, a hazed over kind of glint in her eyes, then looked down at her pollen covered hand, then back at the innocent looking plant, a light violet powder covered her hand, and imprinted on the large petals was her very handprint.

“It’s just a plant. We should keep moving.” He turned and strode away, pushing down the idea that she had looked beautiful, surrounded by soft colours, it was different than her usual aesthetic. She only smiled, her frustration melted away, and brushed the rest of the pollen from her palm, together they watched it soak into the air, soft and aesthetic it slid between the panels of sunlight that peeked through.

The faces of flowers watched the hunters leave the forest; poisoned and deadly.

“You gotta be fucking kidding. Fuck.” The Mandalorian sighs deeply and he’s trying not to stare as she’s stripping from her metallic armour, her hurried fingers untying the laced up straps of her chest piece he’s kneeling down and helping her before she can yell at him. His gloved hands graze the skin of her collarbone exposed between the laces of her white undershirt and she’s whimpering.

She can’t strip right here. He’s not sure what will happen if she does. “Stop.”

“I said don’t fucking touch me,” she’s pushing him away and glaring, dark and deep.

“Do you know what that was?” He’s cooled down, thinking of what to do, that pulsing and burning need is brimming within his chest, begging and a slur of sinful thoughts seep into his mind. “The flowers?”

She’s sunk down to the brushy forest floor amongst the fluffy ferns and little white dotted flowers with red cheeked and filled with fierce bemusement she answers him. “The hell should I know.”

His shoulders droop with his heavy sigh and he’s scanning the trees around them, wondering if it’s the pollen affecting his sight too or if the wooded plants really do look as if they are bending over them, creaking and contorting into an arch as if to protect the two hunters, watch over them. “I’ve heard of these before, and this has to be it — why you’re in pain.”

The Mandalorian makes no comment of his own deplorment, controling desire morphed into threads of pain. He’s keeping it under wraps but having her so close to him, so bare and soft, as much as she exists to him as an enemy rather than one he’s thought of in such a way its throwing his attention askew.

“I’m not in pain,” she’s snapping at him again, short words and a steely tone she’s already turning a cold shoulder, never accepting the fact that she’s not immortal.

Inwardly she knows she’s lying, but it’s a half lie, she’s in pain but it’s a familiar feeling, the warmth pooling inside her, trembling hands and thighs, she can just feel the dampness at her core, hot and slick she’s absolutely soaked.

“I’m just —” she cant string the words together, looking up at the stern Mandalorian she’s fighting back the urge, the longing and pathetic urge to crawl into his lap and have him fuck her till she can’t breathe; to sink himself deep inside her with a hand around her neck and to just fuck her senseless.

“I know.”

They’re back at the ship, the night air is cold and there are few stars alive in the sky. The Mandalorian and her are only feet apart, he’s across from her in his chair, back straight and unmoving, facing the dash. She’s sitting on the ground with her back against the rough cooling wall, the metal grated floor is hard and her ass is sore but if she’s sitting anywhere else she’s close to the Mandalorian and she can’t have that.

WInd howls outside and the huge trees sway in the darkness outside the Mandalorians ship.

She’s got her eyes closed, jawline accented in the semi darkness she’s leaning back to the wall, bottom lip caught under her teeth she’s biting down harshly and tapping her foot in an anxious beat as sweat drops past her sternum and slides over her skin between her breasts, she feels every milimeter of her skin crawl and its rolling in waves, the slick and pushing arousal, its sliding under her skin and got its grip on her chest so tight shes stripped her shirt off.

Her forgotten armour and boots lay in the middle of the open space within the ship.

This isnt ending soon.

The Mandalorian watching his fist curl and uncurl, the wrinkles of the leather gloves he’s wearing bend and fade, he’s unfocused and can only think of her, she’s ten feet away and hasn’t spoken to him since they made it back to his ship. He’s thinking of how she uttered a moan as he brushed her lower back, her eyes closing, slipping into a world where the affects of the pollen are taken care of.

He’s wondering just how long the effects last when the she speaks up, her voice hoarse and taunt in her lungs. “How the hell is this not having any effect on you?” His fist clench one last time and he’s shifting in his chair, through the visor his eyes close momentairly, pondering of what to say.

“I never said it wasn’t.”

For all the wrong reasons heat pools within her core at the Mandalorians tender voice, smooth and rich its all she can do but imagine how he sounds next to her ear, telling her how good she feels around him, how wet and tight. “You feel this too?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s still blaming her, still wrapped in the idea she’s at fault. How could she have known? In turn, he was at fault as well, getting them lost and failing to recall the deadly flowers.

Then she’s saying something he’d never expect.

“I’m so sorry,” she’s muttering, rubbing the heals of her hands into her eyes, blurring her vision — childlike, innocent. “This is all my fault,” grimacing, she moves her legs to be more comfortable. “It hurts,”

An apology. In the moment the Mandalorian finds it amusing that it takes fucked up pollen fever to force her to apologize for something.

The Mandalorians chest is pinched, painful, and he sighs deeply, she sounds so wrecked, her voice soft, weak. He hears her shifting on the floor and his ears ring witht he rustle of clothing — everything is sensitive. “I know,” he says her name in the short sentence and she’s whimpering in reply.

They could be anywhere, planets away, flying past suns and stars, holed up in dingy towns or broken cities — no, they’re ten feet apart and both have managed to inhale sex pollen straight from the deadly plant itself.

“Mando,” she whimpers again, sliding her hands down her torso, her palms press over her nipples and her back arches; she’s forgetting her hatred for the Mandalorian, letting his annoyance to her everyday life slip from her mind — she’s opened her eyes and he’s there, standing, the shadows curved around him you can only see the outline of his form. Her eyes linger on his arms, his now bare hands and the warmth tugs somewhere deep inside her.

Eyes darkened and filled with a lingering prederatory hilt, she’s pulling herself to her feet, the Mandalorians watching her, a warrior, torn and wrecked, chapped pink parted lips and lashes fluttering over her bright eyes — unstoppable, seductive. He’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about her beyond the dealings of companionship, of partners in they crimes they commit.

“We gotta do something about this, Mando.” Its killing her, she’s sure of it. Her eyes break into his beskar, drag over his bulky body.

“There’s nothing... we just wait it out.”

“I can’t,”

“I don’t care.” He’s back to cruel words in the place of his longing rule the flood of things he wants to say, to bend close to your ear and whisper. Fuck me.

She’s stalking closer to him, wetting her lip with her tounge its only moments before something has to happen, its damp and rushed in the hazy red lights inside the ship, they’re furious and watching the Bounty Hunters below.

“I hate you, you know that?” Her words are dripping burning silk — she’s never hated him. And thats her immortal demise, a secret, tucked away in her heart.

“Feelings mutual.” He turns his head to stare into her eyes, her widened and starlike eyes. His own dark eyes trail down past her collarbone and land on her breasts nearly pushed from her tight covering, rising ad falling in time with her breaths. His hands ich to just touch.

She purrs. “We can hate eachother,” she’s stepped closer to him and he’s not moving, allowing her to invade all idea of personal space she’s so close he can smell her. She seems to forget where she was going with her sentence, looking up at him its like she sees right through him.

“Can we?” His voice breaks through the mask. She chews on the idea, wonders what kind of pretty words it would take to get him to fuck her. Her cunts soaked and throbbing, the push of the material of her pants aren’t helping.

“Have you ever been with anyone?”

There it is.

“Dont ask stupid questions.” He’s turning away but she’s got a hold of his arm, her warm hand in contact with his is taking ridiculous affect, lurching up and and through his chest the Mandalorians heart is in his throat. “We cant,”

He’s thinking it too.

“Its not wrong,” she’s sliding her hand down to slip her fingers through his, stiring up the growing fire. Its hot and heavy, weighs him down. “Mando, please,” she’s begging, caught on whimpers she’s breathing heavier and heavier. The Mandalorin pulls his hand from her grip, raises it and he’s brushing a forlorn tear from her cheek.

Please. “I can’t stop it,”

He’s slowly going insane, at the touch of her skin something within him snaps and he’s pulling her close, pushing her to the wall of the ships interior, his arms trapping her in. Their breaths match, and she’s so close to him, her eyes softening her mouth opens to beg, of pathetic desperation and drunk on the flowers bitter poison. The Mandalorian stops her, a bare hand agaisnt her mouth he’s silenced her. The touch of their burning skin nearly has her dropping to her knees. She looks into the visor of the hemlet and searches of emotion, a flicker of life behind the face of a machine.

The Mandalorians body is pressed to hers, compact, brimming with the poisonous affections, they’re drowning in the stuff. She shudders in his grasp, the mix of metal and weapons, of leather and the soft material of his shirt, its all too much, burning and keeping her of air its not enough.

He’s looking away from her, forcing himself to keep his cool. Its a rippling fire, lurching and spreading as if alive, the thick coils are heavy. Mando tempts a movement, his cock hard against her and it’s so good — she whines info his hand, her leg slinking up his own, trapping him closer.

“You really don’t know what you do to me, huh?” The Mandalorian’s rough, distracted, caught in grinding out as much friction against her as he can, chasing away the clouding thoughts, screaming at him that everything is wrong.

But those fade, sink into pure silence when her free hand slides up his wrist, nails dug into his skin, she’s pulling his hand away from her lips, her heavy lidded eyes dance with seduction. He’s watching her turn his hand, help him cup her jaw, half spread over the side of her throat, his thumb glides over her lip, she’s turning her head, leaning into his grasp she’s taking the digit between her wet pursed lips, sucking, biting down.

Fuck.

“Please Mando,” hoarse voice in his ears and shooting a pool of warmth straight through him. She’s sinking into the wall, dark eyes pouring into him. Desperate. Longing. “What, you want me to beg?”

Mando freezes. A growl pushes its way through his chest. “No,” she’s ruining him, breaking him apart by the seams. Her brows knitted, eyes wide, pleading. A selfish, dark part of the Mandalorian wants to force her to her knees, maybe turn her front to the wall, press deep into her and fuck the burning urges away.

Her tones smooth and sinking into his skin, drugging him. “Wanna watch me get off? Maybe that’s what you’d like, Mando?”

She pushes him back, forcing stumbling steps, using what’s left of her strength. It’s wickedly wrong, she needs him so bad it hurts. She wants to drop to her knees, taste his cock on her tongue, strip the beskar off, drag her nails down his skin, make him moan her name.

Her words are nearly fucking unbearable. The burning sexual tension hangs in the air, choking them. The ships inside is warm and sticky, her half bare body is covered in sweat, her skin flushed and eyes dark, she matches what earthquakes seem and what passion wishes it could be.

The last dregs of self control fade, his minds hazy with greed and the absence of her burning fever touch has him desperate.

“Get on the floor.”

Quiet. Commanding. She’s obeying instantly and sinks to the floor of his ship, grated metal digging into her flesh, the ground is filthy and gritty and she’s biting back harsh words, only for the moment, thick and heavy need is in place of hatred. Her poisoned gaze burns into him, watching him pull away weapons and leather, heavy cloak and chunks of beskar — not all all of it though.

He’s over her, burning touch that’s melting to her skin. She falls into a moan, her stomach tense with arousal, spreading through her body, following his hands. “Fuck you need to touch me,” everything is begging her to delve into him, rip apart from their restraining history, make amends and build up something new, something in which he can fuck her and hate her at the same time.

And maybe he is.

Through the visor of his helmet, glitching into view, her body spread and displayed, his core deepens, eating him from the inside. Mando pulls her to his lap, her cunt right over his centre, throbbing over his cock. A hot moan drips from the helmet, he closes he eyes, letting her move against him, spine arched beautifully; Mando slides an arm around the small of her back, keeping her close with a spread hand. The other gropes her chest, further pulling down the tight material covering her tits.

“I need—” a whimper slides over her lips, her hands settle over his broad shoulders, drag him closer. “I need something...your hands — fuck — your lips on me.”

“You’re not getting that.” He promises, his helmets not coming off, he’s barely taken any armour off — and she’s bare over him, albeit tight underclothes. His hand slides down her skin, past her navel and dip down past her underclothes, shoving them aside. She gasps loudly, releasing her breath in a shaking moan as his fingertips brush her softness.

That aching pull, it’s deepening and she’ll surely run out of breath before the Mandalorian can properly touch her. She’s forgotten it’s not affected him as much as her — not that it matters, he’s got his hand on her cunt and his dick is hard and thick under her. “Please, oh my god.”

The helmet tilts, the coolness brushing her skin. He’s watching her, arched into his grasp, silently begging for anything. Then he’s curled two fingers into her, gathered in slick and crooked just right and she shrieks, shatters over him. Blood red lips and wild eyes, she’s moving, urging him to fuck her through the drug, bring the heavyness to an end. Its not enough.

She’s falling back, legs untanged with his, she’s gripping him and pulling him close, collasping onto the floor, his hand leaves her for a moment, tugging an empty ache back into her gut. “No, no --” she’s whimpering, “please keep going.”

His hand pushes the mess of hair from her face, looking right into her wretched eyes. Through the rush and anger, he feels a bit of softness, a bit of longing mixed with a likeness, she must be well under the drug, for she’s never been one to beg just that much. His bare hands slide back over her body, dipping past her hipbones and blunt nails dragging down her thighs. Her cunt glistens, Mandos caught in wondering just how she’d taste on his tongue, his head between her thighs, tight around his ears.

“Mando,”

The helmet tilts again and she catches a glimpse of skin, tan under the material and beskar. It’s the column of his throat, leading down where his collarbone would be. The sight sends her into fresh, delicious delirium.

“You need me to fuck you.” He’s buying time, seeing how far she can stretch, the looks of her all soft and longing is turning him on a little too much. It’s not the girl she normally is.

Half a sob curls up, painfully pushing at her throat. She needs him so bad. “Isn’t that fucking obvious.”

There she is.

Without warning he’s over her and his hand on her cunt, two fingers sunk deep in her wetness, pulling her into a painful arch from the grated flooring. She shakes, her hand finds his shoulder and grips tight, nails nearly digging into the thick material of his shirt. Living vicariously through the feeling of his fingers in her cunt, he’s back to thinking just how she’s taste, how she’d writhe and shiver under his tongue. The thoughts are burning through him and his dick is painfully hard — her thigh brushes him and he nearly comes right there.

He’s fucking her slowly, roughly; thumb brushing her clit through the plush wetness of her cunt, she biting down on moans and quivering, lithe in his grasp. “Mando please, I need —” she’s got her eyes squeezed shut, rolling through another wave of wanton poison, it’s bleeding into every nerve.

“I know what you need,” he’s got her. His voice soothes her, his rough hands pull her thigh up, three fingers slathered in her dripping elixir, they’re flat to her clit and pushing in short circles. His touch is chasing away the heat in her skin, derived under influences of lust, she’s collapsing under thick waves of it. She needs his hands, his lips his dick — anything. What the Mandalorian is doing is not enough.

“Mando, just shut up, please —” the slip of his fingers on her clit is sloppy, pressing hard and soaked in her honey. “I need something.” It still hurts, the pollens clamped itself inside her system, taking ahold of her hot muscles, her running heart and flushed skin.

He’s got her pinned, ragged sounds tear from him, the helmets speakers crackle with his breath. Mandos hovered above her, ire trained on her face, down her chest to her breasts rising and falling, pert nipples and soft curves. She’s so damn soft, angelic in a ruined sort of way. Mando groans, her hands found his cock, palming through the fabric.

“Take of the mask,” she’s panting, her free hand leaves his shoulder and slides down the metal, right where she imagined his cheekbone would be. His movements slow. “Wanna have your fucking mouth on me.”

“Helmet stays on.” He’s pulled her closer, sinking down to cover her bare body with his metallic and leather clad one, his right hand digs under her thigh, raises it to his side, slim fingers gripping her pretty curves. She’s frustrated, all that hate and anger comes back in droves, her hand leaves his cock, much to her displeasure and leaves him chasing the feel of it, she’s temping him, fueling a spark of anger.

“I don’t care.” She hisses, eyes scathingly dark.

Smack! His hand slaps the outside of her thigh, burning the skin a deeper colour and bringing a cry of surprise to the edge of her breath. Fuck, the spank shot the air from her lungs, swollen lips parted but not a noise leaves them.

The sudden sting and roughness of it was painful — she wants it again. Her cunts tight around nothing and she’s pulled on an edge.

“Could blindfold you,” the voice through the helmet is deep, it sends her further into an intoxicating trance. “That what you want?”

Fuck no. She’s biting her lip and pushing herself up and onto him. Her tits press to his beskar and it’s cold to her skin, covered in goosebumps and sweat, chills run rampant over her form. She whimpers, his rough hands find her cunt, dip into the warmth once again.

“I’m not putting a blindfold on, fuck that.” She’s panting, arched up to him as his fingers leave her cunt, slicked and tasting of her sweetness. She’s mewling and its not enough, she needs the real thing. She’s begging him to fuck her properly between the sounds of metal clinking, the heavy rustle of fabrics — he’s not wasting a second before he’s half torn from the beskar.

The Mandalorian smooths his bare hand over her cunt, watching her shiver — wretched art, she’s beautifully twisted. She’s palming her own breast, arching info the feeling, her body calling him, a siren luring.

Fuck it. He could do no blindfold.

“Fine,” he’s growling and grips her hips, hands dug into her skin he’s flipped her over, her chest pressed onto the dirty floor of the ship, the Mandalorian runs a hand up her smooth back, his hand curves around the back of her neck and she’s pinned down.

His free hand rips the helmet off, it clatters fo the floor beside her, the empty metal visor staring, watching. Basked in fresh air and the smell of sex, Mando leans over her, a large hand slides up past her tits and circles her throat. She whines and bends to his will. Mandos rough and unforgiving, a newfound freedom without the helmet has him pulling her body right to his broad chest, teeth scraping her neck, damp moans and mutters of curses fall from his hungry lips.

“Gods, gods you’re so good,” his raw and ragged tone is thick in the air, finally free of his helmet, still mysterious to her, it’s the sinking reality of just how attracted she is to him, how pathetically desperate she is, letting a man fuck her and never let her see his face; but the feel of his hardness pressed against her along with leftover leather and beskar mixed with his lips on the lobe of her ear is enough.

She wants the Mandalorian to show her how good she is. All that blinds her is pure need, flower drunk and trapped in the world of fever dreams.

Sliding her ass against him, his cock hard as fucking marble between them, she moans, ripping through another wave of arousal, she’s growing wetter by the second its evident on the inseams of her thighs, shiny and coated. The Mandalorian shoves harshly her down again, his knee knocking hers to the side, spreading her apart, bending over her his lips and teeth find her shoulder blade and between her yearnful sounds, stuck in the darkness of the fever, she’s struggling, eyes squeezed shut.

Then sliding past all that, pushing through shuddering breaths, Mando grips her tight and sinks himself into her. Its instant relief, a fall into icy rushing water and the world becomes clear again, everything is felt differently. She’s warm and wet, every inch delved deep in her cunt is pure bliss.

“Oh-h stars—” curling, tense pressure mounts within her, she’s sensitive and trembling, he’s breaking her open, it’s everything she’d been desperate for and more. She’s writhing in his grasp, tangled in pleasure, her form caved to his touch.

The Mandalorian moans, exilariated he’s pulling back only to slam himself into her again, arms supporting him he’s leaned over her, pressing messy and wet kisses to her shoulder, sinking his teeth into her soft skin he’s forcing her to cry out, to bend at his will and crave him only more. She’s stretched, a sleek feline, muscled and curved, her knees are spread and the metal of the floor is digging into her skin, its painful but she doesnt feel it in the moment.

At a loss of words, her lips part and she’s stuck, caught in thick webs of flowing pleasure, running in hot waves through her bloodstream, her nerves and bones. The Mandalorians pace is off, deep and hard, he’s sloppy and rough.

Its a race to the edge and she finds herself taunt, her thighs tremble and she’s already close, taking it hard she covers her mouth with her hand, pushing forwards as the Mandalorians movements twist into something other than, something primal and urging on what the poison called them to do.

Her body half broken under fatigue, Mando’s strong arms grip hers and gather her up, spine curved again, her ass pressed to his hipsbones, the new angles deep and he stutters his movements, head falling tight to her shoulder, resting for only a moment.

He’s fucking her harder, messier. One arm wrapped around her chest, hand clasped with hers and the other winds around her throat, forearm pressed over her chest. Fingertips pressing to the sides of her neck, he knows just what he’s doing — right amount of pressure, the slight squeeze, it’s got her gasping and hungry for adrenaline. She curled an arm back, holding the back of his head, fingers threaded through his thick hair, soft under her palm.

“Mando, fuck you’re good,” maybe it’s the drug, maybe she’s sunk under the influence, thick with lust but each show, calculated fuck against her has her wondering why they’ve never done this sooner.

He squeezes once, a warning. “Quiet,” and that’s why, she remembers, slurring thoughts mix through her foggy mind, he’s controlling, he’s rough and merciless — but it doesn’t matter now, she’s halfway to orgasm and the calling relief is so much better than her hatred for him.

She’s trembling on the edge, the Mandalorian fucks her hard and fast, chasing after release and turning the lust into something wickedly beautiful. Each hit has her breathtaking moans, a little gift to his ears, furthering his seeping arousal. She’s tight and hot around him, fucked out at a perfect angle and lashing against his grip, then it’s all blinding and his release comes from nowhere, coating and warm inside her she’s gasping at the feel, triggering her own fall from grace.

Slow and gutteral moans, shaking breaths and molten energy, they’ve fallen on the same brink of time, waves of lighting crash through her, the heavy coil snapping, evolving into sparks of rabid pleasure. She muffes shrieks into her hand. Mando’s never come harder, so unexpectedly torturous, she’s impossibly wet around him and it’s hard to keep a grip, her thighs shake. Three more leisurely thrust, deep in her cunt has him tripping through the moment, head dropping to her shoulder, teeth gritted tight, he’s a mess and it’s wrecking him.

“Fuck,” he bites down on the swear, she shivers as he pulls away, hands releasing her throat and waist she’s shaky and not able to hold herself up. Mando doesn’t speak, his mind filled with one thing.

Through the darkness of the Crest, the thick taste of sex in the air and sounds of her intoxicating whimpers, he sinks down and helps her lie back, her form shifting under him, she’s facing him in the darkness, breathing through the aftershocks. “Holy... shit,”

“Don’t move,” chasing the trembles down her ruined form, he drops between her legs once again, dangerous hands pawing at her thighs, her knees had knocked together, tensed in the throes of pleasure but Mando’s splitting them open and burrowing his head between.

She jolts back into reality, haven drifting into some kind of post orgasmic dream. His velvet tongue slides up through her cunt, finally having a taste of her, drinking all she has to offer. Wet and heavy moans shift from his lips to her slicked cunt, his whole body is pressing forwards, rebuilding the release. She’s choking on moans, the sensitivity is on the verge of pain, tipping past pleasure. The sounds of her cunt to his lips, his nose ridged against her clit, churning out a new rush, white hot and bathed in carnality.

“Yes, oh-h my gods,” her hands fumble, her form is numb to feeling, every nerve is retracting, drowning in the new burning coals and blackened skyes. It’s ruined daylight and broken stars. It’s only been seconds after the release, and another ones building. Hot tears threaten to escape, renagade and borne by exhaustion, sensitivity; and the Mandalorians not slowing down, sinking into her begs on the edge of sin, his tongue delves deep, flicking and curling around her bud.

She’s split apart, the half on verge of passing out, the other riled up, curling her leg around his shoulder, pushing him further and fuck she’s so close, pooling warmth and the rushed feeling of tightness, the burning coil taunt. Through the darkness, she’s wretched — faces of flowers coat her vision, blinking in and out, she’s lost off the world. It builds, stacking and mounting and she can’t control it. Shuddering, her spines arched and she feels chills climb the ridges of her bones — her thighs close tight, stopped by his rough hands, pushing her open but it’s too much, the fires alit and burning through her.

His mouth slants over her cunt, closing around in a wet kiss paired with slurred words, close to her slick the Mandalorians telling her to come on his tongue, that he’s got her, he’ll work her through it and then she’s suddenly shaking — pleasure rips through her form, unbearably shocked.

“Fuck, fuck, Mando —” she’s gasping and he’s addicted to her taste, sweet and sharp on his tongue, he’s breathing deep, his tongue slip against her core and he’s fucking her slowly through her release; she’s close to sobbing, the pressures releasing ever so slowly, the motions of orgasms bend and fade, twisted in her mind and body. Her hips pressed to the ground, keeping her still, large hands gripping, tight to her scalding skin.

His lips leave her, the urges come back.

The poison — cursed pollen, exchanged sinfully through their bodies, it’s not been purged, still thick in her veins and fogging her mind, she’s gasping for air as it locks into chest.

The Mandalorian feels it, somewhere deep and dark.

They’re right back at the beginning, her thighs ache and her hands feel numb, lips bitten red and skin coloured with marks, she’s an art form of desperation and need. Through the musky darkness, his hands find her body again, she’s in a daze, staring up at the red lights above them, watching them fade and glow. She floats back to the planet, back to the ship as his lips graze her neck, fresh with anew urge of ecstasy and hands smooth over her breast.

They’re going to be there for awhile.

feedback is always appreciated!

[tags / some of these are from the previous list, please tell me if you’d like to be removed or added] @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8 @fantasticwizardnerd @flipping-fan-tastic @thatoneemosithlord @dontbetricked @bamfkurt @m-is-for-mischa @otherthingsinhead @christiandior @ccordiform @darlingbravebelle @aj-2187 @boogiebunnies @charlotte-solane-writes @allihave-arememories @pedro-pascal-online @iprettybirdi @toasterking @jedi-dreea @s-v-e-l-t-e @http-user-eraser @fxcastle @titahnics @captianstartights @banana-batman @biolo-tea @raveviolet @aroseamongthestars @bitchasaurus @imconfused28 @rebelwriter95 @nyashi-kaages @bigtoughswordboy @stonertokoyami @sailorflowermoon @sleepingdeath007 @gothtechie @skys-luce-stellare @missalyssx

#din djarin #the mandalorian #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian smut #pedro pascal #star wars #the mandalorian imagine #pedro pascal imagine #star wars smut #baby yoda #cara dune

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yoonieboonie · 3 years

Text

The Substitute Lover (2)

word count: 1.7k

genre: fluff, angst hehe

pairing: myg x reader

summary: Finally meeting the college boy you've been eyeing on for months, everything goes wrong when you realise what you're really getting yourself into.

a/n: this is part 2!!! i cant figure out how to link the first part properly but if you know how pls slide into my dms and teach me hehe you can find part 1 at my tumblr profile. thank you for the love on the first chapter!!! 🥺 i'll do my best!!! NEXT | PREVIOUS

As soon as you're out of the view, Hoseok immediately swung an arm around Yoongi's shoulder. He was delighted for his friend, afterall, it has been a while since he was in a relationship.

Yoongi took what happened to heart. Namjoon noticed, it didn't take a genius to. He warningly eyed Hoseok who pretended not to see him. The mint haired boy shrugged off the hand and faced them.

"It's your fault, Hoba." He sighed, using the nickname they had for their energetic friend. "She's a senior and isn't around the campus much but news here spread like wildfire. I don't want her to think—" he continued but Hoseok cut him off.

"Think what? Listen, Yoongi. It's over between you two, it has been for a long time. I think it's time you quit moping and start giving yourself a chance to be happy again." This made Yoongi snap his head towards him. Hoseok may be chatty but he always knew not to cross that line. Both him and Namjoon did. What happened was considered taboo and was never spoken about, no matter how long ago it was.

"What did that Y/N feed you? Aren't I your friend here?" He challenged. Hoseok was about to answer when Namjoon intervened. He patted both of the men on the shoulder to kill the tension arising.

"Let's head to rehearsals, please. I don't want to be the receiving end of Mrs. Lee's anger today."

The auditorium was crowded, all students that are part of the recital are scattered around. Since the trio are all helping the backstage crew, they immediately went to their place and settled in.

"Where have you guys been?" Mijin whispered. They all shrugged in return, she wouldn't rat them out. Knowing well that she would do anything to cover up for Yoongi. Though she acts nonchalant about it, she has been crushing on him since their freshmen years.

"Just do your job and don't fuck this up. Please." She pleaded. All the trio did was nod.

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

You are now banging your head on the library table, earning looks from the other students who are procrastinating due to the upcoming finals. If the stake wasn't this high, you wouldn't be this stressed about it. You mentally scold yourself for acting so bold that day. For all you know, Yoongi might be a secret genius and that leaves you making a damn fool out of yourself not only in front of Hoseok and Namjoon but the entire campus aswell.

News of your mess spread quickly, the girl who wore thick-glasses and ugly sweaters asking the ace of the Music department out. You try and avoid their stares and focused on your notes. Praying to the heavens that you at least score decent enough if not scoring higher than Yoongi.

At this point, you don't even bother for the date. You just want to do your best. That is until it was time for your Humanities class again. Your hands are clammy as the test paper are handed out. You prepared for the test but somehow, your heart is pounding out of your chest.

You easily navigate through the questions but one left you confused. You try to recall the answer for a good five minutes but eventually gave up. If you don't know it now, you'll probably not know it later. That is until all papers have been passed and it was time to exit the classroom that a lightbulb went off in your head.

"Plato." you whine. The answer was Plato. You rub your fingers to your temple and let out a frustrated groan.

"Y/N!" a voice you recognise to be Hoseok called out. Honestly, you don't want to face them today. You are embarrassed still, and you're sure if looks could kill, you'd be dead at how Yoongi is shooting glares in your direction.

You adjust your backpack and offered a wave.

"Do you already know where you want to go for the date?" Namjoon teased. Hoseok laughed beside him, shoving his hands in his jean pockets.

"Oh," You sigh. "I don't think I'd be able to go on that date."

That made Yoongi look up at you. He should be relieved, he thought. But he was more intrigued as to why you decided against the bet.

"I forgot the answer to Test II, number 5. I left it blank instead, however when I remembered the answer, the papers were already collected." Not that Yoongi cared, but you seemed sad to not be able to go on that date.

"Think positive, Y/N. The deal was to score higher not to have a perfect score." Hoseok encouraged.

"It's okay, what matters was that I tried. I know Yoongi will ace the test. Specially when the stake was a date with me." you shrugged nonchalantly.

You moved towards him and held out a hand. He eyed it skeptically before lifting his arm to shake it.

"Wait! The results are not out yet!" Namjoon whined. If he was initially opposed to this, he no longer was. He was just as invested as Hoseok was. Pushing you to win against Yoongi.

You laughed and took a step back. "Alright then. If I do win, I want to go to Lotte World."

"You haven't been there?" Hoseok asked. You shook your head.

"I came from Daegu. This is my first time in Seoul and I haven't been able to roam around due to our classes. Besides, I don't see the point entirely but if I would go on a date, I would like it to be there."

Yoongi pretended to not pay attention. It made sense that you were not from the metro. The way you dress and your things are certainly not what a typical college student would wear to the campus. To add to that, he now does notice an accent from the way you speak.

"Namjoon!" a voice called over. It was Mijin, if you recall correctly, she was also part of the rehearsals the trio attended. Hoseok introduced the both of you the first time you had lunch with them. Taking that as a cue to leave, you gathered your things and went home.

The week flew by and before you know it, it was time for the exam results. You were dreading to attend class but not wanting to look like a sore loser, you got ready for the day.

Yoongi subconsciously kept track of the days too. Instead of practicing and attending rehearsals, he found himself too caught up with waiting for the results. He tried to convince himself that he just wants to ensure that you two never go on that date but he isn't really sure.

His heart was pounding out of his chest as he lay down his bed. He was one of the few lucky ones who doesn't have a roommate. Hoseok and Namjoon were, on the otherhand. Deciding to take the day off, he doesn't really give a fuck if he wins or loses the bet. With that, he turned and covered his head with a pillow, trying to fall back asleep.

"Pay up." Yoongi groaned as he hears Hoseok's voice inside his dorm. Namjoon chuckled and called out to Yoongi.

"Hey, I put my bet on you! Hoba told me you'd be too chicken to attend class today and I didn't believe him but seeing it for myself," he trailed off. Yoongi blindy threw his pillow at the two boys maniacally laughing to his side.

"Get up and get dressed. We're going to be late." Namjoon ordered.

Yoongi decided to not bother arguing with them. He knows he won't be able to get out of this so might as well get it done and over with.

Walking to class was annoying for Yoongi. With Hoseok waving the money Namjoon paid him with in Yoongi's face and dreading the results of the exam. He was fucking frustrated.

You came into view, trying to insert yourself into the crowd of people. Trying to get a view of the results. You failed, being lanky and small. You huff, to which Yoongi watched in amusement. You were something, he thought.

"Y/N!" Hoseok beamed and Namjoon followed. Yoongi trailed behind.

"Oh, I haven't seen the results. I'm waiting for the crowd to die down." You explained. Hoseok, excited to know the results, held onto you and helped you squeeze into the bodies of students trying to get a glimpse of their grade.

Yoongi's eyes trailed from Hoseok's hand that was holding onto both of your arms from behind. He knew that his friend was just eager to know the results in order to rub it in his face but the contact of skin made him feel as if it's something he shouldn't be seeing. It felt as if his eyes were interrupting something.

You seemed uncomfortable, he noted. Hoseok was one to be physically comfortable around people. With occasional brushes of hands or an arm around shoulders, you can always expect it from him. Yoongi knew this but he was still somehow bothered by it.

"Yoongi." He was snapped out of his daze when you called for him. He saw your tiny figure offer him a hand.

"Congratulations, Yoongi. It was a great bet." You spoke calmly. He wondered what the results were. To confirm, he didn't shake your hands but instead took a look at it for himself.

FINALS RESULT SY 20XX-20XX

1. Kim Namjoon -100/100

2. Min Yoongi and L/N F/N - 99/100

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7. Jung Hoseok -89/100

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His eyes widened. He realised you congratulated him because technically, you didn't score higher than him. You didn't win.

Hoseok and Namjoon was chatting with you, patting your back as you smiled at them in return. Assuring them that it's okay and you'll go to Lotte World another time.

"Don't worry, Y/N. Hoba and I would bring you to Lotte World soon!" Namjoon beamed.

You laughed in glee and thanked both of them.

You were about to walk away when Yoongi did something he didn't expect.

"Meet me at the campus gate, 9:00am tomorrow. Don't be late."

With that, Yoongi turned and left. Leaving you with your mouth hanging open, Hoseok and Namjoon smiling at you as they try to catch up with their friend. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

NEXT | PREVIOUS

#bts #suga #yoongi #bts suga #myg x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts x you

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

2 Become 1. Trish x F Reader [Smut]

a/n: uhh. i love women. ahaaaaaaaaa.... i’ve never really written smut before so here’s to hoping this is Coherent . i imagine this taking place a few years down the line from the anime, when trish is an established singer and you’re her adoring gf!! thank you @vani-ya for editing my first attempt at smut <33 word count: 2.2k. warnings: light suffocation, verbal degradation, some possessiveness.

“You always let them look at you like that,” Trish huffs, kicking her pearl colored taormina pumps off onto the floor without a care. Her typically meticulously styled hair has been reduced to a shadow of itself, loose strands of pink locks framing her face. She looks unhinged, the cocktail dress wrapped around her chest moving in time with her heaving breaths. “I can’t stand it.”

Your weight shifts from leg to leg, uncertain of how to best resolve this situation. Tonight was meant to be a monumental one for your lover, the release of her second full album. Accompanying the event was an exclusive party, high society socialites coming in droves to support and swarm about. Big name celebrities that maintain friendships with Trish weren’t a rare occurrence, as much as she bemoans having to stay on good terms with people she could care less for.

It was all going just fine until one of them started flirting with you.

She’s given you the cold shoulder ever since. You thought she’d be more understanding of your situation, not wanting to place her in an unwanted position by chasing off the suitor. Choosing your words felt almost like a death sentence, destined to upset someone no matter what you do. Unluckily for you, it’s Trish who’s exacting her pointed wrath upon you. All feeble attempts at explanations went unheard in favor of berating your supposedly “lascivious” behavior.

“What? Fantasizing about him now or something? Stop zoning out and listen to me.” Her voice is laced with sweet poison, like a deadly melody to your ears. She scrunches her nose up -- as you’ve noticed she does when displeased -- glossy lips down turned. All of her mannerisms are memorized like the back of your hand, a treasure map you’ve long grown familiar with. This emotion of unbridled rage is a new one, and despite yourself, you feel a growing heat in between your legs at how she’s speaking down towards you.

“I’m not zoning out,” you reaffirm, applying a quick bandaid to a worsening situation. “Please, just let me explain--”

“Explain what? That you wanted someone other than me to fuck you?”

The vulgar words fall from her tongue with ease, striking a chord within you. You’ve always known her to be the possessive type, coming from nothing and making her own way in the world. You were the only person she’s ever confided in, a reality that makes your heart swell with pride. She cherishes you, as you do her.

“That’s not it at all.”

This time, she opts to ignore you, struggling with the zipper on the back of her dress. Trish blows a strand of hair out of her face, growing more frustrated by the second. Your brain is still trying to work this out, thinking of all the best possible things to say to calm her down. When she gets like this, indignant and turning her nose to you, there’s not much to say. The pent up frustration needs a release somehow, and you have a few ideas on how to help her.

“Cara,” your voice is a low hush, just loud enough to reach her ears. You walk towards her, slowly, accenting the sway of your hips with every step. This dress hugs your figure perfectly, a gift given by your girlfriend. She’s still refusing to look at you, caught up in her mental battle of angst. The goosebumps dotting her skin don’t go unnoticed by you, familiar with how much she adores being called pet names by you. “Let me make it up to you.”

Your shared King size bed creaks underneath the addition of your weight. From the rush of getting ready for tonight, clothes and shoes line the floor of your penthouse suite. Being so close to her gives a chance to inhale her signature perfume, rich with jasmine and hints of blackberry. Lips hover just above the pulse of her neck, tongue swiping out to lick a spot that sends her shivering.

“Y-you can’t,” she inhales, rubbing her thighs together, “seduce me out of this one. I’m serious, you know.”

Humming against her soft skin in confirmation, your lips turn into a smile. She’s under your divine spell, her quickening pulse betraying the indifference of her words. Sucking lightly against the spot, you earn a sharp inhale when teeth meet flesh in a loving bite. Trish’s entire body is tense, muscles refusing to relax. Moving away from the spot on her neck, one of her most sensitive ones, you take in Trish’s appearance. Thick mascara-covered eyelashes cover her emerald eyes, roseate lips parting to either admonish you or encourage you further.

Placing a hand on the soft skin of her thigh, you give a tentative squeeze.

“Can’t seduce you out of this one, huh?” You can’t help but repeat her words back with a knowing smile, earning another sour expression. She tuts, peeling your groping hand off of her. Instead of pushing you away, she takes ahold of your shoulders, shoving you recklessly against the bed and climbing on top of you, straddling your hips.

It’s her turn to tease you now, rubbing achingly slow just above your heat. You can feel her panties growing more soaked with each gyration, curses slipping from her lips. The stain this’ll undoubtedly leave against your dress is of little concern to you, too preoccupied with watching your girlfriend fuck herself against your exposed thighs to care. She leans her head back, movements growing more frantic, and in turn making your own heat desire stimulation. Before she can go further with her movements, she stops, as if remembering you’re there with her. Cheeks flushing, she motions to the zipper on the back of her dress. Understanding the silent message, you peel the fabric off of her skin, revealing her soft chest. Unable to help yourself, you dip down, latching your mouth against her sensitive nipple and suckling it softly.

“S-such a whore, aren’t you?” She manages to get out in between shaky sighs. You let your actions speak on your behalf, occupying yourself with pleasuring her pert nipple. With your free hand, you knead her chest, thumb rubbing sensual circles into her. Moving back, you take the chance to flick your tongue over her nipple, drinking in the unabashed moans that drip from her lips like honey. She cants her chest into you, not so subtly grinding her clothed heat against you once more.

Moving back with an audible pop, you look up to her. “I could say the same for you.”

Needing some friction of your own, your fingers dip into your panties to rub against your slick folds. Trish watches with interest as you pleasure yourself, subconsciously biting her lip at the sight. With how worked up the two of you are getting, it wouldn’t take long to climax, but where’s the fun in that? Her hand snaps to yours, wrapping around your wrist and pulling it away.

“Did I say you could do that?” The edge one would expect to accompany the words is gone, replaced with a deep longing. She can never stay upset with you for long. You’re both her weakness and strength, the sun that illuminates her life. You giggle at her impatience, lithe fingers tugging up your dress without wasting anymore time. She raises an eyebrow at your lacy black panties. Seeing how the skimpy fabric hugs the curves of your hips, accenting your ass, has her chewing the inside of her mouth. Had you not pissed her off earlier, she might have complimented your stupidly attractive body.

Pushing the thought away for later, she pulls down your panties. Your cunt is on full display, flushed and begging to be touched. The way she stares at you, like a predator wanting to devour a meal, sends shivers down your spine. Kicking off her own panties, she throws them onto the floor without a care. Trish sweeps down, placing kisses against your clavicle, her soft hair brushing against your exposed skin.

Not wanting to waste any more time, having hours of pent up frustration to take out on you, she presses you further into the bed. You spread your legs, already anticipating her next movements. Trish moves her pussy against yours, the both of you letting out a low noise. She inhales shakily, steadying her arms on either side of you. Treating you like nothing other than a tool for her own pleasure, she fucks herself against you, moans growing louder with every movement of her hips. Any teasing for her zeal in pleasing herself dies out on your tongue, too occupied with the delicious friction of your cunts rubbing together. You move your hips up to meet her halfway, head thrown back at how amazing she makes you feel.

Trish pants, increasing her pace, but growing more erratic in the process. “You… you make me so angry…”

You whimper pitifully at her admonishing, Trish takes the opportunity to pinch your nipples in a borderline painful fashion. It sends a wave of pleasure over you, moan after moan leaving your lips as she continues to abuse your pussy with her own. You can feel your release building up, growing stronger with each passing second. Trish, your ever-attentive girlfriend, senses how your thighs start to tense up.

“That’s, hah, that’s right,” she takes in a deep breath, flicking your nipple once again. “Ngh… come, just because of me… no one else, only me…!”

You let out a strangled moan at her encouragement, orgasm sending waves of satisfaction throughout your entire body. She continues her movements, fucking you to the fullest, wanting the scent of her perfume to seep into your skin. To have you all to herself, claiming you as her personal slut. Knowing that if anyone wanted a taste of you, it’d be Trish’s cum mixed in with your own. When your body relaxes against the bed, sweat covered chest trying desperately to take in air, she moves off your exhausted body.

Still overcoming your own haze, you manage to weakly ask what she’s doing, knowing she has yet to come. But she shushes you, crawling over to your spot on the bed. Before you get the chance to ask what she’s doing, she lifts herself up, her own wet folds hovering just inches above your face. You flush a bright red at the sight, able to interpret what it is she wants, but still surprised by the boldness of her actions.

“Act like a whore, get treated like a whore. Make some use of that stupid tongue for once.”

Trish lowers herself against your mouth without another word. Out of instinct, your hands reach to grope the plump curve of her ass, keeping her from suffocating you entirely. She moans when your fingertips dig into the soft skin, unable to stop herself from humping your face. Swallowing, your tongue peaks out, flattening against her hot cunt. In a slow, teasing motion, you take your time tasting her. Tongue pressed harshly against her folds, starting at the bottom and licking to the top. You stop just shy of her clit, holding back a laugh at the whine she emits.

Feeling a new sense of vigor at the taste of your girlfriend’s cum leaking out, you lap at her pussy, knowing testing her patience any further will land you in hot water. Trish’s fingers curl up, hips gyrating in time with your tongue’s movements. She’s getting closer herself, body growing tenser as you eat her pussy out. Her hands reach out to the bedpost, steadying her trembling thighs. With the newfound support, she fucks your face, frantically chasing her own release. Her moans increase in volume, a string of curses leaving her as she stills against your tongue, which alternates between sucking and licking her heat.

There’s no speaking at first, only Trish climbing off of you. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, not wanting you to see how flushed her face is. The opportunity to take in much needed oxygen is taken advantage of, panting until your heart rate settles just a bit. When she doesn’t initiate a conversation, you crawl over to her bare back, placing kisses on it. Wrapping your arms around her midsection, your lips press against the shell of her ear, blowing.

“Are you still mad at me, il mio angelo musicale?”

You nibble on her ear as she tenses, all too familiar with how much she loves your little nickname for her. Trish doesn’t swat you away, instead leaning against your bare chest, sighing at the sensation. She wants to berate you further, but a void in her heart stops the words from leaving. All along, she knew on some level that you weren’t doing anything malicious. Just the thought of some man coming along and picking your unfairly cute self up was upsetting enough. She’s lost too much, too many people.

If she lost you, her world would be meaningless.

Instead of voicing any of these sentimental thoughts, she clicks her tongue. There’s no spite in her words, not anymore, instead replaced with thinly veiled adoration for you. “Maybe. I’ll have to think about it some more.”

“If you need to ride my face again just to find out, let me know. You’ll have to pay for my neck surgery, should it be necessary.”

“S-shut up! God you’re so stupid…”

#trish x reader #trish una x reader #trish una #not sfw #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jojo's bizarre adventures #JJBA #jjba part 5 #jjba x reader #my stuff #jojo's bizarre adventures imagines #vento aureo #vento aureo x reader

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fanfiction-funtime · 3 years

Text

Spritefather and Selene Interaction

A fan drabble for @clouds-rambles, I hope I characterized Selene right

Without much prompting it's a tad hard to write like this, but I hope it works.

Also I hope you don't mind me mentioning Cael amnesia anon.

(Selene was hanging out with Cael when Venti makes trouble, bringing the night to a close)

(Selene pov)

Yet again, I had to drag Cael's boyfriend out of the bar. This time because he thought someone was insulting his father and punched them, but he was just talking about some mythological person called 'Spritefather'.

I haven't thought about that story in a long time, not since I was a kid. Something about him being able to "use all elements" or something and how he "taught Barbados about freedom", maybe I'll ask Lisa about it.

"Excuse me madam, my father needs to speak to that man you're carrying. Please, hand him to me." I heard a voice from behind me say, the accent was a thick Schneznayan one.

I turned around to meet the person, a woman in an outfit that wouldn't look out of place in a family portrait of old Schneznayan nobility, they also held a vision.

A cryo vision.

I three Venti into a hay pile and summoned my spear, "your a pretty bad liar, LA SIGNORA!"

"No wait! You've got it all w-" I jabbed at her with my spear, using conduct to increase it's power, "I said wait!-"

"I don't bargain with people who hurt my friends!" Hehe, that was a cool line, nice one Selene.

"W-WHAT!? HOW DARE YOU INSINUATE THAT I WOULD HURT MY OWN BROTHER!" The woman gasped and pointed behind me.

I looked back and saw an abyss mage sneaking away with Venti.

"HEY! THAT'S MY BROTHER/BEST FRIEND'S BOYFRIEND!"

The mage noticed and bolted away. We chased it all the way to star conch cliff, where it threw Venti over the edge.

"Haha! Do your worst human! I have already completed my mission! Now without your precious archon, mondstadt will-!"

A tornado of water sprouted up from the sea, then froze in place. From the newly formed spiral of ice rose a cloaked man, and around him were 6 wisps of every element but cryo.

The mage turned around, and were it not for the dendro tendril crushing it's windpipe they would have screamed in horror.

"First you threaten to kill my son," the cloaked man stepped off the spire, the air polarizing itself with electro to form a step, "then you kidnap him while my daughter is trying to retrieve him," another step, this time the air simply pushes him up to form a step, "and now you have followed through on that threat. It tried to," the man took one last, powerful step, to which a geo platform met his feet and lifted him to the hanging abyss mage, "how truly foolish must you be."

He man then lit the tendril on fire, burning the mage like a furby in a campfire.

The man lowered himself down, Venti in his arms, and said, "I'm sorry Barbados, I should have gone to get you myself. Viktoria, what happened?"

Then he noticed me.

"EEEEP!" He shouted as he dropped Venti with a thud.

_____________________

(3rd person limited, Spritefather pov)

'Oh celestia, a person! No no, keep it together. You love interacting with humans in a controlled manner. This is just as controlled, just...a suprise.' Spritefather thought.

"By Barbados' hairy nostrils! You're the Spritefather!" The human Selene shouted.

Spritefather straightened himself out and cleared his throat, "y-yes, I am. But I am not 'the' Spritefather, I'm just Spritefather. Saying 'the Spritefather' is like calling you 'the Selene'. But now isn't the time for such trivial bickerings," Spritefather gave a gentlemanly bow, "thank you for attempting to rescue my eldest child, and for taking him home everytime he indulges a bit to much on vices."

Viktoria facepalmed, "dad! They aren't supposed to know that!"

"Well why not? They're friends with him, and best friends with his boyfriend. Which by the way I STILL need to meet-" he noticed Selene was seeming kind if pale, "you ok?"

*thud*

"Oh dear."

_____________________

(3rd person omniscient pov)

(There's no good point to explain this, but they're in a serenitea pot)

Selene woke up in a very confused state, and on a cloaked woman's lap.

"Please do not be alarmed, neither me nor my daughter did anything to you." The woman said.

Selene, in response, punched the woman and scrambled away, "who the abyss are you!?"

"Well I'm not particularly loved by celestia but I'd hardly say I'm abyssal.."

"Father, people here are not as accustomed to the divine as Liyue or Inazuma." The woman from before, who Selene thought was La Signora, said as she approached them with some tea.

"Wait, fa-no, no. Don't do that Selene, it's rude."

The cloaked woman shook her hands to dismiss Selene's concern, "it's fine, however I thank you for your accepting nature. Though it is to be excepted given your personal identity."

"How do you know me?"

"Heh, have you forgotten already? Though I suppose the change in form is not common among you humans. And nonexistent in the way me and the wisps can do."

The woman got up and started twirling, then surrounded themself in elemental power, and when it cleared stood the cloaked man Selene saw in her dream...

*wait*

"That wasn't a dream...holy shit that wasn't a dream! You're the Spritefather-I mean-you're Spritefather! Your real!"

"Indeed I am. I would think everyone in mondstadt believes I'm real, but atleast that leaves less for that misconception."

"What misconception?"

"Ask Barbados, shouldn't be too hard since you two are close."

"Barba-wait Venti is actually Barbados!?

"Oh dear I'm making this worse."

The still unnamed woman sighed and shook her head, "how about we focus on why my dad decided to be a woman? Surely that would be a far more easy thing to understand."

"It's because she likes women, and I don't blame her. World cold and hard, titty warm and soft."

"Dad who taught you that!?"

"You do realize I can hear the lives of all in my home yes?"

"I guess I'm at fault." Selene laughed.

"I will have my revenge upon you for this." The woman responded.

Spritefather chuckled, "oh? And how about you get your revenge over a date. Anastasia."

"F-FATHER!"

"What? She's single, friends to someone who can teach her proper tea ceremonies, and uh....they have....hmmm..." Spritefather was trying to think if what he could say to convince his daughter, "look I just want to see grand kids!"

"FATHER"

"K-KIDS!?"

"Look I'm pushing fifty million! If one of you doesn't get me kids in the next ten million years I'm going to grow grey hair!"

Anastasia starts forming an ice throwing knife, "REBEL'S-"

"Papa, what happen?" Came a childish voice.

Selene gasped, they were looking at probably the cutest thing EVER!

"Oh my ARCHONS! IS THAT A PYROSPRITE!?"

"Yes that's my child Flameo-"

Selene, already having picked up the the baby, "they're so CUTE!"

They hugged the little flame close to their face and nuzzled them, to which Flameo quickly responded to with their own.

"Smell like..." they thought for a moment, "big Bro Bardos!" They flew around Selene excitedly, "friend!"

Spritefather sighed, "Oh dear, now the rest will be coming out. And I just got them to sleep aswell."

It wasn't long before Selene was surrounded by six Sprites.

The Electrosprite landed on her vision and started vibrating happily.

The Geosprite asked, "are you strong!? I think I could be you!"

"Oh I'm sure you could." Selene said to appease the little Sprite as she chuckled chuckled.

The Anemosprite and Pyrosprite flew around her head like children.

The Hydrosprite was inspecting her clothes, "how utterly bourgeois, has my Brother and father been teaching you how to dress? Honestly, the people of mondstadt should learn from the reconnaissance captain of the knights. Now there's a woman who knows how to dress."

"Oh you mean Eula?"

"You know her?"

"Oh yeah, she's invites me to tea every now and then."

"SHE...invites....YOU...out for TEA!?-"

Anastasia puts her hand over the Hydrosprite and tries to hold her back

"Sorry about that," the woman replied, "kids and their crushes."

(Agua, muffled: I'M SIXTEENTH HUNDRED YEARS OLD!)

"Ha-haaa...."

Selene couldn't respond to that as they felt a prick in her spine, causing them to yelp.

A Dendrodsprite slinkied up her back and put it's head on her shoulder, "just sampling...never seen blood like yours...so intertwined with the...divine....yet so distan-"

Spritefather picked up his child, "please forgive Leafy, they're in their...adventurous stage. And their adventure is to learn things. Often things that involve pins and needles."

This was going to be a looong night

_____________________

The next day, Vanessa's tree

Selene yawns and falls on the statue, Venti doing the same. The difference between them is one is hungover and waiting for his boyfriend to take him home after the fifth assassination attempt this week, the other has to deal with the consequences of being loved by children and being there to try and stop the most recent assassination

"Holy shit....this hang over....I thought Decrabain's hailstorms were bad..."

"You shouldn't try watching after Leafy.....but I think half the pains are from Agua's jealousy bites......"

"You think that's bad?.....you should have seen them when they realized Cael and I....were dating....."

"...archons I hope I was never like that as a kid...."

"Oh cherry up you two!" Spritefather said, a bit too loud for the two, "it's a new day and-"

Venti hit his father with a clump of grass using anemo

"YOUNG MAN!-

"Ohheythere'sCaelgottagobye!" The archon said as he ran off.

Spritefather sighed, "he's always like that, running from responsibilities. But he always means up when it counts, so I can only say I'm proud of the man he's become," he thought for a moment, "except for when he turns into a woman for whatever reason, then I'm proud of the woman she's become...you know, after being around single form life for so long stuff like that feels so strange. I mean you humans are born with one form and cant naturally change it. But if you feel it's wrong you'll go through so much trouble just to get close to what us shape changers can get. While to humans it is inspiring purely because of the person's determination to take the form they so deserve, that they were truly meant to have. But for me it's so much more! The human spirit and will is oh so inspiring, but the amount humans go through! So much money, so much time, and in many places simply enduring life! Why even I couldn't get the...uh...transphobia is it?...out of Inazuma!Terribly sorry human language changes so much. Oh and on language! To think that I was there when the first cave man was trying to mimic the grunts of the gods, only to make something so much superior to them to the point that the gods copied THEM! And speaking of copies have you ever heard of the time Dainsleif-" he paused as he saw Selene's bored face, "sorry. One little thing and I start ranting and rave...no, it's info dumping. And I should thank you humans for making that term, and all the other wonder words you've made, and the medical advances. They've helped me understand myself....ah but look at me, rambling on again. You know what? For entertaining my kids the whole night, and listening to an old man's ramblings, I'll give you a boon. Anything you want, if I can get it you shall have it."

Selene thought for a moment. She thought about asking him to bring back her father, but they knew he couldn't raise the dead. She even thought...of her mother, to see her again, but they knew that it wouldn't help. A selfish part of her even wanted someway to reignite her's and Rosaria's relationship, after all that part of her life was, but she knew it would be wrong and that they both agree they just didn't work.

Perhaps just ask for mora? She did need some for a good night's rest, but that felt wasteful. What was one night's rest for what could be a lifetime of amazing power. But maybe it would be wrong to ask for something like power. Ah! She's got it!

"How about a spear? A really powerful one that compliments my powers perfectly! Oh! And make it look really cool!"

Spritefather blinked, then laughed, "well, that's rather simple isn't it? So amazing you humans. You expect them to make something big and/or selfish, like taking control of a country, or killing someone. Yet never once has one of my boons been used for anything bad. Even when they're selfish. Like one time I met a very selfish person who I granted a boon, and all he did with it was ask me to make sure the kids of Inazuma were never hungry. Ah, now that. That was ranting, sorry." Spritefather walked over to the statue's base and knocked three times, "hello Vanessa. It's been a while since I last called you, but I was hoping you could give me a hand? And perhaps a very sturdy branch off your tree?"

"Uhhh-"

A light shown down from the heavens and the ground shook, causing a skeletal hand to rise from the depths.

Selene would have screeched if she weren't so tired, "I'd prefer my weapon to be less...body part-sy."

"Nonsense! Everyone knows that bones make the best weapons! You know why it's called a prototype rancor?! BECAUSE NOONE WANTS TO ACCEPT THAT THE PERFECTED VERSION I, THE INVENTOR, MADE INCLUDES THE SHINBONES OF MITSCHURLS! YOU EVER SEEN A-*ahem*-sorry, rambling."

As he was ranting, a branch handed Spritefather a sturdy branch from the tree.

"Perfect, now a bit of magic and-" the two items blew up in Spritefather's face before reforming into a purple and black spear that ended in a feathery sleeve like pattern that was attached to a sharp blade that looked very much like a hand made into a spear blade. Mainly because it was.

A brilliant light shone down on the Spritefather as he floated up and presented the spear to Selene(mumbled: thanks Venessa)

"SELENE OF MONDSTADT!"

His voice became that of s god's, filled with power and compassion, booming across windrise.

"YOU HAVE SPOKEN YOUR WISH, AND BY MY HONOR AS THE ENTERNAL FATHER, I AM DUTY BOUND TO GRANT IT!"

He leans imup to Selene and whispered to her, "do you like the eternal father moniker? I thought it up myself."

"Oh yeah, 10/10, really keeping with the Inazuman background."

"Thanks."

"TAKE YOUR GRAND BLADE, AND GO FORTH TO CARVE THROWS DESTINY AND TILL YOUR OWN FUTURE!"

Selene took the spear, "uh...thanks?"

"Oh your very welcome. By the way how was that delivery? I've been working on the whole 'I am a powerful being' delivery for a few centuries."

"A bit hard to understand, but overall gets the vibe across. Maybe 8/10? Low seven probably."

"Yeah, I kind of expected that. Wonder how else I could get that effect, you know without the whole can't understand thing."

"Well, I've got teo other immortals to meet. Ones I need to question."

"Ah yes, I'm sure Cael and Barbados have much to answer for to you."

"Yes they do. I don't suppose 'see you around' would be appropriate here?"

"On a sense? It's appropriate. After all I'm your friend now aswell, and I prefer a life without isolation. So...see you round?"

"Sure, see you around."

_____________________

Admittedly didn't know how to end this. I like it but I'm a tad worried I made it to focused on my character and didn't give Selene enough attention.

Regardless I hope you enjoyed it cloud! I really tried to get Selene right. And sorry it took so long, sleep kept getting messed up, and then covid shot+forgetting to hydrate kicked my ass.

(Tagging: @storytravelled, @golden-wingseos, and @clouds-rambles)

#genshin #genshin impact #Spritefather #genshin oc #venti #genshin fanfic #genshin fan character

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modern-vellichor · 4 years

Text

In Her Blood

Epilogue

Summary: Bucky visits you in Paris

Warnings: Smoking, age gap relationship, language (profanity and french),

a/n; also please please please dont leave padlocks on the Ponts des Arts it is so bad for the bridge, it has collapsed before :(

He gets your address from Sam, saying that he's going to keep you company for Thanksgiving. He doesn't tell you he's coming, he cant sit still. His leg bounces the whole flight, much to the dismay of other passengers. He tries to sleep, to fix his internal clock, but he's too excited.

When he finally lands, its overwhelming. You spoke so highly of it, but he was still taken aback by the beauty of the city. He likes to think that he would never get used to a view like that, but he knows he would.

He rushes to your apartment building, ancient brick with dark oak doors, rustic and foreign. He stands impatiently in the elevator to the 4th floor. He knocks on your door a little harder than intended, and a man opens the door.

"Bonjour?", he says, confused. "Puis-je vous aider?"

He stumbles for a moment, mind going blank. He mumbles to the man in front if him.

"is Y/N here?", he tried to learn the French on the plane, but it was lost on him.

"Y/N? oui"

He called your name, then he heard you shout back, annoyed.

"Une minute!"

He calls you again, and you repeat the simple phrase, more frustrated until you're storming over.

"Bonjour! Puis-je vous aid-"

When your gaze meets his you stop talking, taken aback. You shake your head and kick back into action. "Hi, Hey", you pull him into a hug. "How are you?"

"good, good", he mumbles into your neck.

When you pull away, you're beaming.

"Bucky, this is Claude, my roommate"

Bucky waves awkwardly, then you turn to Claude, voice laced with a thick accent.

"Il s'appelle Bucky. Il est mon petit ami"

Claude laughs, shakes his head and turns back into the kitchen.

"come in, come in"

You usher him into your cramped apartment, occasionally Claude will say something, and you retort quickly with a sarcastic tone, until eventually you're ushering Bucky out of the building and into early autumn French air.

Your fingers are intertwined as you swing your arms back and forth, talking lazily about the streets around you as he gazes in awe. He swoons when he listens to you order 'deux cafés au lait'. You briefly explain the little history you know about the buildings around you, until you're halfway across the Pont des Arts, and you realise Bucky is no longer at your side. You look around, frantic for a moment before you spot him a few steps behind you, toying with a lock attached to the bridge. He looks faraway, and a little sad.

"Buck?", you say tenderly, squeezing his bicep. "what's wrong?"

He jingles the padlock as an answer, drawing your attention to the weight in his hand.

'Bucky and Y/N' is carved messily into the lightly rusted metal. There are tests welling in his eyes before he blinks them away.

"when'd you do this?", he sniffles.

"a couple weeks back, why?"

"nothing, just wondering", he says with a smile, pulling you into his side with a kiss, continuing on your walk.

Dinner that evening was a strange affair. Bucky had never seen so much food in his entire life, but you and Claude weren't even paying attention. After a brief and seemingly aggressive argument, Claude finally addressed Bucky in English, much to his surprise. And after that, the evening went smoothly until the sleep deprivation was catching up with Bucky, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. You chuckled kindly at him, leading him away from the table and into your bedroom.

It was cozy, several small plants lining your windowsill, dark green walls covered in various string lights and photos. Textbooks were stacked neatly onto shelves and the surface of your desk. You pulled the curtains shut, tucking Bucky into your bed and kissing his forehead before turning out the light and returning to the kitchen.

Bucky stirred in his sleep a little over and hour later, when you were readying yourself for bed. Old flannel pants and a shirt that Bucky was sure had, at one point, belonged to Steve. You mumbled an apology as you crawled into bed next to him, curling yourself against his body, he was always so warm, heat radiating off of him like a furnace.

Your legs tangled together, his arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders while you clung to his waist. He pressed kisses to your cheeks and neck, leaving playful bites on your shoulders. Theres a faint scar from when he drew blood a few weeks back, but its long healed and faded. He whispers a faint 'I love you' into your hair.

"why'd you come?", you choke out between yawns.

"I wanted to see you, I missed you", he states plainly, but you're not having it.

"you could have called", you drawl as if it's obvious, "but you flew all the way here. Why?"

"I needed to see you, I missed you, all of you, and I couldn't wait until you were back to sneak around your parents again. I need all of you", he pleads, his voice is desperate and raspy, nervousness coming out in shakes and pants.

You pull him closer, holding him against your body. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, his breathing shallow. You trace circles into his bare back, pressing a kiss to his head and murmuring; "you can have all of me"

@vicmc624 @adriannajackson @zizzlekwum @chipilerendi @madaroni37 @spameloearie

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #dadsbestfriend!bucky

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worldserasingandcreatinginmymind · 4 years

Text

Enamoured | Part Two

Requested by anon: “could you write one where james mcavoy meets swedish y/n around micheal and his swedish wife and he’s enamoured. (also that he confuses her with an english girl because she’s got an english accent like me) xxxx”

“THIS IS SO CUTE I- I love it??? So much??? 11/10 would read a part two ooof I wanna read about these dorks on an accidental date in London SO BAD”

Summary: after being tricked into a ‘date’, James takes the reader on a tour of London

Pairing: James McAvoy x reader

Word Count: 1612

Warnings: very fluffy fluff

A/N: you guys requested part two so here we go, I hope you like it! As always, spelling and grammar are not my strongest skills so please be kind :)

Masterlist | Part One

- - - - -

‘have fun with James, don't do anything I wouldn’t do ;) xxx’

As you read the text from Alicia it sinks in that you’ve been set up. Your mouth falls open slightly in shock and you laugh to yourself, shaking your head. James turns to look at you, wondering why you aren’t following him.

“Are you coming or…?”

This may have been a set up but that doesn’t mean you cant enjoy yourself.

“Sorry, yeah. No more distractions” you smile and drop your phone back in your pocket before catching up with him “where are we going first?”

“It’s a surprise” he winks playfully and you raise an eyebrow back at him.

He takes you to the nearest Underground station and attempts to explain all the different lines and zones, you both end up laughing as it all goes straight over your head. The underground system is complicated. When you get off he leads you up to Leicester Square and tells you stories of various movie premiers he’s attended there. You end up stood watching a street performer for a while until someone in the crowd recognises James and attention is turned on him and subsequently on you. When people start asking you personal questions and sticking cameras in your face he ushers you away from everyone and into a taxi.

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly and you just smile and nod your head gently. He smiles back but you can see on his face something is bothering him. He doesn’t speak much for the rest of the short taxi ride until he asks the driver to stop. He pays him and you both get out, then James leads you into a small Italian restaurant. He waiter and James greet each other like familiar friends.

“You want your usual table?” The waiter asks with a thick Italian accent.

“Please, thank you Mario” James responds and your lead to a candlelit table in a quiet corner of the room.

Once sat the waited gives you menus and leaves you to decide what you’d like. Then you notice the prices on the menu.

“James, this place is expensive! I can’t-”

“Don't worry, its my treat” he cuts in

“No really-”

“My treat” he reaffirms and you sigh in submission

“Thank you” you smile

“No problem” he looks back at the menu for a moment then puts it down on the table and takes a breath. “I’m really sorry about what happened back there”

“Honestly don't worry about it, its fine”

“No it’s not fine for them to harass you like that. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do and I wouldn’t want to do anything else I just wish sometimes I could switch it all off. You know? Be a ghost, or invisible or something. Have a day off from being James McAvoy and just be regular James. Ugh you must think I’m such an ass”

“No, no I get it. And I don't think you're an ass. I like regular James.” You pause “James McAvoy on the other hand… now he’s a bit of an ass” you wink and James bursts out laughing.

— — — —

When you finish lunch James pays and you leave the restaurant together. James continues his London tour by talking you to the theatre district, where he points out the many theatres he has performed in. A small gasp escapes your mouth when you spot the posters on the wall of the Lyceum Theatre. James looks at you and follows your gaze to see the you're staring at the Lion King.

“I’ve always wanted to see that show” you say dreamily and James watches you. The look on your face gives him an idea. He hooks his arm around yours and leads you toward the theatre.

“wh-what are you doing?”

“trust me” he responds and he leads you around to the stage door. He knocks and a guy opens the door. When he sees James his eyes light up.

“James!” He booms as he fist bumps him

“Hey Andy, is Julie in?” James asks

“yeah, come in” he holds the door open and gestures you inside. He leads you through some doors till you meet a dark haired woman who hugs James.

“Hey Jules, this is Y/N.” James introduces and Julie smiles at you “She’s here from Sweden and she really really wants to see your show… don’t suppose you’ve got a couple of spare tickets for today’s matinee?”

“hmm.. I’ll see what I can do. But only because it’s you” she smiles at James before hurrying off. A few minutes later she appears again holding two tickets which she hands to James “sorted. Enjoy the show guys” and she hurries off again. You turn to James, a look of shock on your face.

“Oh, my, God! You're amazing!! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!” You throw your arms around him and he laughs, hugging you back. You pull away and look into his eyes “really, thank you!”

— — — —

The show was incredible, although James found himself watching your reactions more than the show itself. The way your face lit up when you laughed, the way you smiled through almost the whole show and the way your eyes glistened when the show made you cry. He couldn’t help but reach out and squeeze your hand.

“that was just, ugh, I have no words. No words” you say grinning from ear to ear as you leave the theatre together “thank you so much”

“you know I think thats the 100th time you’ve said thank you”

“101st actually” you grin “seriously I mean it, today has been the best day ever”

“its not over yet”

As the day turns to evening you spend the rest of the day doing typical tourist things. You stand outside Buckingham palace where James tries, and fails, to make the guards smile. You visit Oxford street and look through the window of magnificent shops. You end up running around Hamley’s toy store together, playing with various toys until you almost get kicked out by one of the workers for plastic sword fighting but James bribes her with an autograph and a selfie. You finish the day with a moonlit walk by the side of the Thames before ending up back where you started at the bottom of the London eye.

You turn to face each other. You're about to speak when James stops you.

“don't say it”

“don't say what”

“don't say thank you”

“why not?” You laugh

“because im not finished yet”

“but its late, surely we’ve done everything by now”

“there’s still one more thing we need to do” he smiles and points up at the giant wheel next to you.

He leads you up to the entrance of the London Eye and you step inside one of the glass dome. Once inside you notice there’s a small selection of food and some glasses of wine waiting for you.

“you cant say you’ve been to London if you haven’t been on the eye” James holds up his glass and you clink yours against it. You sit together on the bench in the middle of the dome, looking out across the contrast of the bright London lights against the dark sky. When the dome reaches the very top of the eye you stand up and walk to the edge, admiring the glittering city in front of you. James walks up to join you, putting his arm around you.

“So, how did I do as a tour guide?” He asks.

“I think, you chose the wrong career. You’re a much better tour guide than you are an actor”

James fakes hurt and you laugh, turning to face him.

“I’m kidding. You're amazing at both” you smile sincerely and lock eyes with James. He brings his hand up to your face.

“I think you’re pretty amazing too” he smiles, before gently kissing you on the forehead. When he leans back his eyes flicker down to your lips. He leans in slowly, giving you chance to pull away but you don’t. His lips meet yours and you close your eyes as you kiss him back.

When the kiss comes to an end you giggle nervously, suddenly feeling like a blushing school girl, which makes James laugh.

“I think we should take a picture, I want to remember this moment” he says taking his phone out. He pulls you in with his arm around you and you both smile widely as he snaps a selfie, the lights of London in the background.

Your ride on the eye comes to an end and James hails a taxi for you.

“Thank you for an amazing day, you’re the perfect tour guide” you smile, and James takes your hands in his.

“Well you're the perfect tourer… tour-ee? I don't know the word, but you get what im trying to say” he replies and you both laugh as he opens the taxi door for you to climb in. “text me when you're back safe yeah?”

“will do” you nod and smile as he shuts the door. The taxi pulls away, leaving him standing alone by the road. A few minuets later a notification pops up on your phone.

‘instagram: @jamesmcavoyrealdeal tagged you in a photo’

You click on the notification to see he’s posted your London eye selfie, with a simple smiley face emoji as the caption. You like the photo and put your phone back in your pocket only for it to buzz again straight away. You take it out to see a text from Alicia with a screenshot of James’ insta post.

‘oh my God tell me everything xxx’

#James mcavoy #James McAvoy fanfic #James McAvoy imagine #James McAvoy x reader #enamoured #fluff

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border-spam · 4 years

Text

Leech Lord : Jak-Knife

JK belongs to / is written by / designed by @godkingsanointed

“That Bandit’s a ghostwalker, my God-King. You don’t want ‘em here, trust me. Sometimes dead clans leave corpses behind that aren’t straight in the head enough to know that’s what they are... Crawl across the plains looking for somewhere else to belong, looking for a new family clan ‘cause all that’s left of theirs are Rakk picked bones. Seen plenty over the years, and they trail bad luck behind ‘em like a disease. That one’s marked like a Hellion, those got slag-burned into the ground by Atlas back in Old Haven. Your majesties weren’t here when that happened, but we were, and I remember. Leave them to me, the scout teams always need fresh meat for replacements.

They won’t stay alive long enough to be a concern.”

- Mouthpiece

Whether death follows JK or they sprint after it in pursuit is something they’ve never really been sure of. It could be either - some great predator snapping at their heels while they grew up in a Bandit clan that wasn’t kind to the small and gentle, or a force they are drawn to effortlessly like the migratory animals that follow Pandora’s monsoon seasons.

Could be either.

Could be both.

Same outcome they figure, so why would it matter.

They'd been a kid when it happened, well, a kid to anyone not a Bandit. In that life 16 years old is more than enough to run with a raid party, adult enough to work yourself to the bone, to show you can earn your keep when your brother is "useless" and you've got to be worth 2 bellies of food or watch as one of you goes hungry. Jak-Knife and Gutpunch, one a runt squinting up from under a stolen warrior's mask crafted for someone twice their size, the other a gentle giant born into a life that no aspect of their soul suited. They'd protected him, them with their little body and dull pocketknife versus the sometimes cruelty of a clan who's survival was based around only the fittest, only the strong staying part of it.

Not evil, just living as was needed. Pandora is harsh, there is no room for softness if you want to stay alive on her rocky flats, that's just the way things are. Nature isn't cruel, it simply is.

They were 16 when the Lance came.

16 years they'd lasted in the Hellions, till the day the gates of Old Haven had been opened for the Crimson Lance's money carriers. They'd done their job, they'd cleared the town at the request of the white Siren, been promised a home for the clan, a place to belong, and in the end, their payment came in bullets sprayed from Atlas gun barrels.

By the time JK had woken up and tried to heave Gutpunch's corpse off their back from where he'd shielded them, it had been two days. Groggy and confused, they'd panicked, desperately trying to scrabble out from under his bulk as the remaining Lance stopped piling bodies to burn and ran towards the sound of gunfire outside the gates.

Vault Hunters. Worse than the lance.

They couldn't take him with them, he couldn't move now, but they couldn't leave him like this, not a brother. Not when he was all they had who'd understood when they'd try and explain why their meat was wrong, how the flesh didn't sit right, when he was who would help them tighten rags around their chest and listen as they ground their overly developed canines and growled to the stars at night when it got too heavy to bear. They couldn't leave him behind after a life together, so they took his mask. Scrabbled at the bindings and peeled the effigy from what was left of his head. They realised as it separated from flesh that it had been all that was holding the remnants of skull together... but this was his face. The meat under it was Gutpunch, but the mask... they'd wear it now. He'd still be with them.

Jak-Knife had ran from the massacre of Old Haven on shaky legs, ducking as bullets whistled through the air around them as Crimson Lance and Vault Hunters traded fire in panicked waves. No hits, not directly, but a spray of Slag from a barrel ruptured by a narrow miss had sliced across their right, thick and acrid in the air as it burned through skin and into muscle. There had been no time to feel the pain, no time to stop, JK had run till their feet bled and the weight of Pandora's inky night blanketed them in exhaustion they couldn't fight any longer.

They'd started to stumble forward once they stirred in the morning. Like Mouthpiece said, a ghostwalker. No clan, no brother, no belonging. They walked and didn't stop for a long time.

Walked to New Haven, to the walls outside the town and a woman with her own terribly scarred face masking a heart softer than others would guess. Not a home there, not really, but allowed stay. A kid is a kid, even when wearing the blood-streaked mask of a Bandit. She couldn't turn them away.

They were 18 when Hyperion came.

Ran again amidst the screams to do so, ran into the wastes of Pandora and a world that made more sense to them than the town being torn apart behind them. Missed her though, Pierce. She'd been kind. A lot of those people had been kind, and now they were dead. Hyperion, Atlas, same thing. Just monsters lead by monsters.

They'd walked to the Slabs, to a jovial King who mocked their size with a tone that both bristled their muscle and left them feeling... welcome. Not a home there either, not really, but there had been jobs to run and food to earn. They'd been allowed stay, and so they did. Stil a Hellion though, still Slag-burned and covered in their clan's flame emblems and splashes of neon across their gear.... still wearing Gutpunch's blood coated mask.

The Slab king had heaved himself into their cramped sleeping quarters one night and whispered that there was a funeral for her soon, Pierce. They could go if they wanted, he'd whispered from under that massive helm. Told them with a gentleness they'd never heard before that he understood loss, having things you loved taken away from you for no reason bar cruelty. That he remembered Old Haven and wished he didn't. That they should go. They'd be welcome there.

So JK had walked again, out of Thousand Cut's Slab fortress and to a somber funeral in the icy fields of Three horns that was filled with Crimson Raiders - a mix of Vault Hunters and ex Lance, and stood in memorial amidst people that made the blood under their skin burn, all to show the respect she'd earned to a woman who'd treated them like a human.

A merc now they figured, easier than being a wanderer and Sanctuary needed mercs. Found themselves in the bar some nights, wary eyes glaring from mismatched lenses as they sat silently at corner tables while watching the rest of the loud patrons, back against a wall and a clear exit always planned.

She'd noticed. She liked big 'n mysterious. Liked how her flirtations rolled off them and were replied to with genuine questions about her. Quiet, gentle-voiced comments about the drinks, how well she played her marks, how clever that gunbelt around her thigh was positioned for quick access if she needed to control a situation with more than just her looks.

Moxx liked this one, and a friendship slowly bloomed into something beautiful.

It had been her who had put their name forward when the leaders of the Raiders had become concerned over the darkness slowly seeping across Pandora's horizon, of the bizarre war cries of fanatics leading raids on smaller Bandit camps and shanty towns...

The "Children of the Vault" was a name being passed through hushed whispers in slums and rot-dives, and Lilith had rolled "Calypso" across her tongue enough times when reading scout reports to know the taste it was leaving behind wasn't anything good. They wanted an in, and what better spy to infiltrate a Bandit cult than a Bandit. Someone who understood clan hierarchy, who could report back in words she could understand from a viewpoint she could never see.

JK had been... wary. To say the least. The Raiders weren't friends, they'd filled their ranks with ex Crimson Lance like they hadn't committed atrocities, they mowed down Pandora's natives like mad Skags who needed extermination, and Krieg...

They all knew of Krieg. Everyone had seen how he'd been really treated. JK certainly had, but they also knew Krieg had been one foot into the great hunger, that he'd been so close to the flood that he'd spoken in half Psycho-cant and half Bandit, and tore at his skin to sate the itch of the song that the mad ones screamed about. That the raiders would let him burn alive in a fury if it meant a successful mission, and they couldn't help but wonder how respected he'd really been. Some kind of mix between respect and pity they figured, mocked behind his back as "Just another Psycho", someone who got the job done even if he limped back covered in blood and bullet holes, but was whispered about as needing to be watched.

He had been called a Raider, and yet - masks like his and JKs covered the command room's wall like trophies. Murderers of their clans walked Sanctuaries halls and narrowed untrusting eyes even at Krieg's hulking silhouette as he passed. It wasn't right, and JK struggled to feel as welcome as the others insisted they were now that they had a use.

But they'd taken the job, because Moxxi said they should and Moxxi was clever, Moxxi cared about them and wanted to see them be happy, so they'd agreed. She had whispered in an accent they’d learned from long nights in her company was for real things and not her act, that this would help people, that the COV was worrying her more than she was concerned about getting intel to Lilith, and they'd nodded in agreement.

Bandits don't congregate, Bandits don't merge clans under one banner... they wanted to know what this beast clawing into Pandora's soil was capable of. They'd heard the rumours like everyone else, twin Sirens apparently. Bullshit, everyone knew Sirens were women and there were only 6. Jack had hammered that information through Bandit clans and across Pandora's E-Com network clear enough. These were obviously frauds using trickery to control those eager to believe, wouldn't be the first time a Siren cult had used Bandit clans as a personal army, and JK had felt roiling disgust at the realisation what they were agreeing to do for Lilith? Just another shade of the exact same thing.

Funny, wasn't it. Very funny.

So they'd walked out of Sanctuary and towards the hub of the birthing COV.

They'd been 20 when they had first seen a real God.

The Holy City didn't exist yet, just a pile of rickety buildings thrown up by worshippers that surrounded an old Dahl fortress bleaching slowly in Pandora's sun. They called it "The Cathedral", but it looked like the crumbling bones of some great dead thing jutting from the red sands like a cracked skull. Maybe those were the same thing, JK had thought. A cathedral, and a beast of the flood. Both seemed like something that should be worshipped to them. They liked this place.

Neon paint and rusty metal spines were everywhere among the shantytown, raucous laughter cut through the clang of metal, and the air itself was heavy with an unmistakable stink of unwashed bodies and leather. They felt it so quickly as they'd crunched through the dirt paths that split the weaving rows of scrapped together tents, making their way to the recruitment line. A fleeting tickle of a sensation that hadn't filled their belly in so long. That this was like...

home.

The twins themselves were cagey and difficult to pull usable intel about. They gave sermons from the crumbling balconies of the fortress to the swathes of screaming acolytes below, too far for JK to get a clear eye on them but dressed like Sirens at least. Swirling loops of pacifying blue along the woman, and the man... jagged lines and curved whorls of a vicious red they'd never seen on any living or dead Witch. He was off. That one was wrong, and his sister made her agreement on that clear enough in how she acted next to him. She was the star, she was in the limelight, and he was relegated to a place behind her when she spoke to her worshippers and basked in their screeched worship. Odd for a "God-King" to be left in shadows, they'd thought.

Odd indeed.

They reported back to Lilith in Sanctuary whenever the opportunity arose to leave the growing "City", cult movement, basic info on what they could see as a blossoming threat to raiders, and it was always met with sneers of disgust and pity. Monsters, she'd sighed. Just using the bandits as fodder. JK's eyes flicked to the masks decorating the trophy wall behind her.

"Whatever you say, commander".

Mouthpiece had kept his word. Fully aware of what had happened to JK's clan and uncomfortable with seeing something he believed to be a walking curse among the COV's war parties, he'd purposefully sent them on suicide runs with some of the less physically capable recruits. "Trial by fire" he saw it as, simple logic when it came to survival on Pandora. Let the weak earn their place - if they die, they die. That's the law of the land, and losing the soft only leaves the clan stronger. Except, JK' scout parties just kept coming back. It had seemed almost a fluke the first couple of times, scouts didn't last long after all, but as it repeated again, and again, Mouthpiece and higher members of the raid parties began to notice.

A combination of Hellion war training and their years of working side by side with their brother had left an understanding of why having others watch your back was more beneficial than only caring about your own neck, especially when you weren't as big as the next guy. JK was a survivor, they'd never been willing to lay down and die so the rest of the clan could be down a "weak link", and their knife-edge instincts merged with a care for the other scouts not usually seen amongst Bandits meant they were teaching the team. Unifying them as a group who responded to signal whistles, barked cant, warcries that triggered defence formations and eyes on flanks. They were leading without being called a leader, and as that first year slowly ticked by, they were being noticed.

Sharp eyes that scrutinised numbers and statistics were watching the growing ratio of successful raids to lost bodies from the recessed shadows of the looming Cathedral while Jak-Knife trained and barked orders at recruits in the garrison that sprawled in the white hot sunlight below, and eventually, the day came where the God-King knew their name.

They'd stood shoulder to shoulder with their boys as they lined facing the burning light at Mouthpiece's demand. The mask lenses had done barely anything to block out Pandora's vicious sun as he'd approached, and they'd shuddered at the warchief's hissed warning to show due respect, or die where they stood. He wasn't accepting of failure, they knew that from the hushed whispers that spread across the camp at night. He expected perfection, and word from within the now sprawling architecture of the growing Cathedral was that neither twin took insult lightly. She sucked the life out of the undeserving and he, well, he supposedly just ripped heretics clean apart.

Father Troy had been all sharp angles and gaunt bone as he'd stopped his slow pace in front of them and hunched to lean down to their eye level. They'd realised how wrong they'd been about his appearance as the heavy furs that splayed across his shoulders like a mantle blotted out the sun behind him and framed his jagged silhouette in light.

Tyreen wasn't short.

Troy was a monster.

It had been hard to pick up on his scale when they'd only seen him next to his sister, they'd just figured she was a smaller woman and him a tall man, but the reality of his size was beyond intimidating now that they could see with frightening intimacy that the scrapped together prosthetic that he held at his side so effortlessly was as long as they were tall.

A glint of gold teeth through a smile they'd thought more Skag than human snapped them out of their shock, and he'd congratulated them. Thanked the "Jak-Knife" he'd been watching so closely for their excellent work on the field, waved the disturbingly proportioned metal claws of his arm towards their team and praised their group promotion, slathered honey-thick words from a barbed tongue about how they'd be blessed by being the honour guard for a God now - a fine reward for their outstanding work... yes?

The others had gasped in stuttered praise and whimpered thanks while Jk had nodded respectfully, knowing damn well that Calypso wasn't really asking at all.

The newly titled vanguard escorted him everywhere, and that meant a shift in JK's life within the blossoming city that they could not have prepared for. They no longer slept on bare ground when not visiting Sanctuary for updates, they were brought into the twin's cathedral, were able to see its glory with their own eyes for the first time. The inside wasn't anything like the still decrepit outer walls surrounded by scaffolding that workers scurried across like ants, it was like nothing Jak-Knife had ever seen.

A bastion of worship, vast cavernous stone halls spread with clan banners in colours they'd almost forgotten, neon blazing lights framing sprawling stained glass windows depicting Saints and Clergy who's names they'd heard but never put a face to.

Ur-Aurum, scowling from under heavy brows, framed in monochrome and gold. Coins and bullets pouring from his open palms.

Ur-Machina, sharp and vibrant in reds and coppers, oil-stained hands resting gently on the slab of gilded war tech she rested daintily against.

Ur-Vendit, pristine in parallel lines and perfect angles, sneering through a swathe of shining colours as numbers and cash totals ran like ivy through the window's frame.

And something new that had been being assembled along the great hall when they first entered, a half-finished window titled "Oracle" - just the fine lines of lead and a great, staring eye all that they could make out as they followed the priest irritably urging the vanguard group to hurry as they were lead to their chambers.

For the first time they had experienced, JK not only belonged, but they were envied. Their gear was decorated, armour and weapons upgraded at the Father's blessing, and the titles that came with the role were impossible to avoid, whispered in reverence by warriors who would have spat at their feet only a few years ago.

God-King's chosen, God-King's first, God-King's hand, the nods of respect passed to them by warlords like Mouthpiece in passing filled their chest with pride under the weight of its binder, and the trips back to Sanctuary became... harder.

For all they had achieved within the now monstrous in scale COV, the Raiders saw them no differently than they had when they'd first sat alone in Moxxi's. They were still a Bandit, and nothing more. JK was side-eyed, muttered about, treated like an outsider who needed to earn their keep by passing on intel they were risking their life for, all while in the back of their mind being more than aware that they could have this place raised to the ground with a damn WORD. Lilith didn't understand what it meant to be as close to Calypso as they were, that they were beginning to earn his ear.

She wasn't aware that a fucking God cared about their opinion enough to ask for it on long technical rides or when escorting him between meetings, to her, and to the rest of the Raiders, they were still simply a lost native behind a mask that was being handed scraps of decency by people better than them - and the strain of that reality was difficult to ignore. Moxxi tried her best, always there to console and remind them she valued who they were, the beautiful mind they had shared with her in tender moments and long intimate conversations over the last few years, but the insult burned in their gut still.

They weren't just Jak-Knife. They were the God King's chosen, and they were betraying someone who valued them to share internal information on Saints and departments, cashflow and raids, with people who willingly partnered with the Crimson Lance, people who just plain did not seem to understand who they were, what they had earned through sacrifice and blood shed.

But Troy? The longer they spent around Troy the more his own mask began to slip, and the harder it came to see him as any form of enemy. The blessed Father couldn't hide his weak spells or the times illness left him barely able to stand from a bodyguard who was at his side almost every waking moment, there was no way to do so regardless of how much he clearly wished there was. JK saw everything... the spasms, the fainting, heard the whistling of weak lungs when in silence next to the damaged God, saw the black circles under his eyes that the expertly applied makeup he wore could hide at a distance. He'd been aggressive about it at first, vicious and hurtful in his reactions when they'd try and assist, but over time, as they made clear that the mockery and pity he was expecting was not going to come, he'd softened. He'd thanked Jak-Knife one night as they scraped together a fire on the salt flats to chase the bitter cold away and keep their king warm.

A God had looked at them with ice blue eyes that reminded them of a face they could no longer remember, and whispered genuine appreciation for them. How could they continue to betray him. How could they hurt him for people who didn't even count JK as human?

They saw a delicate and sickly side of one of the twin God's that felt wrong to share with the raiders, that left a bad taste in their mouth to discuss with Lilith, so they simply didn't. The rationalised that the raiders did not need to know about the self-doubt or painful loss JK saw crack through Troy's facade in private, the raiders didn't need an update on how one of the twins wasn't healthy, that he could struggle sometimes to get to his feet before an audience, or would need a discreet support from the solid weight of their muscle next to his spindly frame after some events.

Lilith didn't need to know it, and as time passed, JK found they were beginning to keep secrets. Little ones at first, justified under the intel not being valuable, but the ease of witholding useful data only increased. Their position, the growing camaraderie with the COV's grunts and militia, the respect in the eyes of worshippers who looked to the Vanguard all fed into the slow realisation that their loyalty simple did not belong to the Vault Hunters, it was to Moxxi, who loved them. It was to Troy, who every day became closer to the memory of Gutpunch they'd try and visualise on lonely nights, see his crooked smile and cool eyes flicker across a face they could no longer place.

The closer JK got with the man behind the King's mask, the harder it became to give over information to the raiders that had any real tactical value...

And that had been Troy's plan, ever since the day he'd discreetly planted a tracker on them while they'd squinted against the blinding sunlight to first look into the face of a God.

#Bl3 #Borderlands #Borderlands 3 #Troy calypso #Tyreen calypso #Leech Lord #Sbsart #My hcs #My writing

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blackroseguzzi · 5 years

Text

Dead and Alive

Chapter 3

They had made it to the border by nightfall. Daryl looked around, waiting for Alpha to arrive and to make sure there wasn't more of a threat out there. He looked over at Josephine who gave him a weakened smile. He nodded, and she knew he wanted her to stay close by - especially with their history with both Alpha and Beta when they had both gone to retrieve Henry after he had ran away to save Lydia.

Daryl suddenly put down his cross bow, Michonne put down her Katana, and Josephine slowly and hesitantly put down her axe and her small hunting knife she had around her thigh.

Daryl walked over to her, placing a hand on the small of her back, then looked to Carol who was next to Josephine, staring at the necklace that used to be around Henry’s neck, now around the stake that had been impaling his severed head months before.

“You alright?” Daryl asked her, quietly. She looked up at the two of her friends and nodded slowly.

“I just need a minute,” She replied as she took off her sword and bow. Josephine nodded and her and Daryl walked back over to Michonne as they waited for Alpha.

“Heads up,” Daryl called out, and the herd of Alpha’s whisperers approached the borders.

Josephine stiffened as she watched one of the walkers take of their masks, and Alpha’s bald head appeared.

“We had one rule between our people. One Law. Stay where you are-Yet you disobey!” She spoke, her southern accent thick and sending chills through Josephine’s spine.

“Fire would have destroyed your land,” Daryl spoke out.

“Fire’s nature to burn,” Alpha responded and she made her way up to the stakes she used as land markers.

“It could have wiped out one of our communities, and we couldn't sit back and let that happen,” Michonne reacted. “You can understand that.”

“We crossed one time,” Josephine added.

“Three times,” Alpha’s head snapped towards her, staring her down and walking closer and closer to the stakes. “During the fire you walked my land. During the winter storm you walked my land, and doing the search along the river This woman and the man with the mental arm walked my land.” She pointed to Michonne, stating that she and her people were always watching.

“What did I tell you about crossing my border?” Her breathing became heavy. “It means you have to be punished,” She spoke softly, in a tone that Josephine hated.

From behind Alpha the whisperers unsheathed their knives.

“There will be no blood shed this time,” Alpha stated, looking back and forth between Josephine and Michonne

“So what do you want?” Josephine hissed, confused at this woman’s actions.

“We want land. The creek that winds into the valley, thats your new southern border,” Alpha replied in a harsh tone.

Carol spoke up now, annoyed with loosing more land that their people desperately needed. “That will cut off our hunting grounds! We don't have to stand here and listen to this-.”

She was cut off by Michonne shouting her name. Alpha walked closer to Carol now, breaking eye contact with Josephine.

“Listen to this… this what?” Alpha asked quickly.

“TO THIS BULLSHIT,” Carol spat back, annoyed and at her final straw with the people who had killed her son.

“Come on. We’re done,” Daryl spoke up, walking towards Carol, trying to pull her away from the situation that was erupting in front of them.

“Not until this one lowers her eyes to my feet,” Alpha called out in that low southern draw.

Josephine looked back and forth between Carol and Alpha.

“You should fear me,” Alpha whispered.

“I don’t,” Carol replied harshly. “ I look at you and feel nothing at all.”

“Is that right?” Alpha asked, “That blonde boy screamed you name right before we took his head,” Alpha spoke. The blood in Josephine’s body ran cold and she felt as though she was moving in slow motion as she watched Carol draw a pistol from the waist of her pants and drag it to Alpha, but as she shot her weapon Daryl had lunged forward, pushing her hand down so that the bullet entered the hard earth below them.

Carol struggled against Daryl’s hold and Josephine grabbed the gun from her hand and placed it on the ground below.

“I apologize for my friend. We haven't slept, and you know what she lost.” Michonne whispered to Alpha, not wanting any more fighting to happen tonight.

Alpha’s eyes peeled from Michonne back to Carol, who was now staring right back at her with cold eyes.

“I forgive you. Mother to mother,” came Alpha’s response “this is my land now, you better run.”

“Come on, come on, lets go” Daryl’s calm voice snapped Josephine out of her state, as they made their way briskly back to the forest. Josephine made it a point to stay close to Carol, not wanting anymore outburst that could cost them. She was angry at her for the risk she had just taken, but she couldn't fault her friend for she had lost her son to the evil woman who stood before them moments ago.

They made it to their new border, and decided to take a rest for a bit before heading back home. They needed a few moments of relaxation after the intense few days they had endured.

Josephine handed Daryl a kettle of warm water, urging him to take it to nourish the others as she ventured off to speak with Carol about what had happened. She knew Michonne wanted to, but this was Josephine’s oldest friend. Someone she had grown to love and watch grow. She wished if her mother was still alive she would have gained a voice like Carol had after losing it from what they both had suffered at the hands of their husbands.

Josephine walked up to Carol who was picking at bark from a tree, deep in thought.

“Hey, I can’t imagine what you're going through,” She spoke softly, trying to understand.

“The bitch has to die,” Carol responded, walking past her and then past Daryl who was now walking towards Josephine.

“She aint been the same since she got off that boat,” Daryl voice was thick in the night air. “Maybe she was better off on it. Found some peace, you know?”

“Hey, she belongs with us,” Josephine pushed a strand of hair off her face and sighed, looking into the woods where Carol had ran off to.

“She ain’t been sleeping either, She’s out all night looking for them, I can hear her leave the house from our bedroom late in the night, don’t come back ’til after sunrise.” Daryl confessed to Josephine.

“Well, we just got to let her grieve. I can’t imagine what she is going through especially after… after Sophia,” Josephine whispered. She watched Daryl’s head hang at the mention of the little girl had had so desperately tried to find.

“You’re right, can’t imagine how she feels,” Daryl whispered back, playing with top of the kettle anxiously.

“I don’t know how Michonne or anyone does it. Having kids in this world, it’s hard enough worrying about yourself out here,” Josephine responded.

She had thought a lot about having children after seeing Daryl with Judith when she was first born, but so much had happened since then, and the thought of children suddenly terrified her. She had lost Carl, and that sting was still strong. She worried about Judith and RJ almost all of the time and those kids were not her own. She couldn't imagine the thoughts going through Rosita’s head with an infant daughter. As much as she would love to see Daryl holding their own child in his arms, and feeling that sense of family that she had always thought wasn't possible for her, it just didn't feel right for them. Not yet.

“Yeah,” Daryl sounded a bit disappointed at her statement about children, knowing that the idea of bringing a little human both a mixture of himself and Josephine wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. He used to always worry that he would end up like his father if he ever had children, but this new life and his entire new family had made him realize he had never been like him and he never would be.

Suddenly in the distance a shot rang out in the woods, fearing Carol’s safety Josephine and Daryl both ran towards the echoing sound of a gunshot.

“What happened,” Daryl called out as he approached Carol and helped her off the ground. Michonne and the others followed closely behind.

“Whisperers.Three of them,” Carol explained in a rush. Josephine looked her over, asking if she as okay, she nodded while Michonne called out orders to capture whoever they find, and not to kill them.

“Josephine!” Daryl yelled as he tried his hardest to keep up with Carol who was now getting deeper and deeper into the dark woods on a mission.

They made it pretty far into the woods before stopping. They hadn't found a single whisperer or any signs of them. Michonne called over the walkie that they would meet the others at the creek.

Josephine’s eyes narrowed as she watched Carol pop a small white pill into her mouth. She looked to Daryl who was walking back over from searching the last part of the woods.

“No signs of them anywhere, no traces, tracts… nothing,” Michonne stated, her eyes not leaving Carol’s.

“Are you sure you saw three?” Josephine asked her friend, crossing her arms in front of herself.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Carol responded coldly.

“How long you been taking those pills?” Josephine questioned further, she didn't want to be harsh, but she was starting to become worried about Carol, and her strange actions since she came off that boat.

“Since I got back,” Carol replied, her tone a lot more annoyed this time. “They’re like coffee.” She looked to Michonne, then to Daryl. Josephine knew Carol was not impressed by her questioning her about the pills she had been taking.

“We cant stay here!” Carol lashed out, angry that they hadn't found the whisperers that she stated she had clearly seen.

“Fine. We find a place with some walls, hold up for a bit, try get some sleep,” Daryl answered his friend and started walking forward and the others followed closely behind.

They met back up with the others by the creek, explaining their plan to hold up fort for a night in the nearest place with walls. They walked for about two miles before finding an old run down academy.

Josephine slowly opened the door, the sound of creaking echoed through the building. They shined their flashlights in all of the rooms, making sure it was cleared out and that no walkers were inside.

“It’s clear,” Daryl whispered to Josephine as she approached him with her flashlight shining through the hallway. She nodded and pointed her flashlight behind her to Carol who was looking at an old text book.

“Hey!” She hissed out, making Carol jump a bit and follow her eyes to Josephine’s voice “come on.”

Carol threw the book back onto the ground and followed Josephine and Daryl.

“I’ll take first watch,” Carol replied, moving into an empty room. Josephine looked to Daryl who nodded, his way of saying it was okay for her to follow Carol and to watch out for their friend who was clearing going through something.

Josephine walked over just as Carol popped another pill into her mouth. She stood hovering over Carol for a second- making her presence known. She finally slung her axe off her shoulder and set it against the wall, then she carefully took off her brown jacket and sat down across from her friend.

“What?” Carol asked, her tone of voice still annoyed. She knew Josephine was up to something, worried or cautious of how Carol had been acting.

“Nah, I was just thinking about my life before all this,” Josephine chuckled a bit at the thought of who she used to be and who she was now. The vast difference amusing her slightly.

“I was nothin”. Moved around a lot, disappointed my family a lot. I used to tell Rick I was staying at hotels for work, but really I was just stuck up at motels because I had no other place to go- I never was one to feel whole when I was settled in one place, but then again I don’t think I’d never known what feelin’ whole felt like in the first place.” Josephine sighed at the ghostly memory of herself.

“I used to drive all hours of the night, even when it was pitch black outside.This one time, I was driving through Kentucky on I-66, and I see this girl on side of the road. I swear to you it looked like she was crying. When I got closer, this girl steps right into the freeway- right in front of my truck. I slam on the brakes, I’m freaking out I mean,” Josephine stops for a second, taking in her memory and she pressed her lips together for a second. She looks to Carol, who’s now invested in this story.

“I call the PD, I get out and look for her and there aint nothing there. I look under the cab, the tires, no dent in the grill, no blood… no nothing.”

“How is that possible?” Carol asks, in shock of the girl’s story.

“There was no girl,” Josephine answered, her voice low and quiet. She started playing with the hem of her shirt. “I never slept much, sometimes I’d be hopped up on something to make me stay up for 24 hours or more. Sometimes I just couldn't sleep, feeling restless and afraid of the bad dreams. See, sometimes when you stay up that long you start seeing things.”

“Josephine, I’m not some drug addict runaway, okay.” Carol’s words cut deep at Josephine, and suddenly Jo could tell Carol didn't mean the harsh words that had just spilled from her mouth. “Not that you were…sorry,” Carol finished in a low whisper. She looked away from Josephine who’s eyes cut through her.

“No, you’re right. But it doesn't mean I’m wrong though.” Josephine finished, getting up from her seat on the floor and brushing off her hands on her knees just as the kitchen timer goes off, signaling that Carols shift was over

Carol reaches in her pocket, Josephine could hear the pills rattling around.

“Don’t take that,” Josephine pleaded. Her voice harsh and demanding. Kind words were not going to make Carol see what she was doing to herself.

Carol didn't listen, and stuffed the last pill in her mouth before throwing the bottle across the room.

“You need to sleep,” Josephine stated.

“I can’t,” Carol responded.

“why’s that? Bad dreams?” Josephine questioned, but she didn't stay for the response, knowing that Carol needed a little while to figure that question out herself.

Josephine walked back into the room where the others lay asleep, Daryl huddled in the next corner picking at thumbnail as he sat up against the wall, obviously waiting for Carol or Josephine to come back out.

He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

@ly--canthrope @nikki082489

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl the walking dead #daryl dixon x oc #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fanfiction

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cutesuki--bakugou · 6 years

Text

Shameful

Pairing: Bakugou x Koge (OC)

Koge’s Tag

Rating: Teen, for cursing and suggestive conversation

Word Count: 4,309

Me 3:09 PM: Hey love, I just got off the train. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes, okay?

Cutesuki 3:11 PM: ok. just show the guard at the door your id, theyll let you in.

Me 3:11 PM: What, they don’t know who I am by now? （＾ｖ＾）

Cutesuki 3:12 PM: utsuro theyre just following my rules. you could be a shapeshifter coming to try and kill me.

Me 3:12 PM: Ooh, true. (¬‿¬) But what if I have a fake ID, too?

Cutesuki 3:14 PM: they can tell. ill order you an access badge.

Me 3:15 PM: So I can come whenever I want?! (⊙ᗜ⊙)

Cutesuki 3:15 PM: not if you act like that you cant.

Me 3:16 PM: Oh, sorry. I’ll be stoic. (・∀・) And mean. All your employees will hate me.

Cutesuki 3:16 PM: probably

Me 3:17 PM: Uh, I was joking! (ｰｰ;)

Cutesuki 3:17 PM: lol

Koge gave a small roll of her eyes, placing her phone back into her jacket pocket. The chill of the mid winter air fogged her breath, making her feel like she was walking through clouds. Why the weather decided to get so awful on her day off was beyond her, but she hated it. Not only was it her day off, she also had special plans that involved a lot of walking. The act of walking isn’t want got to her, but the fact that it was so cold her nose felt like it was frozen solid did. Even though she was wrapped head to toe in warm clothing, the petite woman felt like an icicle, and the thought of stopping at an approaching coffee shop peaked her interest.

Hm, coffee sounds good, she thought to herself. I wonder if Katsuki would want something. It’s a bit late in the afternoon, but he’s probably worn out. I’ll get him one.

Ducking into the shop, Koge got herself a nice hot cup of straight black coffee and Bakugou his odd mixture of what he always preferred. The man liked spicy coffee, which really wasn’t all that much of a surprise to her, though she couldn’t help but pick on him for his enjoyment of it. There was always the retaliation that she was a freak for liking straight black coffee, which was just as bitter as her personality.

‘That’s okay,’ Koge would always tell him, sly grin on her face. ‘You’re married to me, so you must like my bitter personality.’

Sipping on the hot bitterness from her cup, Koge continued down the sidewalk after her purchase, her body warmed by the drink. She wasn’t the only one to relish in the joy, however, as there was a series of movements from her swollen abdomen. “Oof, chill out there, girl.” Koge whispered quietly to the frozen air. “You always get way too excited when I drink coffee.” Rounding a corner, Koge’s gaze was pulled towards the large building across the street at the end of the block.

Damn, it was ugly. A huge, industrial style with very few windows, and it almost made Koge think that it had popped right out of a post-apocalyptic movie. The thing looked like it could withstand a bomb, with thick dark grey concrete, pipes and steel decorating the exterior. Yes, it was architecturally brilliant, but that didn’t make Koge thing it was any less ugly. Still, it was noticeable, recognizable and marketed perfectly for who worked inside. This had been the first time she had seen this new building, as her lover had just finished construction of this new firm headquarters and moved his entire team just a week ago.

After carefully crossing the street, Koge made her way to what she assumed was the entrance, noticing the two guards standing outside chatting. They seemed quite lax, something that Koge knew Bakugou might snap at them about, but she decided to keep it to herself. Conversation coming to a halt as she approached, one guard whom she was familiar with gave her a welcoming smile. Although this middle aged man had a kind face, Koge had seen him take down people with no mercy or hesitation. She liked him enough, and if Bakugou trusted him, then she could as well.

“Hello, Koge! Come to see the new building, eh?” He held out his hand, not in a way to shake hands, but was silently asking for her ID. Koge nodded, handing both of the coffee cups out towards the other guard, who took them from her. “Hold those, please? And yeah, it’s finally my day off so I can come see it.” After digging through her pocket, she removed her wallet and fished out her ID, giving it to the waiting man before her. He took it, turning on a small flashlight and shining it on the plastic.

“How’s the kiddo?”

“Ah, he’s with his grandparents today. The other is still latched to me.” Koge patted her swollen belly gently, waiting patiently for the return of her ID. With a small chuckle, the guard handed it back to her, turning off his flashlight and placing it back into his pocket. “Not for too much longer. Head on in, I think he’s in his office on the top floor. If not his secretary will tell you.” While Koge put her ID away, he flashed a badge to a sensor on the wall, the large glass doors sliding open with a beep. Koge took her coffee back, heading inside after thanking the two men.

Ooh, secretary. How spoiled. But, he deserves it. He’s worked so hard to get to this point, and so quickly, too. He’s only twenty-seven and his hero firm has grown this huge! I’m so proud of him.

Much to her surprise, the inside of the building was a much more modern industrial style than the outside, with polished concrete and stylish brick walls. The furniture in the lobby matched the style, with red, orange and army green accents. How cute, he sure did decide to keep to his brand. I love it.

After a quick trip up the elevator, Koge followed the signs to Bakugou’s office. Before she could get in, she found she had to stop at a large desk, with three women sitting behind it, all doing computer work. Only gaining the attention of one of them when she approached the desk, she had to stand up on her toes to see the woman better. “Hi, I’m here to see Katsuki?”

The woman had visible surprise on her face at the use of Bakugou’s first name, cocking her head to the side a bit. “I’m sorry, but he’s in a meeting at this time with his Public Relations Manager. Were you… Did you have a meeting with him as well?”

Koge felt a twinge of annoyance at the mention of the PR person, giving a small cough to clear her throat. “I’m his wife. He’s expecting me.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, but--”

“Yeah, no buts. Buzz me in, please.” Koge started towards the large doors that she assumed were the entrance, stopping at them when they still did not open. She glared over her shoulder at the women, who were glancing between themselves in confusion. “Buzz me in. Believe me, he likes me a lot more than caring about the slight inconvenience it would take to replace you.”

The woman that had spoken to her first gave a small cough to clear her throat, trying to stay firm. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but his Public Relations Manager stated that they should not be disturbed.”

Koge gave an annoyed click of her tongue. “I’m sure she did. You’re really going to fight with me on this one, huh?” Placing both cups of coffee down on a small decorative table that rested at the edge of the doors, she pulled out her phone.

Me 3:32 PM: Your little brats out here won’t let me in. They say your PR lady told them to not let anyone in.

Within the minute, the doors opened, an obviously annoyed Bakugou standing in the doorway. His glare was immediately locked on the women at the desk, who shifted about nervously in their chairs. The main one spoke up, quickly standing to show him respect. “I-I’m sorry, sir, it’s just that Ms. Ito--”

“I don’t care what she said. I gave you permission to let this woman in, did I not?” Bakugou approached Koge, noticing the coffee and picking it up for her. “Yours?” He addressed her directly, his expression softening. Koge smiled, giving a small nod. “And yours.”

The woman at the desk he had addressed gave a low bow. “I’m sorry, Sir! It won’t happen again!” Bakugou started back through the large doors, Koge at his heels. “We’ll discuss it later.” Koge didn’t have time to see the reactions of the women as the doors snapped shut behind them, looking up at her lover curiously. “Are they new?”

Bakugou sighed, giving a nod as they made their way down a small hallway, which displayed his awards, trophies, paper certificates and permits. “Yes. Well, a few months at least. But they are scared of Ito. Everyone here thinks she’s vice president or some shit when she’s literally only the PR person. Irritates me.” In his frustration, he brought up one of the cups of coffee, taking a sip before Koge could tell him it was the wrong one. The cringe that crossed his features as he swallowed the bitter black water made her giggle, and he quickly handed the cup to her. “Ugh, fuck that shit is gross!”

Laughing, Koge took the cup, watching as he downed a large gulp of his coffee to rid himself of the taste. “Aw, it is not. Yours is the one that’s gross.” Bakugou shook his head, giving a satisfied hum. “No way, it’s good. Thanks.” He held the ID that hung around his neck up to a sensor, the door opening for them. Once open, Koge’s gaze immediately landed on the obviously flustered woman that stood beside a large dry erase board, impatiently tapping her foot.

Koge couldn’t believe how much she wanted to kick this womans ass, just from looking at her. Sure, she knew that anyone who worked so directly with Bakugou needed to be strong willed and stubborn, but this woman wasn’t just that. She truly was the definition of a bitch.

“Sir, please, this really can’t wait.” Ito addressed Bakugou the instant he returned, pointing a marker to the board to bring attention to her writing. “I need you to approve these appointments so that I can get them paid for and scheduled.” Bakugou sighed, placing his coffee down on his desk before glaring at the annoying white board that he hated. “Why do you have to bring that stupid board in here? I hate looking at things on it, why can’t you just give it to me digitally.”

“This is the best way for me to explain myself to you, and I can easily put posters or flyers on the back side for you to see. It’s not the same when looking at them digitally.” The woman adjusted her glasses, tapping the board with her marker. “Just come read these ideas and let me know what you think.”

Koge read the information on the board as she removed her outer layers of clothing, setting them down on a couch against the wall. “He said that he would prefer the information digitally. Don’t you think you should listen to your boss?” Ito shot a sharp glare at her, tapping her nails against the plastic of the marker in her hand. “I know what works best for him, I’ve been doing this job for ten years, three of them being for this firm. I’d appreciate you keeping your comments to yourself.”

Bakugou shared a glance with Koge that told her to keep it down, to which she begrudgingly agreed with a huff. Arms crossing over her chest, she let them rest on her swollen belly, making her way closer to Bakugou’s desk as he read aloud what was on the board.

“Poster series… Blankets and shit…. More magazine stuff? No--” Bakugou shook his head, moving around the desk to his chair. “After the last magazine shoot, I don’t want to do that shit again.” He pulled the chair out from under the desk, motioning for Koge to sit. She did so happily, leaning back in the plush leather that comfortably supported her aching back. “Oh god, that last magazine thing was terrible! When they were done it didn’t even look like him.” Koge reached up to take his hand gently, which he allowed. “He looked better in the one before that, but… It was so saucy we couldn’t even show our son, who has been excited that his dad is in magazines since he knew what they were.”

Ito cleared her throat, removing Koge’s chance to speak again. “The last magazine was a huge hit. Another series is in serious demand, the public want more of that content.” Koge narrowed her eyes, a bit suspicious of this. “The public… or women? You do realize that Katsuki’s main demographic is teenage and young adult males, right?”

“The men go for the interviews and the women go for the pictures. If it makes money and doesn’t ruin his image, than it works.” Ito grabbed the top of the whiteboard, pulling it down so that the other side was visible. Koge let out a sharp laugh, annoyed and amused at the mock posters and photographs taped to the board. “Doesn’t ruin his image? Do you even realize how those types of things make him look?” With quite a bit of effort, she stood, waddling her way towards the board to see the images better.

Bakugou took her place in the chair, rubbing his temple. “Koge, it’s alright, it does work.” With a shake of her head, his lover pointed to one of the posters that had him displayed in a provocative pose, with just his mask on as the image stopped right at his hips. “No. This doesn’t even look like you at all. Look how skinny! You’re not thin like that.”

“What? I’m not fat—“

“That’s not what I’m saying! You’re… you’re buff Katsuki, you’re not a rail like this. I’m not saying you’re fat. But you’re body doesn’t look like this.” Koge looked up at Ito, the woman towering over her. “Why do you let them photoshop him so much?”

Ito gave a small huff, looking away from Koge, as if she were an eyesore. “I have no control over what the magazine company wants to do.”

“Not true, you have to approve it, like you are now. Katsuki, you haven’t noticed that?” Koge looked over towards her husband, who looked like he was about to throw them both out. “I don’t usually give a shit. I don’t notice how much they change me, if they do.”

“They do. I don’t know why they would. This is so much better.” Koge moved her finger to another poster, of Bakugou in mid battle. “This is how he should look. All scuffed up, angry and strong. He’s not a little sissy boy.”

Ito shook her head, pointing to a number above the sexier poster. “Look at this number, it’s higher than the one for that poster. That means that this style is more sought after—“

“By that demographic. By young adult women and teenage girls.” Koge made her way back over to Bakugous desk, opening a marketing binder that rested there. “You have numbers in here I’m sure and percentages based on different groups of people…” Bakugou watched her, but didn’t intervene. “Hm, you’re right, Koge. I’m pretty sure that eighty seven percent of my fan base isn’t into that shit.”

“They’re not! They can’t be—“ Koge was cut off by Ito snatching the binder back, holding it to her chest. “That’s company data! You can’t look at this.”

“I’ll have you know she can.” Bakugou snapped back. “Who do you think helps me with numbers and making decisions? I trust her more than a room of CEO air heads any day. Show her your numbers, I’m interested in what she’s talking about.”

“But Sir—“

“Fine, then let me see them.” He held his hand out towards her, to which Ito reluctantly handed the binder over. Bakugou flipped though it for a minute as Koge came around the desk to join him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “I’m pretty positive that data is being pulled from demographic percentages depending on age, gender and location. Here, see.” Koge put an accusing finger on a chart. “Eighty seven percent of women from age sixteen to twenty three want more of that photoshop nonsense. But that age group is only thirty something percent of your fan base.”

Koge gave Ito a glance, noticing that she wasn’t going to give in to this. “I think you’re trying to cater to a group of people that doesn’t really matter all that much. Or maybe…” She placed her hand on the top of Bakugou’s head, ruffling his hair gently. “Maybe to things that you want to see, huh?” Ito’s face instantly flushed red. “What?! Who do you think you are, to say something like that to me! That is absolutely ridiculous!”

“I don’t think it is. I think you’re taking advantage of his ignorance when it comes to the marketing side of his brand. That’s why he hired you, because he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He may be smart, but he has no time to deal with that type of nonsense.” Koge moved her hand down to Bakugou’s back, a bit surprised that he was so quiet about all of this. “You say you know what’s best for him? You aren’t even listening to what he wants, what he likes, or even what the majority of his demographic wants.”

Heading back to the board, Koge pointed at the image of him in battle. “Look at this. Look at how both sexy and strong he looks. His body is completely unedited, his costume is a bit ripped in places. He’s sweaty and grungy and that glare is enough to make the ladies need to change their underwear. But that is a woman looking at it. A man, or a young boy aspiring to be a hero, would look at this and think, he looks so cool. So badass. So strong. Okay sure, some men might fight him sexy and a lot of women will find him powerful.” She shared an amused glance with her lover, who only glared at her with his ears red in embarrassment.

“You release that?” She gestured to the more sexual image, disgust crossing her features. “You’re only going to hit a small percentage of his fan base. But this?” Again, she slapped her entire palm over the more powerful poster. “You release this and you will hit everyone. Because this is sexy and powerful. If you respected him and his image, you wouldn’t be making him do the sex appeal thing.” Koge let out a long breath, feeling a bit winded from her ranting. “He might be attractive, but not in that type of way. That’s more of a pretty-boy type of thing.”

Ito shook her head, hands firmly on her hips. “I don’t agree. I think you just don’t want your husband half naked out for the world to see.” Koge sputtered an amused laugh, both hands on her stomach as the child inside wiggled about. “Listen lady, I could care less what other women see of him. Because only I get the full show. Get it? That man on the poster isn’t even my Katsuki. It’s a fake. Where are his scars? They even smoothed out some of the muscle lines to make him look less muscular!” Koge glared up at the taller women, who finally seemed on the edge of breaking.

“You have no right to come in here and criticize me for doing my job.”

“But you’re not doing your job. You know, I don’t like you.” Koge made her way back over to Bakugou, who stood and once again gave her his chair to sit, which she accepted gladly. “Ever since Katsuki hired you. For petty things at first, like at one point I was really upset that you and him were constantly going on trips. I was jealous that you got to see him all the time when I didn’t. But now, I just realize that you’re awful.” She took a sip of her coffee, glad to see that it was still warm. “It’s so obvious that you’re taking advantage of his ignorance of what needs to be done for his image. I’m not going to let you do that to him.”

Ito was red faced now, completely flustered and embarrassed at being called out. Koge didn’t care. But, she also didn’t want to cause discourse in Bakugous firm.

“But… I will admit that on the things that don’t involve him with his tits out, you do very well. The meet ‘n greets, the autographs, his book, his interviews, they’re all fantastic. So you do know how to do your job. I truly think that this is just a hiccup driven by personal desire.” Koge closed the binder in front of her, pushing it back over towards Ito, who was staring at Koge in surprise.

“You can have a crush on my husband all you want.” Koge spoke quite curt, planning on getting her point across the first time. “But you won’t have him. So if that was your goal, this little sexy series? I truly hope it stops here. Every once in a while, sure, let him model underwear for an ad because he’s got a nice butt. I won’t be quiet the next time I see him being degraded like that.” She looked up at Bakugou, who was staring down at her with intense focus. She gave him a small smile, effectively breaking him out of his daze. “Do you agree with me, Katsuki?”

Bakugou turned his crimson glare to Ito, who was standing there red faced and leaking guilt. “This is something I just didn’t even notice… I just thought it was all normal, I hear about that half and half bastard doing this shit, and even Deku.” Koge nodded, opening one of his drawers to peek into it curiously. “Mhmm, but that’s a part of their look. Of their brand. They’re pretty boys. You are raw power, Katsuki. Believe me, women find that just as attractive as your fake photoshopped abs.” She pulled out a stress ball that resembled his gauntlets, beginning to squeeze it and pass it between both hands. “I love these. Another good decision you helped make, Ito.”

Ito only gave a small nod. “I won’t let it happen again. But… these are already almost finished contracts. We can’t back out of them, now, these companies will never work with us again.” Bakugou sighed, moving to stroke Koge’s hair gently as he thought. Then, as she looked up at him, an idea crossed his mind.

“Koge. We’ve never done anything, have we?”

“Eh?” Koge felt a bit of heat rush to her cheeks, giving a small shake of her head. “N-no…” Bakugou looked back over towards Ito, nodding to motion her to come over. “Change the contacts, to do do a family shoot and interviews.” Koge took his hand, a bit of worry creasing her brow. “Are you sure? Is that safe?”

“No one knows where we live, not even the people that work here. I want to do it, with you and Matsu.” He held her hand tightly, the excited interest on his face filling Koge’s stomach with butterflies. Smiling she kissed the back of his hand. “Okay. Let’s do it, then.”

As Ito came up to take her binder, Bakugou put his hand on it, stopping her. “Make it happen, Ito. Though, we will have to discuss your behavior further. I can’t just let it go.” Ito nodded, taking her binder when Bakugou released it. “Yes, sir. I’ll have the contact sent to you digitally for review. Thank you for… not firing me right off the bat.”

“I wouldn’t want him to fire you.” Koge spoke up, catching the womans attention. “Like I said, you do your job well. All of this that he has is with your help. But you gotta stop the thirst.”

“Y-yes, Ma’am. I don’t want to be rude, but… for someone so small, you’re kind of scary.”

“I’m married to Katsuki. I have to be a little scary, right?”

“I suppose…” With another bow, the woman left with her dry erase board in tow, the wheels making an annoying squeak as they rolled. When she was finally gone, Koge sighed, turning the chair to face Bakugou. “Holy shit, Katsuki, what was that creature.”

Bakugou scoffed, leaning over the chair a bit, gripping the arm rests for support. “Utsuro, that is what is known as a woman with a huge crush on the big boss who’s married and is still trying to get into his pants.”

“She’s icky. I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”

“You were right, though. Thanks.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head, moving his hands to caress her belly. “How’s she?” Koge placed her hands over his, smile crossing her lips. “She’s great, Katsuki. She’s been a little wiggly thing all day, though.” Bakugou nodded, able to feel the child against his palms. “It’s because you’re all worked up. How about a tour?”

“I’d like that, Katsuki. After a kiss. Or two.”

“Or ten.”

“You know me too well.”

#bnha writing blog #bnha scenarios #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x oc #bnha fanfiction #bnha #my hero academia #fanfiction #oc #original character #koge #cutesuki scenarios #personal writing

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