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shibaraki · 19 days

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OUT OF MY HEAD, HALF BURSTING ┊ MIDORIYA IZUKU

synopsis: japan’s sweetheart and saviour is in a quirk induced coma. you’re the only one that can bring him back.

tags: GN reader, post canon au, pro hero deku, quirk accidents, fluff + angst, hospitalisation, mutual pining, intimacy, technically doctor/patient but they know each other, friends to lovers, reader has quirk (‘dream walker’), memory/dream sharing, referenced depression, getting together, kissing, cheesy idc idc

wc: 5.2K

In your years wading through patients' memories, you’ve found that people have the most uncanny ability to resign themselves to their fate. You’ve wondered time and time again whether it’s instinctive to ruin things—if humans couldn’t help but stumble and make a mess of the things around them.

You recall that thought process now with a weary sigh, as your eyes skim over the patient's name for the tenth time in as many seconds. Midoriya Izuku.

“Well? Are you gonna do it or not?”

You’ve been staring at the medical file for long enough that an uncomfortable silence has dawned upon your office. Two weeks prior, a villain named Catatonic used her quirk to force Deku into a comatose state, that which he has yet to wake from. Even after the liberal use of quirk inhibitors, countless visits from Eraserhead and the administration of various stimulants, Deku would not stir. Realistically he should’ve roused from the coma naturally as soon as the quirk was cancelled. But he hadn’t, and his doctors can only assume it’s because he can’t, or refuses to.

Thus the case in your lap. A last resort.

“I’ll do it,” you intoned, thumb flicking at the corner of the manila folder. There’s already a deep crease there. The file itself is the heaviest you’ve ever had in your hands. Dense in a way that makes you ache. You and Deku are good friends—the kind of friendship that forms mainly because you frequent the same places. That place in particular being the hospital, except you were there to work, and he was often wandering the hallways listlessly to burn off the dregs of whatever sedatives he’d taken or visiting with patients.

Awkward small talk eventually blossomed into real, fulfilling conversations, and you started to like him, a lot more than you should. You kept the memory of his small, sincere smile close to your chest; nothing like that dazzling grin he wore on duty, it was softer, something private, and you relished being on the receiving end of it.

He was skilled at talking around his injuries. Sometimes if you felt especially bone-weary after a shift you’d be so relieved to see him that you forgot to ask. That sits with you. Deku is a hero. A good one, the best one. He’s brilliant at what he does—keeping people safe, protecting them from harm. In the entirety of his career, it appears he rarely, if ever, turned that care and consideration onto himself. You’re not a licensed therapist, and barely a doctor. Still you contemplate his medical history with a cold sense of regret.

“You realise there’s a large possibility I’ll end up seeing a lot of confidential stuff while I’m in there”.

“Don’t care. S’not like you can tell anyone”.

“I don’t think you understand how invasive this will be. I’ll see personal things. Private things, Bakugo. He won’t be happy”.

“Don’t care. If he doesn’t like it then maybe he should fuckin’ wake up”.

“This might not work, you know,” you finish tiredly.

Bakugo arches his brow at that. Despite the shadows under his eyes there’s no defeated slope to his shoulders, only a fierce scowl. “Either you can do it or you can’t,” he says, voice unsteady as if reeling between rationality and outright aggression. “You’re supposed to be the best at what you do”.

“I am the best at what I do, Bakugo. I can promise you I’ll find him”.

“Then what’s the damn problem?”

The file feels heavier. It feels like a foregone conclusion. You swallow, your throat dry. You don’t bother attempting a smile. You’ve lost the will to maintain your professional veneer.

“I can’t promise he’ll want to come back”.

Dream walker.

At twelve years old you thought it made your quirk sound whimsical, and gentle, and not at all the invasive thing that it actually is. After all, your reach didn’t end only at dreams. You were able to project your consciousness into another’s mind if it pleased you, parse through every memory, ambition, fantasy, trauma and fear, and manipulate them however you liked. Back when your control was non-existent you would drift into people’s heads whenever you slept like some wayward soul and saw far too much far too young.

The need to understand yourself and your quirk is what drove you to studying medicine. Neuropsychology, mainly. You carved meditative techniques into the very recesses of your own brain and learned to keep your consciousness tightly moored but had no real ambition beyond that. After the war and the complete upheaval and reform of hero society, it was difficult to find your place.

Until Okumura Yukiko.

At the small age of eight, Yukiko fell under the effects of a severe nightmare quirk, and despite the quirk being canceled she couldn’t wake up naturally. You had carefully walked through the delicate threads that made up her young mindscape—quirk-infested by formless shadows with knife-sharp teeth and worse, eerie figures that wore the appearance of her father—you found her trembling inside her mothers figmental wardrobe, took her hand, and guided her out.

When you came to she was curled up in the swaddle of your arms, trembling still, but awake. Her timid incantations ring true in your ears even now. Those tiny little thank you, thank you, thank you’s inspired the person you are today. Not quite a doctor, or a therapist. A specialist for special cases.

Something in your gut told you that traipsing into Midoriya Izuku’s mind wouldn’t be simple. That it would permanently change things. This isn’t some stranger, or a patient you’d never cross paths with again. He’s important to you in a way others aren’t.

Your hand hovers over his face, fingertips brushing his temple. You push your fingers into his thick green hair, rich in colour and soft, no knots to catch on your knuckles. His friends have been visiting in shifts, keeping him comfortable and presentable.

Bakugo had managed to keep the Hero Commission at bay for the time being, but if you came back without Midoriya tomorrow there would be far more than one scowling man looming in your office. Though the possibility left a bad taste in your mouth you can admit, in the privacy of your thoughts, that you’ve contemplated prolonging his recovery for the sake of allowing Midoriya rest. There must be something keeping him under, his genuine reluctance or worse; you’ve been reassured repeatedly of All for One’s death and the absence of the previous quirk holders but it’s best to exercise vigilance.

Midoriya does not react, not even a twitch of his nose, but there’s a flutter beneath his eyelids and a sleepy-sweet warmth to him that has you smiling, fond. Tucking your feet around the legs of your chair, you scoot it forward and bend closer, elbows resting on the edge of the hospital bed. “I’m not sure you can hear me in there. Maybe not. But I hope you won’t hate me for this,” you tell him.

Midoriya’s face remains serene as ever—more so than you can remember. It makes you wonder how much pain and discomfort he’s been hiding throughout your interactions. The tension has been sapped from his expression, lashes fanning over his cheeks. You’re close enough to count each individual freckle. Lightly, your thumb taps the space between his brows. “There are a lot of people out here that love you. They’re waiting for you to wake up, so I’ll have to have a look around your head a bit. Okay?”

Nothing. Heartbeat monitor pulsing a healthy rhythm, broad chest rising and falling, Midoriya continues to sleep. You sigh and cast a final glance around the private hospital room. The clock reads 18:22. Outside the window you see a single cloud, wispy as a dandelion, slowly disintegrate across the dusky sky. You make a cradle with your arm, head resting in the crook while you take Midoriya’s hand and try to relax. Anticipation turns in your gut. Years of experience aside, you’ve never really acclimated to the feeling of that first step into another’s subconscious.

Pressure gathers inside your skull as your quirk activates. You inhale a quick, wounded breath at the sensation. Your eyes roll back, vision swallowed by abrupt darkness, and you jerk against the distinct sensation of falling as your stomach roils. You’re overwhelmed by a cacophony of images and sounds—a determination that happiness would come, then moored to the burden of expectation, any optimism muffled under exhaustion and pain, replaced swiftly by a sense of discontent, grief and regret that swelled over time.

And then everything stops.

Your arms feel empty. Your chest feels hungry. You ache with it, the disquieting loneliness. Fog leaks into the memory, surroundings concealed beneath a thick mist. Behind you is a small pond. There’s a notebook soaking in the water. The koi are mouthing curiously at the weathered corners, faint black tendrils of ink curling off the charred pages. Scrawled boldly across the top is ‘Hero Analysis for The Future: No. 13’. Your strikingly young reflection ripples as you plunge your hand in and fish it out, holding it at arm's length as you shake the excess away.

Sufficiently less soaked, you draw the notebook to your front and carefully turn the cover to read the first page. You can feel the slight indentations on the back where a pen has been pressed hard enough to score the words through the page. Written inside, smudged but undeniable, is Midoriya Izuku’s name.

“Uh—excuse me…” a shaky, pitched voice comes from behind you, belonging to a very familiar pair of teary eyes. Midoriya is not just small, he’s scrawny. His hair is longer, unable to decide on which direction it wants to grow, and his middle school uniform is slightly ill-fitting, as though his mother bought it a size bigger for longevity. He ducks into the higher collar to hide his reddened face when you look at him.

The urge to bundle him up and hide him from the world is fierce. The situation is odd, but you offer a smile and his blush worsens. “Is this yours?” you ask, holding up the notebook. You try not to grimace at your own childlike voice. Midoriya nods frantically. His hands flex around the straps of his backpack. Smaller than the broad palms you’re familiar with, neither scarred nor crooked, trembling where they motion to clasp around the notebook. Your fingers brush and he attempts to swallow the yelp that bubbles in his throat.

“Thank you,” he stammers, pressing the notebook flat to his own chest. Midoriya swallows. His gaze never strays from you, growing brighter with each passing second as the idea in his head takes shape.

“Do you go to school here?”

“Oh,” you blink and the shadows have elongated. The pond is now hugging a school building. You recognise it despite never having seen it before. Aldera Junior High. “I don't,” you answer, sounding sorry. He predictably deflates. “I live close by, though!”

Midoriya perks up again. He shifts his weight between each foot. Red faced and unsteady, he quietly asks, “Do you think we could be friends?”

Your mouth slacks a bit, answers dying in your throat. You look down at your hands, palms upturned and unblemished. The dappled sunlight passes through your incorporeal form. Interaction with anything aside from the true patient during your work is incredibly rare though not entirely unfounded; people who daydream in vivid detail or ruminate chronically on old regrets usually had false memories in excess. Their minds seem to naturally meld around your intrusion, but they never went so far as to seamlessly incorporate you. Which can only mean one thing.

You fit because Midoriya has imagined this numerous times before—befriending you as a child.

Before you can respond you’re being dragged abruptly into a memory, the echo of a blinding flash of pain rippling through you. A reflexive gasp has your chest heaving and you curse at your lack of control. There’s barely a shard of light. Behind you is a hard, jagged surface but below is loose, uprooted. Attempts to move are futile, and agonising. You slump into the displaced rubble, silt and icy embrace, and listen. From above there is only a haunting silence but only a few feet ahead you hear muffled crying and Bakugo’s strangely tinny voice.

Your vision adjusts in increments, from pure darkness to a soft outlined blob to a comfortingly familiar silhouette. Midoriya is poised like an Atlantean statue, holding up the creaking structure and keeping it from crushing the young girl cowered in front of him.

Another wave of pain washes over you as the rubble groans. Midoriya bites back a whimper. His body is sinew and bone pulled taut, skin stretched over a drum. Everything seemed to swell dramatically around him.

“We’re almost there, kid. Two minutes,” Bakugo’s voice spills jarringly from the bulky earpiece hugging Midoriya’s ear. “Now look at Deku for me. You lookin’?” the young girl does as he commands. You see her trepidation falter at the easy smile Deku is wearing. “Bet he’s got a big dumb grin on his face right now, yeah?”

“Y—yeah,” she echoes, clutching the dirtied hem of her dress.

“You think he’d be smiling if there was anythin’ to be scared of?”

Her shoulders slant, the tension released, and she offers a tremulous smile of her own, “No”.

But you can feel, quite viscerally, how scared Deku was in that moment. The nauseating pain in his arms has dwindled into numbness and he daren’t spare himself more than the occasional shallow breath, as if the bloating of his lungs alone might disrupt his balance. Not once does his smile falter.

The surroundings warp again. You struggle against the whiplash, flung unwillingly into another memory. Breath forced from your lungs, the echo of Izuku’s pain dissipates in a blink and you land on unsteady feet, coughing and spluttering in the middle of an eclectic café covered in tinsel.

A sign written in cursive above the chalkboard menu reads ‘Mean Mug’. Melodious Christmas music plays quietly overhead, and the bell above the door is soft enough to get lost in the smooth notes. You’re cocooned by heat and met with bold patterned wallpaper. The unifying palette seems to be warm-toned colours; red, orange and brown come together amidst the mismatched decor to create a cosy atmosphere.

A half heartedly disguised Midoriya shuffles awkwardly by the counter, looking up at the door with trepidation every time the bell chimes to signal another customer. He grins once Uravity arrives in a casual disguise of her own, eyes still bright beneath the shadow of his cap.

They order and settle in a quaint alcove away from the windows and any prying eyes. Neither hero notices your presence as you seat yourself at their table and listen to their conversation. There are things you don’t understand. Code words to be used when discussing sensitive matters outside of their agencies. Inside jokes that you weren’t there for. But most curious of all is the knowing look on Uraraka’s face when Midoriya mentions that he saw you at the hospital that day.

“You’re hopeless, Deku-kun,” she says, as fond as she is amused. “What was your excuse this time?”

Midoriya clears his throat. He grips his cup, pressing until his knuckles turn white. It draws your attention to the thin cast splinting his ring and middle fingers together. “I broke my fingers sparring with Kirishima”.

You remember that, though too entrenched in his memory to attempt receding into yours for details.

“So you leapt halfway across the city to have them stuck together despite the fact that your agency has an on-site infirmary,” Uraraka’s hair falls in a gentle swoop beneath her jaw as she laughs. Midoriya shrinks into himself ever so slightly and her eyes soften. She pokes at his forearm. “C’mon Deku—why haven’t you asked yet? Do you really think you’ll get rejected?”

Glancing back and forth between them, your heart beats a tattoo across the inside of your ribs. You feel as if you’ve both missed something quite important and heard too much. You push your chair backwards and fall away from the table, and the memory, before Midoriya can respond.

With renewed determination—and heat rising to your cheeks—you reign in your quirk, steering cautiously through Midoriya’s subconscious mind as you should’ve in the first place. Images flicker in and around your periphery, each as desperate to draw you in as the last.

You see Midoriya crying, bleeding, lashing out in anger. You see him in a sterilised room, lulled by monotonous beeps, flesh stitched back together. You hear the doctor's voices coalesce into white noise. You watch as he’s handed crudely drawn thank you cards, coffee-stained police reports and thick manila envelopes marked as confidential in large red letters.

You turn away as Eraserhead approaches, a solemn expression, a quiet clink accompanying his footsteps, unnaturally heavy to one side, a young girl with silver hair following right behind him.

Your heart leaps to your throat when he screams in agony. You look down. There’s blood running down the street in rivulets, skin coming apart like wet paper.

You close your eyes. Next you risk a glance All Might is there, thinner than ever. He’s sitting in a wheelchair by a large window swaddled in a thick knitted blanket, watching over the city, smiling.

You turn away, feeling a pang of grief. Midoriya is expressionless, examining his battered body in the mirror, condensation still lingering on the glass, tendrils of heat curling upward as the shower drain gurgles.

Then he’s in a dark room bringing a stranger's hand to his mouth, kissing the centre of their palm, drawing the finger into his kiss-bitten mouth and sucking with a hazy gleam in his eyes.

It’s overwhelming. You stumble and suddenly Shouto is eating across from Izuku. He brings his chopsticks to his lips, noodles hung limp between them. “It’s obvious you like each other. You should just confess,” he says before shovelling his food.

Too private. You turn on your heel and find a patient of yours on the bed, unresponsive. Izuku is beside you, muttering under his breath, thumb pressed to the shadow beneath his lip. He reaches back to brush your wrist and offers a tentative touch of reassurance. You watch yourself lean against him for a moment and then retreat, grateful for his consideration, unneeding of it, and desperately wanting it, all at once.

The scene ripples violently. A reporter is staring up at Izuku with sparkling eyes. Her hair cycles through an array of colours as she shakes with excitement. “It’s amazing, Deku-san,” she insists. “For your spirit to be so heroic that it physically steers your body… that’s special!”

Izuku conceded with a strained laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. You feel how his stomach knots. “I used to think so too,” he says, sounding far away.

It’s the middle of the night somewhere when your search finally comes to a halt. You find you’ve landed on an empty street, in that dense, heavy darkness that makes you feel like the only person in the world who’s awake. There’s a tall residential building hugging the pavement. Intuitively, you know this is where Izuku lives.

Your footsteps are made heavy by Izuku’s lingering hurt and exhaustion. It’s disconcerting, the way he feels about his apartment. Coming home should be effortless. People come home in the same way they draw breath. But to Izuku, it's a weary, miserable journey that he must consciously think about and do. His perennial loneliness is overwhelming, a near physical force repelling you from opening the large glass door.

One foot in the lobby and the surroundings undulate. You’re dropped in the middle of his living room. It’s vacant. There’s a large box of case files tucked under the coffee table, an old takeout box left out on the counter, a blanket strewn haphazardly over the couch cushions. You pinch the soft fabric and rub it between your fingers, bringing it to your nose as you’re overcome by the urge to smell it. Izuku’s warm scent floods your senses.

Something thuds outside, followed by a tinkling of keys on a chain. Your blood runs quicker as the front door abruptly opens. Izuku looks harried as he ducks into the genkan, quite visibly frayed. The upper half of his hero suit is unzipped, pushed down to hang over his hips, littered with debris and dry mud. You hold your breath as he kicks off his shoes and lifts his head, meeting your wide-eyed gaze. The air around you is charged. Trepidation prickles at your nape.

Then the shadows over his stormy face recede. Izuku gentles, light returning to his previously empty eyes. “I’m home,” he breathes. “I missed you”. His voice shivers down your spine—you know in your gut that this is him, the real Izuku, but that fact is hard to believe while he’s looking at you like he wants you.

“Welcome home,” you smile back, slipping the blanket around your shoulders as you move toward him. “Hard day at—?”

Your intentions are to sit him down, keep him calm so as not to be ejected, and explain what’s happening, but before you have the chance his larger body crowds you against the wall—the dull impact reverberates through your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs and he’s kissing you as if it’s something he always does.

Though it’s more of a collision than a kiss. The sensation is indescribable. Information spills into your mouth, your quirk reflexively absorbing his every fantasy, ache and want. Your knees almost buckle. The blanket puddles at your feet. Fingers snake into his thick hair, nails dig into his roots where skin becomes earth as you try to reciprocate his fervour.

Under your tongue you feel the cut on his lip, under your palms the dark swell across his cheek. You shake off the cloud of desire. Too many lines have already been crossed. “Izuku,” you whine. His name comes naturally now; you know him deeply enough. Blunt teeth graze at your jaw, your throat. You lean away for air only to catch a glimpse of another angry ivory-red bruise peeking from beneath his loose collar. “Izuku,” you tried again. Then louder. “Izuku, that’s enough”.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Izuku rasps as he rears up from the crook of your neck with wide, glassy eyes.

“No—I’m,” your heart beats hard in your ears. Dread sinks low in your belly. “It’s me. I’m really here, Izuku. You’ve been away for too long. I had to use my quirk. We need to wake up”.

“Wake up? You’re… oh,” his eyes grow wider, then shutter closed on a shaky exhale. The cut on his bottom lip has started bleeding again. Rivulets seeped into the cracks between his teeth and stained his gums red. You yearn for the searing heat of his hands as he releases you and staggers backwards to scrub at his face. “Oh my god”.

“Wait. Please don’t throw me out,” you say quickly, reaching to clutch at his wrist in case he panicked. Izuku tenses at the contact only to relax a beat later, his fingers spreading over his eyes so he can get a peek at you. “It took me forever to find you here. There’s a lot of stuff in your head”.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t,” he mumbles. You could collapse in relief. He’s not angry, he’s embarrassed.

“Thank you. I promise I tried not to look at anything too private”. Your mind didn’t make it easy, you think. It was almost like he wanted me to see everything.

Izuku groans and lets his hands drop to his sides in defeat, revealing an entirely pink face. You keep your fingers curled around his wrist, his pulse light and fast. “Okay. I’m okay. We should probably sit down for this,” he eventually croaks, a tremulous smile working its way across his lips. “Drink?”

You pick up the blanket and make your way to the couch while he briefly disappears into the kitchen. Around you the apartment takes on a rosy sheen. A dull clink shudders through the silence as Izuku sets a cup on the coffee table in front of you. It’s your favourite work mug down to the smallest details.

“You remembered this old thing?”

Shaped like a cat, the handle curved in and away like a feline’s tail. It’s piping hot, steam already curling up from it like a crooked finger, like the invitation he meant it to be.

Izuku nodded awkwardly, perched so far forward that it stretched credulity to say he was on the couch at all. He tracks your movements with intensity when you lean to pick up the hot drink. The initial sting to your palms quickly dwindles into numbness as you bring it closer and realise what’s inside. Hot chocolate. The surface sprinkled with those small, cube shaped marshmallows that he likes.

You swallow and feel the warmth spread through your body. A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as the thick, saccharine flavour floods your senses, washing back the bitterness and thawing your anxiety. You can hear the tension in Izuku’s shoulders snap as he slumps forward, arms hung over his knees and head low in relief. His reaction is oddly vindicating, if not contagious.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asks. “Time is weird here”.

“You’ve been comatose for over two weeks,” you reply. “They tried everything they could before Bakugo insisted on bringing me in. You have a lot of people waiting for you”.

Izuku inhales sharply. He makes an aborted motion to scoot closer before thinking better of it. Your attention strays to the nervous wringing of his battle worn hands. Endeared, you put your mug down and close the distance yourself. Pressed thigh to thigh, you envelop his tightly curled fists, bringing them into your lap. The shaky breath he takes is loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Honestly I’m surprised you’re still working”.

He looks at you with an unsure, watery smile, sunlight caught in glassy eyes. His voice is thick as he asks, “What do you mean?”

You smile sadly and run your thumb over his knuckles. “You’ve been on patrol. I thought you might’ve locked yourself in your head because you needed a proper break—and who could blame you, really. But you’re working yourself thin even in your dreams”.

Izuku huffed a laugh, more breath than humour. “I love being a hero. It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he says, his voice tight. You sink into his side and feel his diaphragm stutter. “But it isn’t everything. It felt like I was suffocating and I needed something more. Something to come home to for a little while…”

His red-rimmed eyes quickly return to his lap when you meet them. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Your quirk really is incredible”.

You can feel the shame swatting at you like a summer-born heatwave, reminded of just how deeply you’ve invaded his privacy, and how easily you overstepped your bounds.

“I’m so sorry,” he continues, at the same time that you tell him, “I’m sorry, Izuku”.

“Please. Let me go first,” he murmurs like a question. You nod your assent. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. I thought you were a part of my imagination, like the rest of this place. I should have realised you weren’t. I’m sorry,” he rambles on. “I wanted to be closer to you but I got carried away and I’m sorry”.

“You couldn’t have known. I should have told you it was me as soon as you walked in,” you firmly interject. Izuku doesn’t look any less stricken in your periphery, cheek sunken where he’s gnawing at the flesh. “And you didn’t force anything. I hardly pushed you away,” your brow wrinkles and you smile despite yourself. “I got a little lost in your head, too. Not my most professional moment I admit. But I wouldn’t want to leave either, if we were cuddled up in here all day”.

“Really?” Izuku blinks. Hope colours his cheeks. He clears his throat and shifts in place as he tries very hard to appear unaffected. “You don’t think it’s creepy—me picturing all this with you?”

You think of that young boy yoked with the burden of expectation and feel your heart crack. You can still taste his desires. They’re insipid, belying their age, as though they’d lingered long enough to stale. Izuku treasured his friends and fans', their love and loyalty; yet he felt guilty for allowing them to foster such a blind faith in his goodness. He was a man with faults like any other, capable of making mistakes, of inflicting harm. More than anything Izuku longed for someone to see the darker, uglier corners of his life, and make room for all of him. And you wanted to be the one to do it.

“I’ve imagined this with you. This and more,” bolstered by everything you’ve seen, the confession spills out with startling ease. Your eyes squint above the curve of your grin. “I like you too,” you coaxed his fist open as you spoke, mapping out the carved furrows, shallows and depths on his palm. “A lot”.

“Oh,” he exhales, slowly entangling your fingers.

You give an emphatic nod.

“How mad is Kacchan?”

“Pretty mad. But when is he not?” you laugh at his grimace. “I’ll be there as a buffer when you wake up. It’s my professional opinion that you need a few more days to recuperate and take me out for crêpes. So will you come home with me?”

There’s a gleam in his eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugs at your chest. His gaze flickers across your face, from your lips to your eyes in askance. You lean in and he kisses you again, sipping gently at your mouth, firm and slightly sticky with congealed blood. Strange. It feels so real. You suppose it is, in all the ways that matter.

“Okay,” he whispers after one last peck to your lips. You get to your feet as he stands and gestures nervously toward the genkan. “I, uh. I don’t really know how to get out of here so… lead the way?”

You laugh and take him by the hand. “Don’t worry. The way home is always a lot faster. It’s a little disorienting—watch your step,” you warn as he follows you through the front door. Rather than the lobby, or a stairwell, both bodies are swallowed up by darkness.

Spat out just as abruptly, your senses return to you piece by piece. Breathing through the vertigo you peel your eyes open to the rapid rise and fall of Izuku’s chest as he reorients himself. A crick in your neck, a knot in your spine. The clock reads 07:12. There are already nurses bustling around the hospital bed, likely alerted by the frantic heart monitor; that which does little to hide the way Izuku’s pulse stutters when you lift your head to get a look at him.

“I’m up,” he says, throat rough from disuse. There’s a shaky smile on his face. “I’m home”.

Your hands are still entwined, albeit a little sweaty. You smile, “Welcome home”.

#deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #q’d

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miinatozakiii · 28 days

Text

after hours

myoui mina x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: what happens after work is the reason you power through it all

warnings: basically none ; meeting mina's parents ; brain rotting fluff (my roots!! my specialty) ; reader is head over heels for mina ; IM head over heels ; not proofread

a/n: i'm extremely late for her bday, hopefully this makes up for it? enjoy

!!! cont/side story of "slow dancing"!! ( i suggest you read it first :-P )

“any questions, comments, remarks?” you ask, eyeing every man in the room.

they sit in their seats, teeth clenched and posture straight as you speak. they watch you place your hands on the table and lean over, feeling smaller as you do so.

a shake of all seven heads leads to a forced smile on your lips, then you clap your hands together.

“great, we’ll wrap things up with mina’s final additions and remarks. the profits have been booming.” you finally say before mina takes the spotlight.

she goes on for less than three minutes, earning raised brows from surprise and approving nods from all the men before she dismisses them. they’re all quick to leave, they’ve been quite wary since your last reprimanding when one of the shareholders decided to second guess your — mostly mina’s —success.

as soon as they leave, you make sure there’s no one to intrude. mina is placing papers in her folder, then hums in surprise when she feels a hand on her chin and lips on her own.

she sinks into the kiss, pressing deeper into you as her hand softly lands on your forearm.

you pull away, grinning. mina rolls her eyes and punches your shoulder.

“someone could’ve seen us.”

“i’m pretty sure they all know.” you giggle, turning over to grab the laptop plugged into the hdmi. “they’re all just scared of us. mostly you though, boss.”

“you’re so annoying when you call me that.”

“can i kiss you to make up for it?” you ask, smirking.

mina scoffs, but immediately she’s walking over and messing up your hair before pecking your lips quickly. “you’re an idiot.”

“yeah, an idiot that’s asking to grab some dinner with you tonight?”

she pushes the folder in her hand against your chest, silently making you carry it for her before responding,

“have you forgotten about our dinner plans already? my parents have reservations with us, remember?”

“that’s today?”

“tonight, and you’re my ride there.”

mina turns over and heads out the door, leaving you with a jolt of realization—you're meeting her parents for the first time, tonight, in a few hours. the reminder hits you like a ton of bricks, and suddenly, nerves start to gnaw at your insides. you had completely forgotten about the upcoming meeting, but you have to at least try to convince yourself that it won’t go terrible.

when mina returns to your shared office, she greets you with a devious smile, fully aware that she's shaken you up. despite feeling a pang of guilt for rattling your nerves, she can't help but find it amusing to see you all serious and focused. and maybe – just maybe – mina is a little evil for thinking this, but you look absolutely adorable like that.

you're cleaning up your workspace, tucking papers back into folders and it’s clear that something clouds your mind. mina walks over to you while you finish up something on your laptop, then places a kiss on the top of your head.

“you’re stressed.”

“a little.”

mina laughs softly. “a lot, don’t lie to me.”

“i completely forgot, i thought next friday.”

she stands next to you and runs a hand through your hair, sliding her hand down to your cheek. you suconciously lean into her touch, pouting lightly.

“you’ll be fine. my parents are wonderful.”

now you’re smiling a little, just a little less nervous now. turning into her hand, you kiss it softly before leaning back into your office chair.

“i’m sure.” it comes out as almost a whisper, “still, i'm just nervous.”

she leans down, her lips gently meeting yours, and you feel a surge of warmth spread through you. her fingers graze your neck as she kisses you, which nearly melts you. your nerves seem to dissolve into nothing, surrendering completely to mina.

after pulling away, she presses a kiss to your forehead. “you shouldn’t be. besides, we’re just going out to some diner, nothing too fancy.”

“i’ll trust you on that, boss.” you mutter, earning a roll of eyes and a flick to your forehead.

the two of you go back home to change, and soon after you’re back in your car to go pick up mina.

mina had texted you to wear something casual, and it sparked a whole crisis of indecision about what was appropriate. she couldn't help but smile upon seeing the flurry of texts from you, feeling a twinge of guilt for how nervous you were—still are—before sending a picture of what she’s wearing.

mina: attachment: 1 image.

you pause at the image because woah, just woah is all you can really think. you find yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, gazing at mina's reflection in the mirror as she stands there, holding the phone. she's wearing something simple, really casual, actually, just a t-shirt and jeans, but still, she looks wonderful.

you: oh, so you actually meant simple

mina: y/n, what else would i mean

you: :-(

you: i'm over thinking things

you: a sweater and pleated pants are okay, right?

mina: i'm not going to answer that

you: mina please

mina: just go with what you think is right

you groan after reading her text, flopping down onto your bed and staring at your ceiling before picking your phone back up.

you: you’re evil

on your bed, you’re huffing dramatically as you look at the picture she had sent earlier. you decide that you can’t actually be mad at her. you can’t see mina, but she’s grinning at her phone, rolling her eyes at the text you had just sent.

you: evil and beautiful

mina giggles at the phone, smiling to herself.

mina: pick me up in ten?

you: yes lovely

you're parked outside mina’s place, and right as you’re about to call her, you see her emerge from the door and look for your car. rolling your windows down catches her attention and the two of you smile at each other at the same time.

she walks over and opens the door, sitting in the passengers side.

the picture she sent had you completely enamored but seeing her in person was a whole different level. the simple t-shirt under her zip up, the navy wide-legged jeans—and that smile of hers? it was absolutely priceless. how pretty.

“ready to go?” you ask.

she buckles her seatbelt before responding, “i should be the one asking you that.”

rolling your eyes, you shift the stick and start to drive to the restaurant mina has typed into your phone. once the route is visible on the screen of your car, it shows that it’s only ten minutes away. still not enough time to compose yourself, but oh well.

as you reach the place, you're struck by how casual and simple it is. the first time mina had even mentioned her parents, scenarios of meeting them ran through your head. you had expected to meet mina's parents somewhere fancier in all of them, but the simplicity of the diner setting actually makes you feel more at ease.

after you park, mina places a comforting hand on yours. as she looks at you, it's with an expression that makes you feel like you're her rock and she's the luckiest person in the world. her touch on your cheek is always soothing, her soft fingers grazing your cheekbone, calming your nerves instantly. then, with a reassuring smile, she says, "you'll be fine." and somehow, with her by your side, you believe her. of course you do when she’s looking at you like that.

“thanks.”

she leans in and kisses you, something she loves to do when she can’t really conjure up any words to describe what she’s trying to convey. it's enough to get the message across, and you’re forever grateful.

minutes later, you find yourself holding mina's hand, her thumb gently rubbing against your skin in a subtle gesture of comfort. together, you approach the man at the front counter and request a table for four. soon, you're led to a table outside, where the weather is perfect and you’re able to take in the view of the environment as you wait.

just as you begin to think you have a moment to compose yourself, mina's phone rings, and she receives a call from her mom. the conversation is short, but waht you catch from what she says during the call tells you that her parents have arrived and are searching for your table. panic flutters in your chest as you realize that they’re here, you’re meeting them soon—now.

mina kisses your cheek quickly, it makes you feel a little better, even if your heart beat stays beating a little quick.

seconds later, mina turns her head and stands up, you watch her smile at the woman who walks out the door.

you feel obligated to stand too, following mina as she walks towards her mom and dad. mina hugs her mom tightly, their smiles mirroring each other's, both gummy and wide. then, it's her dad's turn. he gives mina a comforting hug, planting a gentle kiss on the side of her head, and you can't help but feel a swell of warmth, smiling yourself.

they greet her quickly before looking at you, which makes you tense up a bit. her mom looks at you, still smiling as she examines, taking in your presence.

“you must be y/n?” you nod in response, smiling respectfully.

“yes. it’s really nice to meet you.”

her mom tilts her head, staying silent for about three seconds – grueling, really, the worst, most nerve-racking three seconds of your life probably – before speaking again.

“gosh, you’re beatiful. mina wasn’t lying, i mean she’s shown me a brief picture but wow honey, you’re adorable.” her mom says before pulling you in for a hug.

you freeze up a bit before reciprocating, smiling even bigger.

once her mom compliments you a couple more times, you turn towards her dad. he has a friendly face, a small smile gracing his aged features. he simply puts his hand out, which you shake, and then pulls you in for a small hug.

he looks at you dearly after that, smiling bigger. “thanks for making our daughter happy, she mentions you a lot.”

you turn to mina, cheeks dusted pink. “is that true?” you ask teasingly, earning a small punch to your shoulder. “sorry.”

the small interaction earns a giggle from her parents, they look at each other with proud smiles.

back at your table, menus spread out in front of you, you all decide over what to order. when the waiter arrives and asks about drinks, and knowing mina is quite timid, you place the orders: a sprite for herself, a sweet tea for you and her mom, and a water for her dad.

when the waiter leaves, her dad begins the conversation.

“so you’re her assistant?”

your head perks up from the menu. “oh, yes.”

“and how’s working with my daughter? she’s stubborn sometimes.”

you giggle lightly before looking at mina, then back to her dad. “i mean, i wasn’t used to such high position and--” eyeing mina, you continue, “vast workload, but overtime working became great. i think we make a great team, she’s really good with handling everything.”

her dad smiles. “that’s my girl.”

the waiter returns with your drinks, setting them down on the table before retrieving a notepad. he asks if you're all ready to order, and you confirm that you are. you opt for a chicken sandwich and fries, while mina chooses a cheeseburger. her mom orders tenders, and her dad selects a deluxe sandwich. as for appetizers, you decide on some onion rings and salads for everyone to share.

as you all dive into some small talk, mina's parents ask simple questions about you—like if you have any siblings, your hobbies, and your aspirations. you're glad to find that they're genuinely interested in getting to know you, and talking with them isn't as difficult as you had feared. in fact, the conversation flows nicely, and the best part is hearing some small stories from mina's earlier life. you share laughter with her parents, and you can't help but notice how it makes mina all flustered and blushy in return.

moments later, mina excuses herself to the restroom, catching you offguard. you watch her get up and walk back inside the building, and now you’re left with the myoui’s alone.

there's a short silence as you sit there, trying to find out how to keep the conversation you had going before mina left. her mom beats you to it.

“you’re wonderful y/n, really.” she says, placing her hand on yours. “mina adores you.”

smiling, you respond, “i’m glad. i adore her too, twice as much probably.”

her dad chuckles, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “we’re glad to hear. mina calls us every week and most—actually, all of the conversations have included you.”

“really?” you ask, feeling your cheeks warm. her dad nods and you grin. “that’s great to hear.”

“mina used to complain about work a lot, it worried us.” her mom starts, “and then she mentioned this new assistant that irriated her, but then a week or two later she’d call back saying you were like a gift from heaven.”

the heat on your cheeks intensifies as you process the words. "really?" you question, genuinely surprised. as far as you remember, mina had been distant and pretty (very) cold towards you for at least a month before gradually warming up. the thought that she had been gushing to her parents about you so quickly, already enamored despite her earlier act of annoyance, flatters you, makes you fall deeper in love honestly.

“yeah, it takes time for her to warm up.” her mom explains, laughing. “she went from stressing to talking about you whenever work was mentioned, and now that i get to meet you in person—it’s understandable that she’s grown fond of you.”

you're speechless for a moment, trying to process all of this new information that might just make your heart burst. her parents look at each other and grin before you catch mina in the corner of your eye, walking back towards the table and sitting down.

“everything alright?” mina asks, looking at your features etched into surprise.

“yeah, perfect.” you mumble, looking at her with a warm smile.

dinner goes well, it’s amazing.

the food was truly flawless; your chicken sandwich was perfectly crisp, with the mayonnaise, lettuce, and soft bread complementing each other perfectly. judging by the satisfied expressions around the table, it seemed like everyone's meal was cooked to perfection. as you all ate, the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the scene and providing a pretty backdrop to your meal and conversation.

throughout the evening, you learned so much about mina from her parents, gaining insights and anecdotes that you hadn't heard before. the smiles on their faces and the small, proud, and appreciative glances they exchanged with each other hinted that everything was more than alright—it was wonderful. in that moment, surrounded by good food, good company, and a beautiful sunset, you couldn't help but feel grateful for this, for her appreciative parents, and simply for mina.

after finishing your meals, you all decide to linger a bit longer, savoring each other's company. the moon was out now, casting a soft glow over the scene. eventually, mina's dad decides to call it an evening, putting his arm around her mom in a gesture of affection.

“alright, we should get going soon.” he says, fishing for his wallet with the other hand. “we’ve got to drive fourty-five minutes to get back to our place.”

you wave your hand and shake your head, dismissing him. “no, stop, i've got it, really.”

“no, it’s fine, really. let me pay for my daughter and her wonderful girlfriend.”

“mr. myoui, really, please. i've got it.”

“are you really arguing with your girlfriends dad?” he asks, his tone is playful. he raises a brow, looking at you dead in the eye.

“if it means getting the bill instead, then yes.” you challenge, earning a chuckle from him.

“i like you a lot, y/n.” he says, “you’re perfect for my daughter, but please, let me get it.”

before you can even argue, mina places her card down quickly and calls over a waiter. you and her dad exchange puzzled frowns, both of you clearly surprised by her sudden decision. mina and her mom share a laugh at the identical expressions on your faces.

“mina!” you groan, “why would you--”

mina places her hand on the crook of your neck. “you two are so stubborn sometimes.” she says, then looks at her mom. “it’s always like this, fighting for the bill. you and my dad are so stubborn when it comes to this.”

her dad laughs and adds a last remark, “take care of my daughter, lots of care.”

mina's mom and dad give you hugs, muttering thankful comments and praises before departing.

you and mina walk back to your car, and you open the door for her to get in before heading to the driver's side yourself. once you're both settled in and the door is closed, you find yourself leaning back against the seat, exhaling a sigh of relief. you're content, so, so relieved.

your girlfriend laughs at you, holding your hand. “i told you there would be nothing to worry about. they love you.”

a small “mhm” is hummed as you really take in all the events, and then you turn to her lips turned up into a smile.

“i’m just glad they’re fine with me dating the most stubborn, prettiest boss in the world.”

mina rolls her eyes playfully before leaning in to kiss your knuckles, a gesture that makes your cheeks warmer and body relax. you lean your head closer, your gaze lingering on her lips before you press a kiss.

as you pull back slightly, you find yourself taking in her features, illuminated by the soft light above. each contour of her face seems to emphasize the very features that drew you to her, making your heart swell with affection. you grin like an idiot.

you kiss her knuckles. “seriously the prettiest boss in the world.”

#twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #mina x reader #mina imagines #twice mina #myoui mina #myoui mina x reader

348 notes · View notes

moonlight-prose · 7 months

Note

If you’re taking those as prompts, ❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜ with Din perhaps?

LOVE IS A FIRE THAT BURNS UNSEEN

a/n: so i took forever on this, because i kind of fell out of writing for din for...well....awhile. i can tell you this sat in my wips folder half finished for months. honestly i was wondering if it would even get finished. but i was re-watching mando last night and decided why the fuck not. i can't remember which prompt list this was from because it's been so long, but that's okay. this is not beta read or edited, but we live and die by the pen.

summary: on your list of things that could possibly happen while bounty hunting with din, dying from hypothermia wasn't included. nor was finally admitting the truth to yourself about your feelings.

word count: 3.1k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, near death experience, angst, feelings being admitted sort of, p in v sex, a hint of choking, they're so in love it's sickening.

It’s fucking cold in the Razor Crest as you sit in the cockpit waiting for his return. You’re bundled in a jacket that has seen better days, but even with the extra layers you swear you’ll freeze to death before he comes back. Tempted to turn the ship back on in order to get some heat—you do the most to distract yourself from the frost currently eating away at the skin of your face. Din’s instructions were clear. Keep the ship hidden until he comes back with the bounty, which would be simple enough.

That is if the bounty he was currently hunting resided on a planet with a temperature that wouldn’t kill you from exposure. Everything had been fine two hours ago. You were working on repairing an old comlink as he tracked the bounty through space, having caught their signal on the outer edges of the galaxy. Except then…they were attacked. Neither of you could see who caused it or even why, but suddenly a lone ship was heading into the atmosphere on the one planet you always said you’d rather die than visit.

Hoth—a frozen pit that once housed the Rebellion of all places.

So, there you were. Shivering to gain some warmth as you scanned the area for Din’s signal. If the ship was right, he still remained alive. You only wished you could say the same for yourself by the time he came back.

The cold had begun to seep into your layers, hitting your chest directly and causing you to cough harshly. If he didn’t return within the hour he would find you dead due to hypothermia. Except that’s not what scared you. It was the fact that he would be the one to find you—a man who showed absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.

You weren’t sure when the crush started or even why, but you do know the realization hit you harder than a speeder-bike going at full speed one day while you were sitting beside him in the cockpit. He laughed at something you said, the chuckle low and slightly clipped due to his modulator and that’s what did it. What had you sitting there in shock—eyes wide—as it suddenly dawned on you that…you liked him. A lot more than you would have ever thought before.

“Maker fucking above,” you muttered, your teeth chattering with the words. “Hurry up, bucket head.”

Vaguely you recalled some survival tips from your time as a teenager on Bracca working as a scrapper. Never touch live wires, always look out for yourself, and when stuck in freezing temperatures—layers become your best friend. So, you stumbled out of the cockpit chair and towards the ladder that would lead you to the rest of his ship. Slow small steps were all you could manage as your body went into overdrive to try and keep you warm. Except the ship acted as an icebox rather than a heater.

You could lock yourself in his small cot, burrowing under the blankets he’d bought because of you complaining there wasn’t enough on the ship. But you’d first have to get there. It was a struggle to even climb down the ladder—your breath coming in gasps as your lungs fought against the freezing air. How long had you been sitting up there? You held no answer to the question, because the results were clear to you now; you were up there long enough to lead you right to death’s doorstep.

Dragging yourself along the side of the ship wall, you flinched as the cold metal touched your cheek. You should have gone against his orders and simply turned the ship back on. It would keep you from this—currently fighting against hypothermia as Din took his sweet time coming back.

The sound of the airlock on the door releasing when it opened brought a small flicker of hope to life, burning bright in your chest. But it faded just as quickly as it came. You caught sight of him dragging a half dead bounty up the ramp—his helmet turned towards you—before you collapsed to the ground. Your body shivering in a final attempt to generate enough body heat in order to keep you alive.

His voice calling your name echoed in the back of your mind as you drifted off—the concept of sleep far more enticing than it should be.

Steady breaths against your bare back was what you woke up—your mind drifting slowly back to reality. Or at least what you thought to be reality. The last thing you could recall was seeing Din’s helmet as your body did what it could to survive. How you ended up in the darkness of his cot, pressed against someone you assumed to be him…naked, was a mystery to you. Perhaps you were still dreaming. This must be how your mind envisioned some form of peace to ease your soul into an afterlife.

“You’re awake.” His voice caught you off guard—the breath in your throat catching.

“How…”

The shift of his body created a low burn of heat to appear at the bottom of your stomach as his arm tightened around your waist—drawing you closer. “You almost stopped breathing when I got back. Your body went into shock from the cold.”

“I was dying,” you said softly, the realization far less jarring than waking beside him in the nude.

He hummed, the low pitch a vibration you felt along your back. “I had to get you warm.”

“So you took off my clothes?” you asked, the smile prominent in your tone.

“Generating enough body heat only works when—”

“Both of us are naked.”

His fingers gripped onto the soft skin of your belly. “Yes,” he replied—voice slightly strained.

Somehow it never registered that he was actually sans armor and clothing until you felt his hand glide further up. The soft skin of his palm turned the spark into a fully formed flame that traveled its way through your body. He was laying beside you…naked. If you concentrated hard enough, you could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your lower back—his skin soft there too.

Any other time your brain would have short circuited, but the sluggishness from sleep had yet to wear off. It made you rather docile—something you felt oddly grateful for. You were entirely aware, fully conscious of your words and decisions, but the tranquility in your body seemingly spurred you forward. No other time would you be this centered—this sure of yourself—and maybe that’s where you made the mistake, because this was dangerous. Revealing the feelings you’d harbored for months was like poison to your heart…positively lethal.

“Din,” you murmured, the soft heat coming from his body now spreading into yours.

If you knew you’d end up like this after one visit to Hoth, you would have come here a lot sooner.

“Yes?” Even his breath was warm as it brushed across the bare skin of your shoulder. Maker you were close in his bed that was barely big enough for him, let alone you beside him.

“I—” The words caught in the base of your throat, lodging themselves there like a stone you couldn’t swallow. You wanted to say it. Get everything out into the open and be done with it, but your mind seemed to be slowly coming to its senses.

“What is it?”

Closing your eyes, you let out a shuddered breath in the hopes that it would push down the erratic nerves which jumped under your skin. If you chickened out now, you’d never say the words. They’d be your secret—forever trapped in the cage of your heart until it was far too late to confess them. What’s funny is that they seemed like such easy things to say. How hard was it really to say I love you? How much effort did it take? Only you now realized it took a lot more than you expected.

It was far easier to die than to admit your feelings.

“I have to tell you something and I just—” Inhaling, you curled your hand around the blanket beneath you. “I don’t want you to look at me differently if things don’t turn out the way I hope.”

His thumb rubbed a soothing circle against your hip. “I won’t.”

You scoffed. “You probably will.”

The subtle shift of his body against yours caused flutters to go through your heart—rendering you speechless for a moment. He was so close it was maddening. If you had the courage you’d turn around, press yourself to him, and whisper the words against his lips. But you were practically stone, unable to even turn your head slightly to feel the press of his lips against your neck.

“For a while now I’ve felt…well…my feelings towards you have changed.” You blurted them out, hoping it was like ripping off a bandaid. Except the silence of his response hurt more than you expected.

Until—

“I know,” he said, his hand pressing a bit harder on your hip.

Nothing could have prepared you for the shockwave that went through your body. “You know?” you exclaimed.

“I’ve known since our trip to Coruscant.”

You paused, trying to form something to say, but all you could come up with was: “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Why had he let you think he held no feelings towards you? That you were alone in this. You felt him stiffen behind you, his hand pulling away slightly and your heart sank in your chest. Perhaps you had asked the wrong question. Or even touched on a part of this he didn’t want you to see. But you had to know the truth. You knew why you waited—why you couldn’t get the words out for the life of you—but why had he?

That is until he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly, jolting you back towards his body. A soft yelp left you as you tried to refocus yourself in the pitch black space. Except then you felt it. Pressing hard and insistent against your lower back—a part of Din you had only ever imagined, but never seen.

He grunted, his hand splaying across your stomach as you shifted against him. “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”

You gasped. “Din—”

“What you’ve been doing?

His hips canted downwards, grinding against you and sending heat sparking up your spine. Enough to combat the cold that still remained in you, but you wanted more. You craved it. Moaning softly, you pushed back against him, pressing your thighs together to hopefully appease the growing ache that formed. Except he was one step ahead of you. Shoving his bare thigh between your legs, he pressed it upwards, grinning at the way your head fell back against his chest—a guttural moan leaving your lips.

“Every day is fucking torture,” he rasped, his hand sliding even lower until his fingers were hovering right above where you needed him most. “Because I can’t touch you.” His lips pressed against the curve of your jaw. “Because I can’t kiss you…”

“Maker,” you gasped, reaching down to wrap your hand around his wrist. “I-I want you to touch me. Want you to kiss me.”

His fingers dipped down even lower, finally parting your folds. A ragged groan was pressed to your jaw, his teeth scraping down against the skin when he found you wet and dripping for him. You could feel his heartbeat against your back. How it was erratic and almost as quick as yours. He was just as nervous as you were—if not more so, because of his creed.

He wanted you to be his, to love him as he was with his creed, but he was scared that this wasn’t permanent. You wanted to show him the inner workings of your mind, the makeup of your heart—how he was seared into it. He was ingrained so deep into your soul that you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being parted from him.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

Nodding, you felt another moan begin to form, only for it to die as he pulled his fingers away. “No—”

“Shh,” he breathed, cupping your jaw as he moved even closer. “I’ll take care of you.”

Heat flooded your stomach, a whine forming in your throat as he pulled you back, the head of his cock now nudging against your entrance. You dug your nails into his forearm, your lips parting to form around his name. A ragged moan echoing in his small quarters, and he began to push forward. Sliding into you slowly as you fought to keep yourself quiet.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed, wrapping his arm around your torso and thrusting into you completely, his hips pressing against your ass. “Won’t last—”

You keened when his hand fell to your clit, circling it with enough pressure to send jolts up your spine. For a moment he simply held himself there. Encompassed in your heat as he worked you over, building your release steadily until you were pressing into him. Your hips rolling against his fingers—fucking yourself on his cock. Soft moans were pressed to your skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching along your shoulder, and that only heightened everything.

For the first time…he was entirely yours. Bare and open as he indulged in something both of you had held back from doing for so long.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you turned your head and caught the corner of his lips in a kiss. Something so tender yet so powerful. It nearly sent you over the edge and you felt Din’s surprise at the action. How his body jolted, his hips nudging forward and fingers stuttering in their motions. Even though he had proudly claimed he wanted to kiss you, to finally feel your lips against his. He had never expected it to come true.

“Cyar'ika,” he breathed.

“I want…” You gasped, hips rolling against his fingers in quick movements as that blinding feeling continued to overtake you. “Kiss me Din. Please, please—”

His mouth found yours in the darkness of his cabin, and you felt your heart scream out. Felt your entire body give into him, his name, his signet forever carved into your heart. He was your future and he knew it. Which is why he kissed you with a fervor that you believed only existed in your dreams—a passion that you felt right down to your toes. His tongue slid along yours, tasting the shitty caf you had earlier—the desperation on your tastebuds.

“Ah…” You tried to form the words on your tongue. The feelings that were trapped in your heart, but they refused to be let loose.

“I know you want to cum,” he breathed, fingers speeding up as your walls began to flutter around his cock. His other hand shifted, wrapping gently around your throat to keep your face close to his. Pressing down lightly as you gasped. “Let me feel it.”

A keening broken moan of his name ripped from you, hands scrabbling to grasp for something, settling for his arm that kept you pressed against him. White flashed behind your closed eyes, his lips swallowing every sound you made as you writhed against him. Gushing around his cock.

You didn’t hear the hoarse shout that he pressed into your mouth, his hips thrusting into you quickly as he followed you off the edge. Filling you with a warmth that you swore you felt in your chest. Biting down on his bottom lip you sucked into your mouth, moaning when he canted his hips forward, prolonging the sparks that ran up your spine. He was a panting mess and you tried to picture what he looked like.

Was his hair a mess? Were his cheeks stained red? Were his lips swollen?

The urge to simply open your eyes nearly overtook you, but you understood what came with that action. What would have to happen afterwards. Din had explained enough for you to grasp the basic details of what being a Mandalorian meant. So you kept them closed and opted to simply feel. You memorized how his lips against yours felt, what being full of him felt like.

You kept what you could nestled against your heart, remaining here for as long as possible. Din’s cock softened in you, twitching every now and then when your walls fluttered. But you solely had him to blame. Because he was running his hand along your body, grazing your nipples lightly before pulling away—the familiar feelings in your stomach stirring once more. If he wasn’t careful neither of you would be leaving this bed for quite some time.

Which didn’t bode well for you seeing as how you hated the planet you currently resided on.

“Din,” you breathed, pulling away to catch your breath before he dived down again—ready for round two of the hottest makeout session you’d partaken in.

“You want to leave,” he panted. There was something scary about how he could see your thoughts so clearly. You’d have to ask him about it later.

“No…” Your head fell back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here, but Hoth.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We can stay here for as long as you want.”

Half expecting him to pull out and place his helmet back in its rightful place, you were a bit surprised when he remained put. Curling himself around you closer until his body perfectly molded yours. The cold still remained in the ship—the heaters unable to counteract the snowy planet—yet you found that you were perfectly content to remain right where you were. Wrapped in his arms—the certainty of your future now nestled in his heart. Mimicking yours in every way.

“Din,” you breathed in the darkness, feeling him trace something along your waist.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say…” You took in a breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. “I feel like you should hear me say it.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers pressing down. “I know cyar'ika. I feel the same way.”

“You do?” you asked softly.

“I do.”

You settled into the bed, allowing your muscles to relax and your body to once more give into the temptation of sleep. With Din right there, you felt as if you were able to finally relax. To give in and allow yourself to float.

“You know…” You yawned, feeling his chin settle against your shoulder. “Maybe Hoth isn’t so bad.”

He smiled, his lips brushing along your skin as you drifted off, mind succumbing to the sweet snare of unconsciousness. “No,” he breathed, continuing to trace the shape of his signet on your skin, because whether you wore it or not…you were a part of his clan. His life. “It’s not.”

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #my writing

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star-suh · 5 months

Text

A Detective and a Gangster Walked Into a Bar

Jeong Jaehyun x Male Reader

cw: top jaehyun, pwp, unprotected sex, breeding, cheating, blowjob, deepthroat, degradation, rimjob, handjob, lightly choking, implied spit as lube, bit of feminization, dumbification.

—

yn is a known p.i. in the city In recent months he has been trying to catch a dangerous gang and to do so he has had to fall to the lowest of the low. this is how he is now on his way to a bar that is managed by jaehyun's wife, another well-known mafia member who coincidentally is a rival of the gang that yn is tracking. "i can't believe i had to ally myself with a son of a bitch like jaehyun," yn mutters, his breath being visible for the cold night.

jaehyun was signing some papers when the phone rang “hello?” he answers the phone, "oh, hello johnny... yeah yeah okay, send him directly to my office”.

“well. well. well… look who arrived, if not the most respected detective of all, yn ln huh?" he says with a cocky tone. “shut up and let's get straight to business. where's the folder you promised to give me?” detective yn said.

“woah you are as handsome as in the photos i have” the shameless gangster flirts. “i'm not here for your stupid jokes jaehyun, give me the. fucking. folder” anger being visible on the detective's face.

“take a seat and let's talk” jaehyun said, “why do you want the folder so much?”. “why do you care?” replied the other quickly. “i don't know maybe i feel jealous.. maybe i want you chasing me instead” jaehyun once again flirts. yn was not having it, he took a deep breath and counted to 10.

“i give you the folder with all the evidence to arrest that son of a bitch. but i'm going to need something in return" jaehyun gets up from the chair, walks around the desk and heads to the couch, sitting there in front of yn. “what do you want?” asked the other male. jaehyun manspreads “just an hour with you. i know you're not a whore but we can make a deal” he blurted out “i'm tired of doing favors for money i have a lot of that. i need other things… like the back of your throat” he smirks. “you shameless freak. fine, but no one should know about this" he sighed, that folder would help him a lot in getting a promotion at his job so whatever it takes, right?.

“come here” jaehyun does a motion with his hands, yn walked towards him. they kissed “so soft” murmured jaehyun “i wonder how would they feel wrapped around my cock” he said between kisses. yn knelt down and unzipped the other's pants, surprised by his big, throbbing cock. “seeing you in your knees is making me so horny”, yn's tongue went up and down jaehyun's shaft “what a fucking tease” moaned the gangster. yn then introduces the tip inside his mouth, making circles with his tongue on it and playing with the foreskin, he then leave wet kisses in the shaft sucking the balls, “so skilled damn you're a professional cocksucker. have you done this before?” grunted jaehyun, “that's none of your damn business” replied the detective.

yn slapped the other's cock on his tongue and put it all the way inside his mouth “fuck, the back of your throat feels so good” yn starts to deepthroat him holding on for a few seconds before taking out the huge cock smeared with thick strings of saliva that connecs his lips to the cock. “shit not even my wife can take it all” grunted jaehyun in excitement.

“that's it, keep sucking it like that?” he demanded “who's a good boy huh?”, yn didn't pay attention to his words, he just wanted to finish as soon as possible. “go faster.. i'm gonna cum inside your throat you better swallow it all slut” jaehyun pushed yn's head all the way down his cock locking his thighs around his neck, choking him while also cumming, forcing the other to swallow the thick gooey sperm of the gangster.

jaehyun let him go, yn fell to the floor coughing trying to catch some air. “come here we're not done yet” jaehyun grabbed and lifted yn by the hand and push him towards his desk “bend over” he said in a low demanding tone, “what the fuck are you talking about?” asked yn with a worried expression. “i said bend over” jaehyun's hand sneaking around yn's throat, squeezing it lightly “the hour is not over yet and i plan to enjoy every part of you until you come back later to me asking for another favor" his laugh sending shivers down your spine. jaehyun quickly remove yn's pants “spread your legs wide for me” yn did as he was told, feeling embarrassed as how submissive he was behaving around that bastard. “good boy” he hears while a slap lands on his left ass cheek.

jaehyun buried his tongue deep inside yn's hole while using his hand to stroke the other's cock “so hard for me. look how much you're leaking. are you that excited to be fucked by me?” he says in between the times that he stopped eating ass to breathe.

yn bites his arm to avoid moaning and give that bastard the satisfaction of knowing that he is feeling good “you're being a good little plaything for me mr. yn don't you wanna be the replacement of my wife?”, “shut up.. don't mention her you shameless perv… fucking other people when you're already married” spoke yn, the pleasure already numbing his mind. “you knew that… and that didn't stopped you to suck me off and you didn't do nothing to avoid what is happening right now so.. who's the perv here?”.

the gangster kept eating yn out “let's get you nice and wet for me i don't want to break you mr. detective… well at least not now” he murmured. yn stopped biting his arm he doesn't have the strength to keep doing it so his saliva started to came out of his mouth and he started to moan so loud “take a deep breath, i’m not going to contain myself from breaking your pussy you hear me?” yn just nodded, “hahaha. haven't even penetrated you yet and you're already that dumb?” the top joked.

and as he said he introduced all his cock at once and started to thrust right away drawing loud moans out of yn's mouth. the thrusts were so hard and rough that the desk started to move too. “look at you acting all though and feisty but being so dumb over my fat cock”. jaehyun have both his hands placed on yn's cheeks and some of his fingers inside his mouth using it as a way to bang him even more harder. nonsense words came out of the detective's mouth while from jaehyun's only “your mine” and “this pussy belongs to me” can be heard in between growls and heavy pants.

“i'm gonna pump all my cum inside you and cream this fucking tight pussy” blurted out jaehyun, with a couple of last thrusts he came, his throbbong cock pumping lots of loads inside the cockdrunk detective…

“here's the folder you earned it” jaehyun slide the folder towards yn who cleans the remains of his saliva that somehow managed to get smeared on the folder, “thanks i guess” an embarrassed yn was getting ready to leave when a hand stopped him, “no goodbye?” pouted jaehyun “i'd like to think we're gonna see each other again”... yn sighed with a disgusted grin “goodbye motherfucker” he answered. “nuh-uh” jaehyun tapped his lips letting him know that he wanted a kiss "i really can't believe you" he said and gave him a kiss. yn walks out of his office waving a goodbye to johnny, one of jaehyun's gang friends, not noticing the big tent formed in his pants.

when he arrived at home he quickly went to the bathroom taking out his dick which was still hard since he didn't came during the sex with jaehyun, just thinking about it made him very horny, his hand goes up and down his dick at a fast pace until finally white ropes of semen fall on the glass door of the shower. yn rests his forehead on his arm that is resting against the glass door, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anger for how that damn gangster jaehyun made him so submissive.

#jeong jaehyun x male reader #jaehyun x male reader #jeong jaehyun x male reader smut #jaehyun x male reader smut #nct 127 x male reader #nct x male reader #nct u x male reader #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct 127 #nct #nct u #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut #jeong yunoh x male reader

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art · 2 years

Photo

Creator Spotlight: @tinypaint

My name is Michelle Fus. I’m a Jewish, non-binary artist. I graduated from the School of Visual Arts for Computer Art and Animation in 2011. I’ve interned at Pixar and worked for a few years at Dreamworks Animation. Over the past ten years, I’ve self-published two books and have run three successful Kickstarters. I now work with Skybound (The Walking Dead, Invincible) in developing my webcomic, Ava’s Demon, as a physical book series for stores. I like hiking, cultivating plants, caring for my cats, and hanging out with my beautiful husband. You can read my webcomic at avasdemon.com.

Check out our interview with Michelle below!

How did you get your start in art, and more specifically, with Ava's Demon?

I’ve always been into art since I was very young. I started to gravitate towards it in first grade, where we were required to keep a daily journal. I found myself drawing in it more than actually keeping entries. From there, I got more and more interested in honing my skills as an artist. I started making my own comics for fun. I signed up for classes outside of school and put together a portfolio for the School of Visual Arts, where I majored in Computer Art and Animation. After getting my first job in the field, I realized that it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. After working my day job, I would come home and work towards building a career in comics for myself by creating and uploading my webcomic, Ava’s Demon.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Looking things up to learn more before I make art or write. For instance, how many livable planets are in a Galaxy? What does a black hole actually look like, and can it give off light? How long would it actually take to travel through space if you had the fastest ship possible? I look up all of these things and then ignore most of them for the sake of writing a fun story and making fun art.

From idea to final piece, how long does it take for you to create something?

It depends on the feeling I want to convey. Sometimes I’ll work for a whole week on a drawing and then delete it because I just don’t feel good about it. Other times I’ll make something in a day that I absolutely love from beginning to end. Some drawings I never delete nor finish, and instead, the files just kind of sit in a folder. The time it takes varies a lot.

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I really love good stories. So movies and books with captivating stories usually motivate and inspire me; stories that stay with you permanently, with twists and turns that you can’t stop thinking about. I also love finding characters whose struggles I can deeply relate to. I try to hold onto those feelings and emulate them through my art.

What is the hardest part of your process?

Actually finishing a drawing. The anxiety of it piles on me sometimes. I’ll work for a while on a drawing and constantly ask myself, “Is this drawing really finished? What terrible things about it am I not seeing?”. My desire to avoid making something terrible can sometimes put me in a mental prison where I keep chipping away at a drawing until I no longer know what I am looking at.

What is one interaction you had from a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

In general, I like letting young artists in middle school, and high school know that I wasn’t very good at art at their age (I really wasn’t, I didn’t have the same resources they have now, and I didn’t have any perspective on what it takes to have a career in art, it’s a different world). Kids have come to me at conventions with their work for critique and advice, and I have to tell them that they’re already miles ahead of what I could make at their age. I have to tell them that it’s okay if they can’t make what all the professionals make online, to know that they have SO much time ahead of them to work at what they love. If you love making art, do it often, study art throughout history, and over time you’ll be able to create everything your heart desires.

What is something other people find hard to draw that you find enjoyable?

I have no idea. Sometimes it feels like drawing anything is suffering, even if you like what you’re making.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@loish has been consistently inspiring me since my days in high school. Every new painting has so much grace and power and is so excellent to look at. Her skill in shape and form seems limitless, and I hope to someday achieve even a small fraction of her understanding of art. Seeing her new work on my timeline also makes my dopamine spike, so I’m always looking forward to updates from her.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Michelle! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @tinypaint and follow their webcomic, Ava’s Demon, over at avasdemon.com.

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #webcomics #michelle fus #ava's demon

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heartateasee · 11 days

Text

“Clairvoyant”

harry x you (don’t really know how to label him in this one…)

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: cheating (with y/n), angst, some rough unprotected sex (spanking, spitting, anal play - f receiving), squirting and slight degradation

Plot: You and Harry had been sneaking around with each other for over a year as he was unhappy in his arranged relationship with his fiancée, but that all comes crumbling down one day when he shows up at your door unexpectedly.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

This wasn’t what you had expected when you had planned a night in for yourself. You didn’t expect to answer the door and see Harry with a duffel bag in his hand when he hadn’t even announced he’d be coming over. You didn’t expect to be sitting on the edge of your bed, staring down at your feet with tear-filled eyes as he walked around your room - gathering things he had left here for the last year or so. The only thing he told you when he walked in was that he was here to get his things, and nothing more had been spoken between the two of you in the five minutes he had been here.

“Are you just not going to tell me what’s going on?” You asked as you sucked in a deep breath, pressing your tongue to the inside of your cheek.

Harry stopped moving for a second, and you could see the inkling of him turning his head to look at you over his shoulder, but he stopped himself - continuing to pack his bag. “She found out, and she threatened to go to my father with it all.”

Your heart sank when you realized this was the worst case scenario. You felt your bottom lip wobbling as you picked at your nails, looking away from him again.

“So...this is it?”

You hoped it wasn’t, but deep down you knew. You were never going to see him again.

“It has to be,” Harry’s voice was rough, and unlike you’d ever heard from him before.

In the past year and a half that you had known each other, you had only see him angry once, and that was because the restaurant you had ordered delivery from for dinner fucked up your order. Not his - yours. He always wanted to make sure that you were happy and satisfied, and knowing that your meal wasn’t right had him riled up. You had managed to talk him down with a few kisses, and some soft caresses, and that night ended with the two of you cuddled up next to the fireplace.

You pursed your lips to the side as you tried to keep yourself from getting overly emotional, but it was all coming down on you at once. “How did she find out?”

“She went through my phone while I was asleep. She found our folder…”

Flinching away, you immediately knew the folder he was referring to. It was a hidden one that he had in his photos, but with the proper password, it was accessible to anyone that may have his phone in their possession. It was photos of the two of you, most of the time engaging in some act of sex, and now you regretted ever agreeing to let him have that. The only reason why you had was because you knew he grew lonely while his fiancée was at work, or when she was out with friends, and you wanted to be able to provide him with some satisfaction when you couldn’t be together.

“She didn’t do anything with those photos, did she?”

“No, she assured me she didn’t, and I believe her,” Harry zipped up his bag, and for the first time he actually turned to look at you. “That’s not her angle as of right now. If I weren’t to end this, then that would change.”

Your bottom lip trembled as it fully hit you that not only was he leaving, but someone had seen the two of you when you were most vulnerable. You were careful when it came to showing that part of yourself to others. Harry had only been the fifth person in your life to see you naked like that.

“So she…she saw me like…” You trailed off, not being able to even finish your sentence as you shut your eyes tight.

You jumped as you then felt the tips of Harry’s fingers dancing down the sides of your arms after a few seconds. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

For the first time since showing up, his voice held that tenderness that you knew and loved so much.

Except right now, it didn’t do a single thing to calm you. Instead, it was pissing you off considering he had the nerve to come here, barely speak to you and just trudge his way into your bedroom to start packing his bag as if the two of you didn’t have something deeper than just sleeping together going on.

You loved each other. You both knew it - even though it hadn’t been spoken.

Speaking it out loud would make it a true reality for the two of you, and deep down, you always knew this was how it was going to end. It wasn’t going to be a mutual goodbye, or a cordial separation. It was going to have to blow up in order for the two of you to stop seeing each other because neither one of you wanted to let go.

“No,” you raised your hands, pushing against his chest slightly to have his touch retreating from you. “You don’t get to touch me anymore.”

Your voice wavered as you avoided eye contact with him, sniffing loudly as you tried to come off as strong - wanting to will away these frustrating tears.

“Y/N, please,” Harry’s voice was now pleading with you, but you shook your head.

“No, Harry,” you shoved at his chest again. “You walked in here as if I was just some one night stand, and your girlfriend found out, but you forgot something important of yours so you had to come back in here. You walked in here, and you didn’t give me any type of explanation until I asked. You didn’t offer me a single shred of consoling. It's like you didn’t expect for this to make me feel this way.”

You never got angry with Harry. You just didn’t. You never raised your voice, or showed any irritation. You had never felt that way towards him.

Until now.

“So, yeah, go ahead and leave,” you walked past him and out of your bedroom as you started back towards your front door. “Since it’s just so easy for you to do, then guess what? It’s going to be so easy for me to watch you go.”

Just as your hand went to reach for the door knob, you felt an arm around your waist - pulling you back against a broad chest.

“Y/N, please don’t be like this,” Harry said into your ear, and you could tell by the tone that he was starting to crack. “Don’t have us end it angry.”

“That’s not fair!” You all but wailed as your tears started to fall harder. “You were going to try and make this as emotionless as possible. You were just going to leave me to take care of it by myself once you were gone.”

“Because it’s easier!” Harry’s voice boomed as he pulled away from you just to turn you around, and you looked up to see tears of his own pooling in his eyes. “I can’t…I can’t have you beg for me. If you do that, then I’d never be able to really say goodbye.”

You swallowed harshly at the word.

‘Goodbye’.

“That’s it then?” You asked, shaking your head. “I…I don’t even get to have you one last time?”

Harry’s eyes lifted from where he was looking down at his feet for a moment, and you watched as his eyes danced over you - contemplating your question.

He knew he shouldn’t. That it would just make things harder to walk away if he allowed himself to indulge in you one last time, but it was hard to resist.

Sex had never felt so good for the two of you until each other. Without even speaking, you were both able to determine what the pace of the night would be. Whether it be rough, the way you both liked it most of the time, or whether it was slow or passionate - you both just knew what was needed silently.

“We shouldn’t,” Harry looked away from you again, and he walked past you - going back into your bedroom.

You followed closely behind him, and you watched as he bent down to grab the bag he brought with him off the floor. It was packed, and ready to go.

The last pieces of him that you had confined inside a piece of luggage.

“This isn’t fair,” you choked out, deciding to be selfish. “You can’t…you can’t just leave me.”

“Come on, Y/N,” Harry sighed as he pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

“I don’t understand how this is so easy for you,” you sat down on the edge of your bed, tugging at your hair in frustration. “How are you okay with just walking out that door and never seeing me again? Harry, I-I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

When this whole thing first started, you both had agreed that it was just sex - no feelings. Neither of you could determine exactly when that changed, but it hadn’t been just sex for a long time now.

You weren’t sure if it was when he started leaving stuff here that the switch happened, or maybe it was when you were sick and he showed up at your door with medicine and hot soup to make you feel better. Regardless of not being able to narrow it down, the switch had happened, and you both allowed yourselves to grow too attached.

“You think this is easy?” Harry hissed, and you dropped your hands to claw at the comforter underneath you. “You think this is fucking easy?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Harry continued.

“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life, don’t you understand?” Harry’s eyes showed remorse and honesty as they drilled into yours. “Leaving you here, and knowing that this is it…I’m fucking ruined. No one has ever meant as much to me as you do.”

Harry had never confessed such deep emotions towards you before, but that was because neither of you needed it.

Again, you both just knew. You always knew.

“And no one has ever meant as much to me as you!” You practically screamed back as more tears of anger and fear stained your face. “I should’ve never fucking done this. It should’ve just been the one night like we said. You should’ve never asked for my number. We should’ve just left it alone.

"I knew it would end with only one of us being completely devastated because you were always going to have someone to turn to once it was over. But not me…I don’t know how I’ll move on.”

You dropped your face into your hands as a sob wrecked through your chest. The only man that you could really say that you deeply, and truly loved was leaving you.

You were convinced you’d never find another. Harry was the love of your life. No one else could ever compare.

“You don’t mean that,” Harry said as he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck - thumb caressing your skin. “I don’t regret a single thing with you.”

Deep down, you didn’t either, but it was easier to try and convince yourself that you did in order to try to find the first step in moving on.

“Stop it,” you snapped while lifting your head up, and you watched as his eyes widened. You never had spoken to him like this before. “Just get out, Harry. Not that I would be able to anyway, but I never want to see you again.”

The pained look on Harry’s face was one that would be etched into your mind forever.

“Y/N, please don’t make us leave it like this,” Harry’s hand tightened its hold on you.

“I’m sorry, but how are we supposed to leave it? Am I supposed to just shake your hand, and thank you for the last year and some odd months of sex? For leading me to believe that I could ever be something besides the other woman? You told me you were going to figure it out. You told me you were going to leave her.”

“Yeah, well I thought I had more time,” Harry’s voice was raising again as he dropped his hand. “But I don’t, and if I don’t do this, then I have nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.”

“You’d have me!”

The quiet hung over the two of you as you stared into each other’s eyes, and you felt as if your heart was being ripped out of your chest when that didn’t earn a response.

“Right,” you laughed sadly, lifting a hand to push away your tears. “I’m not enough. I’ll never fucking be enough for you.”

You kept your eyes down as you waited to hear his footsteps, but all you heard was the sound of his bag thumping against the ground. His large hands were then on your face - tilting your head up to look at him.

“You are more than enough for me,” Harry said, holding your eyes so you knew he was telling the truth. “You’re too good for me, and that’s why I have to let you go. You deserve someone better. Someone that can offer you everything that you want - everything that I can’t.”

“I don’t want anyone else, don’t you understand?” You clawed at his sides, clinging to him harder than you ever had. “I want you. Just you, Harry.”

It was then you felt his mouth against yours, and you didn’t even need to feel it for more than a second before you were fully giving in. You immediately separated your lips, tongues rolling over each other’s as he slotted himself between your legs. He tipped your head back even further, eliciting a moan from you as you felt him beginning to suck on your tongue.

Your hands ran down to his jeans that he had on, grateful of the fact he hadn’t worn a belt so you could easily pop the button before pulling down the zipper.

Slipping your hand inside his briefs, Harry gasped into your mouth as you took him into your palm - your thumb brushing over his soft tip. He was always so heavy in your hand, and you loved it.

“Y/N,” he whimpered as he pulled his lips away from yours, resting his forehead against your temple.

“I need you to properly say goodbye to me,” you panted as your hand worked his shaft.

Your command rang in Harry’s ears for just a moment before he nodded, reaching down to pull the hem of your jumper up - the article of clothing abandoning your body. You didn’t have anything on underneath, and he lowered you so that you were laying fully on your bed. He eventually maneuvered the two of you to have you both laying in the middle of your mattress as his hands reached up to knead at your breasts.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I need to memorize you. Every bit of you.”

Soon you also removed his shirt from his torso, and he kicked his jeans and briefs the rest of the way off his body to have him fully naked.

“I wish I could take my time with you,” he breathed as he pulled off your leggings and your underwear. “But I can’t be too long.”

You shook your head softly. “I really don’t care. I just need to feel you one last time.”

Harry ran his hand down the expanse of your abdomen before both hands cupped your hips, and he flipped you over onto your stomach. The sudden movement pulled a gasp from you, and you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you knew where this was going.

He was going to be rough with you, and you secretly hoped he would choose this as the last way to have you other than making it slow.

“Condom?” Harry questioned as he ran his length between your folds.

“Have you gone without using one with her?” You looked at him over your shoulder.

After the first few times of being with each other, the two of you decided to forgo condoms. You had an IUD, and he always used condoms when sleeping with her, so you knew the two of you would be safe.

Harry shook his head. “No, and either way, I haven’t slept with her in a couple months.”

“Harry,” you sighed, dropping your forehead against the bed. “No wonder she went through your phone.”

“I know,” he cleared his throat. “I promise that I tried, but the last time I did…I couldn’t get hard.”

“Jesus,” you knew that was the nail in the coffin.

Harry had always talked about how sex with her was okay, but that it didn’t compare to what he had with you. He had agreed to still sleep with her every couple of weeks to avoid suspicion, so now you understood exactly why she had gone digging for answers.

“It’s fucked up.”

“It is,” you agreed, but there was a part of you that felt your stomach swirling at his confession. “Can only get hard for your whore, hm?”

Harry’s palm cracked down against one of the globes of your ass - causing your body to jolt forward as you huffed out a laugh.

“Watch it,” he sneered, and you felt yourself clench down around nothing.

“What? Isn’t that all I am? Just a hole to stuff your big-”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence as you felt Harry’s cock enter you with one hard thrust, and your fingers gripped to your bedding as he stretched you beyond comprehension.

“Shut-up,” Harry hissed through gritted teeth, and he brought his hand up to redden your other ass cheek - making them even.

After a moment, he started up a vigorous pace as he pulled your cheeks apart to properly see where he disappeared inside of you. His eyes lingered on your tightest hole, and you squirmed as you felt him spit down against it.

“You say you’re my whore?” The pad of Harry’s thumb began to smear the wetness over the band of muscles, and you choked on a moan as he dipped the tip inside. “Then you’ll take it like one.”

His digit then entered you fully, and he began to pulse it in and out of you at the same rhythm that his prick consumed you at.

You could feel your arousal making a complete mess of him while dripping down your thighs, and the noises that were produced from his cock penetrating your cunt had both of you completely, and utterly turned on.

“Sweet little pussy splitting itself open just for me,” Harry rambled aimlessly as he kept up his movements. “You said it yourself, it had never been properly taken care of until me. Isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, jaw slack as you let Harry use your body for both of your pleasures.

Smirking softly, he knew you were blissed out from what he was giving you, and he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he moved one leg to have his foot against the mattress - snapping his hips against your ass that much harder.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mewled, earning yourself another slap to one of the rounds of your ass. “I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah? Been hardly giving it to you, and you’re already going to cream over my cock?”

His words pushed you over the edge, and you could feel your orgasm not only coating him, but also spraying against the inside of your legs.

“That’s it, baby,” Harry praised you. “Good girl spraying all over me - getting us all wet. Filthiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your toes curled as his thick cock rode you through the aftershocks of your climax, and you threw your hands behind you to grip to the back of his thighs - causing your torso to hover over the bed.

“Oh, that’s how you want it?” Harry clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “You want it harder?”

“Yes,” you begged, arching your back to feel him even deeper. “Ruin me.”

With Harry’s thumb still satiating your tightest hole, his other hand gripped to the top of your shoulder so he could use that leverage to force you back against his powerful thrusts. Small ‘uh’s of pleasure left you with every clash of skin, and you just knew he was going to have your squirting again.

“Not going to be able to go for much longer, Y/N,” Harry forced out, feeling his own orgasm brewing at the base of his spine. “Feels so fucking good.”

“Give it to me,” you pleaded, nails digging into his skin. “I need you to come in me, and make sure you push it up in there. Let me keep it. Let me keep you.”

Harry felt his abs clenching at those words, and it was as if they triggered that build up he had been fighting against to try and last as long as possible to completely crumble. His come began to pour into you, and he kept up his heavy thrusts to fuck it as far up into you as he could - just like you asked.

The feeling of his orgasm coating your walls had you coming once again, and you felt yourself spraying even more as Harry removed his thumb from your ass.

“Fuck yes,” he gasped, your squirt coating his abdomen. “So good, baby. So fucking good.”

Harry worked the two of you through your highs as much as he could before he was collapsing against your back - the two of you buckling down against the mattress. He stayed inside of you, not wanting to leave the warmth that was your delicious cunt just yet.

Once he gave himself a moment to catch his breath, he sat up to carefully flip you over - all while still sheathed inside.

“Harry,” the way you said his name had his eyes snapping up to meet yours, and that’s when he saw the tears of both pleasure and sorrow filling your own. “Please don’t leave me.”

The knot that began to form in Harry’s throat grew fast, and eventually he too had tears coating his cheeks. “I don’t want to. I want to stay here with you - where I feel safe.”

Your arms reached up to wrap around his neck, and you pulled him tight against you.

“I would always keep you safe,” you whispered as you ran your hands through his sweaty curls. “My sweet boy. I want nothing more than to have you forever.”

Harry whimpered as he shoved his face into the side of your neck. “I-I love you, Y/N,” he sobbed as he gripped to your ribcage. “I love you.”

Your chest jumped as a sob of your own bounced off the walls surrounding you. “I love you too, Harry. I love you so much.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Three months. It had been three months since you last saw, or even heard, from Harry.

After giving yourselves over to each other one last time, and confessing your love for one another, he collected his bag…and he left.

And today - today had to be the hardest day of them all.

You knew it was his wedding day, no matter how hard you tried to push it from your mind. It was all you could think about as you sat on your couch. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn on the TV, or to put on some music.

You just stared at the wall as you allowed your mind to be completely consumed by him.

It was self-inflicted torture as this point, but you couldn’t force yourself to think of anything else.

You had hoped that the absence of him would cause your thoughts of him to dwindle, as well as the hold he had on your heart, however, that wasn’t the case. You missed him more than you ever thought you could.

Your friends didn’t see you anymore, and you were barely making it by at work. You were a shell of your former self.

For the longest time you had wished that he had forgotten something of his behind, but now you’re glad that he hadn’t. You didn’t know how you would’ve reacted if you had found a stray shirt, or a misplaced sock. You’re sure that it would’ve been the cause of a whole new spiral.

The only piece you had left that reminded you that what you had was real, was the postcard from Hawaii that you had tacked to the cork board by the desk in your room. He had gone on a business trip with her and her father, as well as his father, and he was gone for almost a month.

You were shocked when you received it in the mail two weeks after he had left, and the message he scribbled onto the card made you smile.

‘Currently staying on one of the most beautiful islands in the world, but all I can think about is you. I wish you were here with me. I can’t wait to come home and be with you again.

xo - H’

You knew he hated that stupid arranged relationship with her, but you couldn’t believe he had sent that postcard because the two of you had only been secretly seeing each other for a little less than six months. What you thought was just going to be a one night stand after pulling the hottest guy at the bar turned into quick hookups, and weekends together when she was out of town.

There was a strong part of you that knew you couldn’t keep doing this to yourself, but you just couldn’t find it in yourself to let go.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

As you blinked your eyes open, you weren’t sure what time it was when you had managed to cry yourself to sleep on your couch. Your eyes fluttered shut again with a hum, and that’s when you registered your head was against a hard surface while fingers were threading through your hair.

You sat up quickly, and your lips parted when you saw Harry sitting next to you on the couch - fully decked out in a suit.

“Harry,” you croaked. Your throat was raw from all the crying you had done.

“Hi, baby,” Harry sent you a soft smile with tears in his eyes as he cupped the side of your neck - thumb grazing your jawline.

Your eyes darted down to his left hand that still sat in his lap, and you braced yourself at the fact that you were going to see a gold band wrapped around his ring finger.

But it wasn’t there.

Gasping, you looked back to his face, and you watched as his eyebrows furrowed together. “I couldn’t do it.”

“What do you mean?” All logic escaped you, still completely overwhelmed at the fact that he was here in front of you again.

“The wedding. The marriage. The whole fucking relationship,” Harry shook his head. “I couldn’t do it anymore. I…I left her at the altar, and I came straight here. Let myself in using your spare key when you didn’t answer. I got scared.”

Your heart was now pounding in your chest as you registered what he was telling you.

He wasn’t married. And he wasn’t hers anymore.

“Harry,” you repeated, reaching out to cradle his face in your hands - thumbing at his cheeks as if you were making sure he was actually here. “You came back.”

“I should’ve never left, Y/N,” Harry licked over his bottom lip. “I was an idiot, and I would understand if you never forgave me, but I had to come and see you. I’ve missed you so much.”

You pushed yourself onto your knees as you closed the space between the two of you, and you lowered your thumb down to press the pad of it against his bottom lip.

“I want to be upset,” you confessed. “And I know I should feel more angry than I am, but I’m not. I’m just so happy you’re here. I haven’t stopped thinking about you once, and it wasn’t for lack of trying.”

You both chuckled sadly as Harry’s hands came up to rest on your hips. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to scream at me. I’d let you yell at me every day, and tell me how much of an asshole I am if it would make you feel better.”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, it doesn’t matter now. You’re here. We’re together.”

“Together,” Harry confirmed with a nod.

“I love you,” you whispered as you dropped your forehead against his.

“I love you too.”

And then finally, the feeling that you had yearned for for weeks now was once again yours. Heart shaped lips pressed against your own, and you allowed the sensation to take you over completely.

Harry was here. And he was yours.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Taglist: @daydreamingofmatilda @prettygurl-2009 @ghoststyles @lillefroe @gem1712 (if you’d like to be added to my taglist, please send me a DM!)

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garbinge · 1 year

Text

Clean Cut

Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of bullets, war, shrapnel, anxiety, worry, car accidents. Slightly angsty.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Okay so I just caught up with all The Rookie seasons and I’m just LIVING for Chenford. Like LIVING. buuuuuut I noticed there wasn’t much Tim x Reader fic out there soooooo I figured why not! This idea came to my head at some point when I was watching and I also have like a whole story of their life beyond and before this moment but enjoy this little reworked snippet from 2x08.

The Rookie Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics

It had felt like a long day already and you had only been clocked in at the hospital for two hours. You still had 10 hours left in your shift and it felt like you experienced a whole day’s worth already. Being a corpsman for a Marine squad prepared you for a lot but sometimes the uniqueness of LA and the people who resided in it and tended to need your RN medical services at St. Stevens ran you for your money.

Currently, you were updating patient charts during the lull that was likely to last all of two seconds but it beat staying an extra hour to finish your paperwork likely unpaid because the hospital rarely approved overtime for RNs.

“Wanna tell me why it’s so crazy for a Tuesday?”

The statement from your coworker caused you to look at them over your shoulder and let out a laugh.

“I wish I had an answer to that, but I also feel like anything I say will jinx it even more.” You pushed the computer cart against the wall and moved over to your coworkers cart. “You’ve got like 15 pages here, what is this?” You picked up the manila folder that was larger than your normal ER patient folders.

“Police car accident. There’s a few of them in the ER right now, these things always include tons of paperwork. Everyone needs to cover their asses.”

Your heart started to beat faster at the mention of a police accident but what really caused you to go into panic mode was seeing your husband's name on the report.

Before you could even answer your co-worker you were moving down the stairs, knowing the elevator would take too long. You knew the elevator would probably be quicker but the thought of standing still while you waited for and in it would drive your mind crazy so rushing down the stairs was the better alternative.

Tim was sitting on one of the ER beds, the scene of it caused you to stop for a minute. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Tim hurt waiting to be treated. In all honesty this was probably the tamest medical treatment scenario you two had been in together. He looked fine from afar, but that didn’t stop the worry from boiling in your gut.

“What happened?” You were next to him within seconds, the worry being the fuel of moving you from the staircase entrance to his side in seconds.

“I rear ended a civilian.” Tim knew better than to try and calm you down with pleasantries and relaxing mantras.

“Jesus.” Your hand moved to your pocket in search of your pen light. Quickly, you flashed it in front of his eyes, searching for his eyes to constrict and then dilate when you moved the light away.

“They already did this.” Tim’s voice was neutral, but you knew he was annoyed.

“Humor me.” Your head tilted, now your own annoyance was clear to him.

His eyes softened as they met yours and he nodded which gave you the okay to keep running through the trauma checklist in your head.

“This isn’t like you.” Tim said after a few minutes of silence between you as he humored you by lifting up his arms as you pressed down on his ribs and checked his reflexes.

“In what way?” You talked as you continued to look him over.

“I’ve come home and told you I’ve gotten shot at and you barely react, I tell you that I got into a car accident and you’re acting like I have internal bleeding.” Tim’s eyebrows raised.

“Did they do a CT scan? You could have internal bleeding. Especially if the airbags went off.”

“Doc.” The use of the nickname only 13 people in the world knew you as caused you to stop your examination of Tim and stand in front of him, slightly defeated.

“If I worried about every close call you encounter everyday, I’d be dysfunctional. This.” You pointed towards him and the bed, “This is tangible. This actually happened.”

Tim nodded and a smirk slightly filled his face.

“You doubtin’ me, Sarge?” You frowned as you asked him, using your own nickname for him.

“No,” Tim let out a chuckle and shook his head before looking back up at you. “I know better than to ever doubt you.”

“Smart man.” Officer Lopez walked up to the two of you with a smile. “How’s he doin’?” She looked between the both of you.

“He’s fine. No signs of a concussion,” you looked at Angela and then back at Tim, “and no signs of internal bleeding.” You smirked at him knowing he was going to give you one back.

“Give us a minute, Lopez?” Tim stood up and ripped the hospital bracelet off his wrist.

“Yea, just wanted to let you know the break lights were cut in the car you hit, foul play, you’ll likely be in the clear.” She explained while looking at the both of you, relief coming as a sigh from both you and Tim. “I’ll be in the lobby.” She nodded at him and squeezed your arm to say goodbye before leaving the ER.

“We goin’ back to the conversation we were having or a new one?” You asked Tim as he towered over you.

“You pulled shrapnel out of my abdomen in Afghanistan and you look more worried checking me for a concussion.” Tim said with his arms crossed. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Your one worded answer wasn’t convincing.

“Don’t lie to me.” Tim said more seriously than any of his other statements.

You sighed, “Like I said, this is tangible. In Afghanistan, we weren’t exactly given the space to worry. Here, I feel like it’s all I have to hold onto. But again, if I held onto every worry I’d be dysfunctional. I know you can handle yourself when bullets are flying, when shit goes sideways, it’s these out of your control scenarios that just get me flustered.” You explained moving your hands around as you talked.

Tim brought you in for a hug, knowing nothing he’d say could change anything. “You do realize, I’m the one that rear-ended the civilian, not the other way around, right? Totally in my control.” He teased you.

“Not according to Angela.” You corrected him and he chuckled.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He placed a quick kiss on the top of your head.

“See you tonight, I already texted Angela all the concussion signs in case we missed anything.” Letting your last bit of worry out.

“You haven’t missed a single diagnosis or injury since I met you, Doc!” He called out from a few feet from you.

“You know, I’m technically not a doc, anymore, Sarge!” You yelled out to him.

He turned around with his arms up as he continued to walk backwards. “And I’m not technically a Sargeant anymore.”

“Old habits die hard!” You yelled back just before the elevator doors opened and he stepped backwards into the elevator flashing you a quick smile before the doors closed and he was back on duty.

#Tim Bradford #Tim Bradford x Reader #Tim Bradford x F!Reader #The Rookie #The Rookie Fanfiction #The Rookie Fanfic #The Rookie Tim Bradford #Tim Bradford Fanfic #Tim Bradford Fanfiction #Timothy Bradford

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animeomegas · 5 months

Text

The Quest for a Second Life - Part 5 - 50 Shades of Audacity (1)

KAKASHI X ALPHA!READER

Summary: If suddenly waking up in an uncanny office had been bad, this time was worse, because you had a job interview, and the guy before you had just stormed out in tears. Why did you pick this world again? And why is your boss an asshole? And sexy? And with a nice voice? Fuck, this wasn't going to be good. GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple

Word Count: 10.8k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, sex while both parties are a little tipsy, workplace violations, questions about someone not eating lunch due to being a workaholic, and overuse of the world asshole as an adjective. All alphas have dicks, fyi.

A/N: Happy Holidays everyone! And a special happy holidays to those who guessed that our next omega was going to be Kakashi!!! December is well underway and I'm working hard to get all these chapters finished in time for the epilogue to be released on Christmas! The dynamic is different with this one, but I hope everyone enjoys nonetheless <333 I hope you enjoy the choice for the second character, @omeganronpa I'm honoured to call you my friend <333

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Epilogue

In the span of one blink, you went from standing in the library with James, to sitting on an uncomfortable chair in some kind of office waiting room. No matter how many times you jumped between realities, you swore you would never get used to the complete sensory change that happened in milliseconds. You had changed positions, clothes, company and scenery just like that.

Trying to gain your bearings, you tried to take in your new surroundings. Your first thought was that you had some serious déjà vu, as James’ uncanny valley of an office sprung to mind. Seriously, how many times were you going to suddenly gain consciousness in a soulless office?

At least this one was a lot less creepy, you admitted. It had doors and windows for starters, but the cavernous size of the room also helped diminish the claustrophobic feeling. Rather than beige, the room was decorated in a tasteful, modern, monochrome, boring but inoffensive, and better than too much beige in your opinion.

The copious amounts of soulless corporate art on every surface were the final touches that convinced you this was a real office and not set dressing for purgatory.

The waiting room was full of people though. You hadn’t seen this many people in one place since Itachi took you into town, and the general air of anxiety coming off them all was putting you on edge.

You fidgeted, uncomfortable at suddenly wearing formal business wear. The blue folder that was sitting on your lap shifted slightly, but you paid it no mind as you straightened everything out and readjusted yourself into a more comfortable position. To your left, what you could only describe as the combination of a modern water feature and grandfather clock chimed, signalling it as 09:00 AM.

‘James? Can you hear me?’

‘I can, human alpha.’

‘Great. Can you give me a run down of this pocket dimension please? It’s been like, two weeks since I read the blurb.’

‘Of course. ’50 Shades of Audacity’ follows MC, an alpha graduate student who lands the role of personal assistant to one of the most famous CEOs of the time, omega, Kakashi Hatake. MC discovers that Kakashi is hiding a submissive streak, and together, they explore their relationship while preparing for the yearly Autumn Company Party.’

You nodded idly as James explained it, vague memories coming back to you. The man next to you shot you a weird look, and you realised you were nodding at seemingly nothing. You cleared your throat and shifted awkwardly. Whoops.

Regardless, the blurb put your current situation into perspective. When you had chosen the book, you had expected to enter the world already working as a personal assistant, but you had a sneaking suspicion that this was the job interview and all the people sat with you were competition.

To confirm your suspicion, you opened the folder on your lap, and yep, it was filled with important documents, including your CV, degree certificate, and several references. Damn, for someone decently young, you seemed to be the perfect candidate. That did relieve some of the tension. The world was literally set up to push you into the role, and you were the perfect candidate, surely there was nothing to worry about. For now, you decided to try and relax. Job interviews were a pain in the ass, but this one hopefully wouldn’t be too bad. And you could always talk to James to pass the time.

‘James, I know you must be thinking something along the lines of, ‘what kind of human picks a life where they have a job, when they could choose to not have a job?’’

‘I have never had such a thought.’

‘But I’m playing the long game, James,’ you continued, ignoring her response. ‘This Hatake guy must be rolling in it, and so once we’re serious, there would be no reason for me to work anymore! And it’s not like we’d get divorced in an erotica novel, that wouldn’t make sense, so I just need this job to meet him, make him fall in love with me, and then, if I stay here, I’ll have a fancy CEO husband, and everything will work out great.’

‘I see. I believe humans term that strategy, ‘gold digging’.’

You were planning to argue back, but your outrage died on your lips when you realised that she was kind of right. You were only going to choose this omega if you actually loved him, of course, but you couldn’t deny that the main reason you had chosen this book in the first place was the money and possibility of a cushy life. And being able to retain access to the internet which was something you’d have to give up for a life with Itachi.

‘What backstory elements are set in stone here?’ you asked, realising that the amnesia trick wasn’t going to work a second time.

‘Primarily your qualifications and educational history. You also own both a flat and a car, although how you obtained those is up to you.’

Nice, that gave you a lot of freedom to work with. Also… was your flat nice? And what about your car? You hoped so, but even if they weren’t, you could get Hatake to pay for a nice upgrade.

A man with a clipboard walked out of the office door to your left and everyone in your vicinity snapped to attention. He had brown hair and intense, dark eyes that were a little unnerving. “The interviews for the personal assistant job have now begun. You will be called up one at a time. Ren Shimomura.”

The man who had given you a strange look earlier got up and walked into the office with a confident smile, his briefcase swinging gently by his side. When the door closed behind him, everyone relaxed a little and went back to their pointless busy tasks.

‘So, James, what can I expect from this job interview?’ you asked. You figured it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared, even if the universe was going to intervene for your success.

‘That question is more difficult to answer than you might think, human. Despite this pocket dimension being one of the most popular in the erotica category, no one has ever successfully passed the interview and obtained the personal assistant job.’

Your stomach dropped. What? That couldn’t be right, could it?

You laughed nervously, sure that you had misheard. ‘What? Surely the universe needs the person to get the job.’

‘Yes, it has been causing quite the issue. This world has been scheduled for removal for being too difficult to follow. You will be the last person from your realm to ever enter this one, whether you decide to stay or not.’

‘Thanks for warning me before I picked it,’ you ‘said’, your mental voice taking on a tinge of bitterness. So, you were pretty much doomed to failure here? Great.

‘I didn’t warn you, human.’

‘I know.’

Your mental conversation ended as the door to the office opened and the man, Ren, stormed out, looking like he was holding back angry tears. He exited the room swiftly, without so much of a glance back.

That certainly didn’t make you feel any better about your chances.

Neither did your name being called seconds later.

The man with the clipboard smiled at you as you stood, folder in hand. “Just in there, Mr. Hatake is waiting for you.”

You nodded and approached the door. Right, this was fine. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself of your situation. You didn’t need this job. You wouldn’t run out of money without it, you wouldn’t get blacklisted or arrested if something went wrong, you couldn’t die if something went very wrong. The very worst-case scenario was that you bungled this, spent the next two weeks enjoying some alone time in this world, and then returned to your beautiful witch.

So, really, what reason did you have to be nervous?

With that in mind, you took a fortifying breath and walked into the office with your head held high. This CEO couldn’t scare you.

The design of the office was much the same as the waiting room, with a monochrome colour scheme and minimal furniture. The entire back wall was glass, which bathed the office in natural light, but cast shadows around the impressive desk in the middle of the room. Behind the desk was an imposing desk chair that was currently faced away from you. The back of the chair was so high that you couldn’t technically tell if Hatake was sitting in it or not. In front of the desk was a much less impressive desk chair; presumably that chair was for you.

You walked towards your chair, marvelling at how cliché the whole ‘tall chair spin reveal’ thing was. What was he, a Bond villain? The main question though, was if he’d also be accidentally flashing his nipples at you. You stifled a laugh imagining a scary CEO turning around in his chair only for the buttons on his shirt to come flying off.

“Did I say that you could sit down?” The voice came from the highbacked chair, which was still facing away from you.

The CEO’s voice was hot, you couldn’t deny that, but his attitude was already ugly. What kind of high and mighty asshole spoke to people like that? Were you supposed to just stay standing until he offered the seat when he couldn’t even be bothered to face you? Fuck that.

Suddenly, what was remaining of your nervousness bled out of you, replaced by annoyance. Honestly, you had already accepted that you weren’t going to get this job or this omega as soon as James had explained the situation, but maybe you could still get something out of this. Like catharsis. You could berate Hatake on behalf of every shitty boss you couldn’t berate in the past and then this world would still be worth it.

“Unless you’re suffering from short term memory loss, there’s no need for me to answer that question.”

Finally, that seems to goad him into turning around. The chair swivelled, revealing Kakashi Hatake in all his glory. He was dressed in the exact kind of suit you expected for someone like him, expertly tailored, incredibly expensive, and in a tasteful blue colour. Just peeking out from his collar you noticed some clear scent patches, and you imagined you’d find the same ones on his wrists. He had grey-silver hair styled in a way that must have required a significant amount of hair wax, and equally grey eyes, one of which had a vertical scar running through it. He even had a frankly adorable beauty mark, what the fuck.

Fine. He was hot. That didn’t mean he wasn’t an asshole.

The look he was giving you was somehow both disparaging and uninterested, like he was looking at a badly painted wall.

“Why do you want this job?” he asked, voice bored and condescending. “You don’t seem like you’d be particularly good at it.”

You grit your teeth at his blatant disrespect, “Jobs provide the money which can be exchanged for goods and services required to facilitate survival, you see. Perhaps the silver spoon in your mouth prevented you from learning that dichotomy.” You missed your witch.

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. He held out a hand, and you wordlessly passed him your folder of documents. You were honestly surprised that he hadn’t just kicked you out already. His motivations became clear however, when he picked out your CV, ripped it in half, and then tossed it in the bin.

This asshole! You were furious.

Hatake pressed a button on a raised box on his desk and began to speak into it, presumably to dismiss you and ask for the next person to be sent in.

You didn’t need this job, you couldn’t get into any meaningful trouble, and this man was royally pissing you off. Something in you just snapped.

“Tenzou, send—”

You grabbed him by his boring, blue tie and stood, pulling him partially over the desk and towards you. He gasped in surprise, letting go of the button as both hands flew up to grab your wrist. You expected him to immediately pull you off him, but he didn’t. He was still, staring at you with wide eyes. For the first time since you’d walked into his office, it felt like he was properly looking at you.

“I am the best fucking personal assistant out of any of those people out there, and I will not have some bratty CEO talk down to me, understood?”

“I’ll call security,” he said quietly, voice strangely hoarse.

“Don’t bother.” You let him go and he fell back heavily into his ridiculous chair.

“Senpai?” The clipboard man’s voice floated through the speaker on the black box. “Is everything okay? You cut out.”

The man didn’t reply to the message, he only stared at you. His face was blank, but you had the feeling that there was a lot going on inside his head.

‘Remember the story, human.’

For a moment, you thought James was encouraging you to play nice for the sake of the story, but then you realised that she meant. Fuck, that’s right, Kakashi Hatake was a secret submissive. He was probably very turned on and very confused right now. You sent him a cocky grin.

“The job starts Monday, yes?” He nodded, dumbly. “I’ll see you then, 08:00 sharp. All my documents are in the folder.” You walked to the door confidently, and just as you reached it, you turned. “Have a good day, sir.”

You opened the door just as the clipboard man tried to do the same on the other side. You paid neither him nor any of the other candidates any mind, you just strode towards the exit, adrenaline rushing through your veins.

The fresh air and sun hit you as you stepped outside into the office’s car park.

‘James, oh my god, I grabbed him by his tie.’

‘I saw, human, it was very unexpected. No other human has attempted such a method.’

‘I would so be blacklisted if this were real, James. Did… Did I do a good job? It felt like I did at the time, playing up to his submissive side, but now I just feel like I was crazy and there’s no way he’d give me the job.’

‘Only time will tell, human, I do not have the answers.’

‘Time… I can do that.’ You gazed out over the sea of cars, all shimmering in the sun. ‘Now, James, which car is mine?’

…

Once you had successfully found your nicer than expected car, you headed to your mysterious flat. It took longer than you thought, but at least you’d learnt some more about James; she was terrible at giving directions and did not know what a roundabout was.

Your flat, much like your car, was nicer than you expected for a recent graduate that worked as a personal assistant. It was stylish and cosy, with lots of wood tones and warm, textured fabrics. It could have fallen out of an interior design magazine, right down to the perfectly placed bowls of fruit. The flat even had a guest room and a home office.

You were going to put this one down to porn logic again and figure out some sort of explanation for why you had the money for this in your backstory.

After doing some snooping around the flat, you flopped down on your bed, feeling strangely exhausted. You pulled out your phone (and how strange it was to have modern technology back!) and checked the date. It was Friday lunch time, and you didn’t have to go to the job, presuming you even got it, until Monday. That meant you had an entire weekend to do what you wanted. That was the best news you’d heard all day.

‘James, is the entire world, I guess, loaded, for want of a better word? Like, theoretically, if I travelled across the world to a random village, would the people there be real? Does the world function outside of the story?’

‘Once you choose to remain in a world, it functions exactly like the one you came from, yes, complete with up to billions of people who each have their own lives. Not everything is ah, loaded, in this demo though. I would recommend staying firmly within this city for the time being.”

‘Amazing! That’s so exciting, James!’

‘If you say so.’

Alongside modern technology, staying in this world would also give you more chance to travel. With Itachi, you would be mostly going on foot, perhaps on a horse if you were lucky, but here you could be on the other side of the world in a day.

That was for future you to weigh up though, right now you needed to find a bank statement of some kind, because you wanted to spend this weekend pampering yourself and you needed to know your budget. You could think about Kakashi Hatake and this world later, once you had your thoughts in order.

The weekend passed in a blur of bubble baths, food delivery apps, and films. You’d even gone for a dip in your complex’s pool. It had been nice to recharge. You had enjoyed spending time with Itachi immensely, but you’d had almost no proper alone time for over half a month, and it was sorely needed.

The only other thing of note happened on Saturday, when you received an email from Hatake’s company, which contained your new company account and login details.

…

Walking into work on Monday was a surreal feeling that you couldn’t put into words. No one acted like anything strange had happened. You were treated like a normal new hire, which you suspected meant Hatake had kept the details of your interview to himself.

Speaking of Hatake, he was apparently in meetings all morning and so you wouldn’t see him for a few hours. You didn’t know if you were irritated or relieved that your likely awkward reunion would be postponed.

“So, here is Kakashi’s calendar, which kind of functions like the core of your job,” Iruka, the man who was training you, said. “You’ll be in charge of organising his appointments and commitments and reminding him to attend them.” The last part was added with a tone that suggested Hatake had not always been the best at either being on time or showing up at all.

“Got it. No double bookings, and smack Hatake with a ruler if he tries to escape.”

Iruka snorted, but quickly smothered the laugh with a hand. “Pretty much. For today, I’ve gone through your inbox and marked the emails that require appointments as urgent. You just need to schedule them and add them to his calendar. It’s pretty busy at the moment because of the Autumn Company Party at the end of the month, so don’t worry if everything’s a bit much. My desk is over there, so you can ask for help at any time, okay?”

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” You grinned at him, and he smiled back.

“Good luck!” With that he was gone. That wasn’t the first time the Autumn Company Party had come up, but you still weren’t sure what that had to do with the plot of his pocket dimension. It certainly wasn’t as straight forward as ‘collect the potion ingredients’.

‘James, what’s the deal with this party? What’s going to happen at it?’

‘There are many, many ways the event can play out, human. Seeing that you are the first to make it past the interview, I cannot even tell you which outcomes are most likely.’

‘Damn. Well, thanks anyway.’

You ended up whizzing through your work. It was incredibly simple, which could have been because they were taking it easy on you for your first day, or because work in general was easier in porn universes. You finished before Hatake was freed from his morning meetings, so you decided to do a little googling on your new boss. As such a high-profile CEO, you were sure you could find some information on him.

You put his name into the search bar and scrolled through the top results.

There were mostly news articles and links to the company websites, but eventually his Wikipedia page popped up and you clicked on it, skimming down the paragraphs immediately. Your eyebrows kept rising up as you read. His father, the original founder of the company had committed suicide when Kakashi was four years old, leaving him an orphan. He had been immediately added to the company’s board of directors (at four years old?!), and when he’d turned eighteen and those overseeing the company didn’t seem keen to pass it back to him, Kakashi had staged a business coup and seized control by force.

Jeez, what a life story.

Closing the Wikipedia page, you opened a couple of articles instead. One was a gossip magazine speculating on his famous bachelorhood and why he hadn’t settled down yet. Another was talking about the large donations he had made to several dog and animal welfare charities. The third was just a listicle of pictures of him from various point throughout his life. Ha. He looked like he was such a cute, grumpy kid.

You had to admit that his character was perfectly set up to redeem him for being an asshole at your first meeting. Dead parents, a tragic backstory, betrayal from those supposed to look after him, an animal lover… You bet that he had been forced to supress his emotions to avoid being manipulated as a child, too. That was about as stereotypical as you could get. Were he a fictional character, his fans would easily excuse any rudeness and ruthlessly defend him online. And that was fine, but they weren’t the ones who had to be on the receiving end of his rudeness.

Ugh, you didn’t know what to do with him. On one hand, you were happy ignoring him for being mean to you in your interview, but on the other, you kind of wanted to get to know him to see what the story was about. Maybe you’d put in a bit of effort as a show of good faith, but if he insisted on rebuffing you, you’d give up and find some other way to enjoy yourself. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.

Dog lovers were your weakness, so you couldn’t give up on him completely, not just yet.

You closed the tabs and, checking the time, you realised you still had some leeway before Hatake was free. You needed to come up with your backstory sharpish, because you didn’t have amnesia this time, and people would likely start asking questions about you once lunch hit. Best get your story straight first.

You grabbed a post-it note and jotted down your favourite acronym, MLHH (Money, Love, Health, Happiness), to keep you on target.

Loving parents, you definitely wanted those. Were they the ones you wanted funding your lifestyle? Hmm, no, how about a rich, eccentric aunt that sent money all the time? Yes, you’d always wanted a fun, rich uncle or aunt to spoil you. Perhaps she had been the one to buy you the house and car. You jotted it all down. You also crafted yourself two best friends and a couple of hobbies, just to enrich your life. As per James’ instructions, you left the academic stuff alone.

“Am I paying you to write details about your own life on post it notes?” A sudden voice from behind made you jump, smacking your knees on the underside of the desk with a bang.

You laughed awkwardly as you came face to face with the man of the hour, Kakashi Hatake, who had chosen a charcoal grey suit for today, giving him an overall monochrome vibe that matched the office building. He was staring at your post it note, unimpressed.

You snatched the note and put it in your pocket. Quick, find some way to change the subject!

“I’ve updated your calendar with more meetings and commitments. This afternoon you only have a phone call with a representative from a company that sells… custom dog bandanas?” You decided not to question it. “The rest of the afternoon is business as usual.”

He watched you for a moment before he nodded, and turned to enter his office door, which was only a few feet from your desk.

“Just so you know,” he said, turning to look at you over his shoulder, “more work is periodically added to your task list, you just need to refresh the page.”

The door slammed shut behind him. You made a frustrated noise. He was so rude, with his annoyingly hot face and perfect voice. God, he got on your nerves like no one else. Ugh, you already regretted deciding to give him a chance.

You refreshed the task list and watched it fill up with new tasks.

Why did you pick a world where you had a job again? Oh yeah, you were playing the long game. The long game sucked.

You spent the rest of the workday completing tasks and flip flopping on whether it was worth trying to chase the plot and romance Hatake. Instinctually you led towards no, but when you remembered how he’d responded to you in the interview, you wavered. Ultimately, your curiosity was too much to resist, so you hatched a plan to spend some time with him.

…

“Did you have someone sneak you lunch through the window, or have you not eaten yet today?” you asked, waltzing into Hatake’s office at exactly 17:05, coat and bag ready to leave.

Hatake finished whatever he was writing before putting down the pen and giving you a flat look. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, and I’m certain I told you to knock before coming in.”

“Firstly, the workday ended five minutes ago so you’re not the boss of me anymore. Secondly, that was the clearest no I’ve ever heard. You should make time to eat lunch, you know, it’s good for you.”

“If you don’t have anything of use to say, then leave.” Ugh, why were you dealing with this asshole again?

“Actually, I do.” He raised an eyebrow at you, like he was already dismissing your message. “Get dinner with me.”

That actually seemed to catch him off guard, if only for a moment. You had honestly been wondering if the side of him you glimpsed in your interview was some kind of hallucination, but there was a flicker of that same man now. Unfortunately, although you could see that, you could also see the moment he shut down the reaction and returned to his flat, impassive stare.

“I’m busy this evening—”

“I already moved your appointment to tomorrow morning.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. You didn’t know if it was irritation at your messing with his schedule or at interrupting him, but you did know that you were getting on his nerves. Good.

“And I suppose, if you’re inviting me, then you’re paying?” he challenged. “Fair warning, I have expensive taste.”

‘James, quick, what’s the best restaurant in the area?’

‘Kakashi Hatake often visits a restaurant about two miles from here, called La Liaison. It’s French, and incredibly pricy.’

Right, you tried to remember what you’d seen you your bank details. You could definitely afford one fancy meal; it was affording everything else after that that was the problem.

Hatake’s smug face at your hesitation spurred you on. You wracked your brain for some kind of solution.

‘James, if I decide that my rich aunt sends me large lump sums of money every month, will my bank account automatically replenish by the end of this demo?’

‘Technically, yes, although it will only happen if you choose this dimension permanently, as your rich aunt does not yet exist. You must also remember to speak or write any information you want to be true for it to take effect.’

Perfect. You could wipe that smug look off Hatake’s face, live a bit more frugally for the rest of the demo, and if for some unknown reason you chose to stay here, you’d have your money automatically replenished. You just had to remember to write the details down after dinner tonight.

“Of course, it’ll be my treat,” you smiled, tips tight. “Do you like French food? I heard La Liaison is lovely.”

Kakashi studied you for a moment, like he was trying to figure out what game you were playing. Just as you thought you’d won the little verbal exchange, Hatake sent you a mocking eye smile. “And how are you planning on gaining a reservation at such short notice? The next available evening bookings are for two months from now.”

You tensed up like you’d been dealt a physical blow. Fuck, you forgot about bookings. There was no way you could allow him to win just like that, though. You took a deep breath, porn logic, I believe in you, please help me out, I’m trying to woo him, just as you wanted. Kind of.

“I’m sure it will all work out!” You voice was artificially chipper, and you could tell that Hatake was picking up on your anxiety. “Come on, what’s the harm? Let’s go!”

He watched you evenly. That was one thing you’d noticed about Hatake; he always thought before he spoke, choosing each action and word carefully. It made sense once you considered his childhood and was equal parts sad and irritating.

Just when you thought he was about to refuse and dismiss you, Hatake chuckled and stood, closing his computer and grabbing his suit jacket from the back of his ridiculously dramatic desk chair.

“I’ll have my chauffeur drop us off,” he said, walking to the door. You followed, kind of stunned that he had agreed at all. He locked the office door behind him. “There’s no parking available at this time of day in the town centre.”

You walked through the office side by side, watching your coworkers pack up or work late.

Everyone noticed you two, armed with bags and coats that made it obvious you were leaving together. There were gasps, there was gossiping, there were whispers. The man with the clipboard, who had introduced himself to you as Yamato, looked like he had seen a ghost. Was it really that strange to see this CEO leave work on time, or was it because he was with you?

Hatake paid them no mind, and you tried to do the same.

It was strange that he agreed to join you, but you didn’t get your hopes up that this meant he suddenly liked you. It was more likely that he was coming in order to force your hand. If you were humiliated by there being no tables, or not being able to afford the food you said you could, it would likely stop you from bothering him outside of work again.

You just really, really hoped there would somehow be a table.

Once you arrived at the car park, there was a sleek, black car waiting for you. You weren’t sure if Hatake had somehow called ahead without you noticing, or if his car was already ready for him, but it was very convenient. If the chauffeur was surprised that Hatake had a guest, he didn’t mention it.

The car was so obviously expensive that you felt a little uncomfortable sitting in it. You had never been so conscious of your hand placement in your life. The brat of a CEO didn’t seem to have the same problem, relaxing easily against the leather, looking right at home. He gave the driver the name of the restaurant, and you were off.

You took a moment to beg the pocket dimension that somehow you would be able to get a seat. ‘Porn logic, I’ve always loved and respected you, please pull through for me, just this once! I won’t be able to handle Hatake’s smug grin without punching him in the face.’

‘My name is James, human, and I cannot control these pocket dimensions.’

You snorted, ‘I wasn’t speaking to you James, sorry.’

“What’s so funny?” Hatake asked, breaking the silence. Oh, you had laughed out loud; you had to stop doing that. Were you also doing it when you were with Itachi, but there were just fewer people around to comment on it? Itachi seemed like the sort who would take a lot of weirdness in stride.

“Your face.”

Hatake let out an amused breath, “Are you always so childish?”

“What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.”

“Approximately five minutes until arrival, sir,” the chauffeur said, speaking through a speaker that connected the front and back sections of the car.

“Just Kakashi is fine,” he sighed. “I’ve told you that a hundred times.”

“If you say so, sir.” Hatake rolled his eyes but dropped the issue.

The final five minutes passed it silence.

…

La Liaison was a small modern building nestled at the very end of the high street, decorated in pastel blue and covered in artificial ivy. The whole building exuded a timeless elegance that made you glad your work dress code was formal. Stepping through the doors, you were welcomed by warm lighting, live piano music, and an impeccably dressed host. This was the exact kind of place you could see Hatake fitting right in.

“Good afternoon, and welcome to La Liaison. Can I take the name on your reservation, please?”

You could practically feel the amusement radiating off the smug asshole behind you as you were faced with the exact situation he had predicted. You just had to go for it. You believed in the porn logic!

(And if it didn’t work you were going to return to your flat with your tail between your legs, make James pull you out of this dimension early, and then ask Itachi for a potion that could remove memories instead of bringing them back.)

“Ah, well, we don’t technically have a reservation, but an acquaintance of mine mentioned that they just had to cancel theirs, so we were hoping there’d be a free table.”

Please work, please work, please work.

The two seconds between your request and the host’s response felt like an agonising eternity. Failure wasn’t an option; you couldn’t lose to your awful boss.

The relief you felt when the host’s face melted into a smile almost knocked you to your knees.

“Is that so? Yes, I just got off the phone with them, you’re lucky no one else has claimed the table yet. If you’ll pass my college your coats, I’ll take you to your table.”

Yes, yes, yes!! You loved porn logic so much. It seemed like anything was fair game as long as it pushed you and Mr. Smug together. Speaking of Mr. Smug, you mouthed ‘I told you so’, as you walked to your table. He did not respond.

The table was, unsurprisingly, very romantic. It was secluded away in the corner, pressed up against a window and yet sectioned from the rest of the restaurant by a divider. The table sat two people, and its white tablecloth was covered in candles and rose petals. Of course, the cancelled reservation was for a romantic date. You weren’t going to complain though; a table was a table.

You both sat down. You briefly debated pulling out the chair for Hatake, but you decided against it at the last minute. You were both handed menus and informed of the soup of the day before the waiter left you in peace. The illusion of privacy helped you relax, despite the stuffy atmosphere.

“An acquaintance, huh?” Kakashi asked, unfolding his napkin and laying it over his lap. He obviously didn’t believe your lie.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly annoying?” you said, instead of answering his question.

“Once or twice.”

“Well then,” you shot him a sarcastic smile, “I’m glad you have such honest people in your life.”

“As am I.” The eye smile he sent you this time seemed more genuine, and you had to hold back your laugh.

The conversation faded for a moment as the background chatter from the rest of the restaurant filled the space. It was weird to be here with him, and maybe you were still riding the high of getting a table, but you were already enjoying yourself.

“So… you come here often?” you asked, picking up the menu. You supressed a wince at the prices. “It seems like you’re right at home.”

“It makes for a convenient location to dazzle those who demand such treatment before they’ll sign anything.”

“Ugh, so this is where you take people to schmooze them? Gross.” You flipped over the menu to find the drinks section, only to belatedly realise that the drinks had their own menu already on the table. “I can’t imagine you doing that successfully; you’re so rude.”

“Maybe you just bring out the worst in me.”

The way he reused your words from earlier reluctantly brought a smile to your face. Okay fine. Fine! You’d admit that he was witty, and you had some good chemistry. And he was hot. But that was it! That didn’t mean you were going to fall in love with someone so annoying!

‘I believe you were also interested in his love for dogs, human alpha.’

‘James, I’m trying to live in denial here, and you’re ruining it.’

‘My apologies. Does that mean that I should also refrain from mentioning your obvious obsession with his beauty mark?’

Sometimes, you weren’t sure that James wasn’t an elaborate troll.

Scanning the menu, you decided the vegetarian pasta looked nice. And if it was also the cheapest thing on the menu, well that was just a coincidence. This better be one of the best meals of your life.

Kakashi left his menu completely untouched. Right, he’d been here countless of times to charm people into signing away their money. He was probably treating this dinner as something similar, but with you wanting something from him instead. You doubted he’d believe you if you said you were doing this out of curiosity. But the questioned remained, how could you make this feel different for him?

Suddenly, it hit you; he liked when other people took control. You had an idea.

‘James, can you tell me what Kakashi normally orders from here?’

‘He always orders one of the seafood dishes, accompanied by a white wine.’

Right. Perfect. What you were about to do would be so out of order in real life, but you had plot armour, and honestly you wanted to see what would happen.

When the waiter returned, he directed his, “Are you ready to order?”, towards Kakashi. He probably recognised him if he was a regular, and figured he was schmoozing another hapless soul.

That didn’t fit what you had in mind though.

“Yes, we are,” you said confidently, before Kakashi could speak. “We’ll have a bottle of the Chateau Sixtine Blanc and some still water for the table. For food, I’ll have the vegetarian pasta, and he’ll have the Coquilles Saint-Jacques.”

Kakashi’s stare was intense, but he didn’t intervene. The waiter seemed taken aback that you were ordering for the table, but when Kakashi made no move to dispute what you’d said, he nodded, collected your menus, and left. You expected to be admonished in some way, but Kakashi remained silent.

Drinks arrived quickly. The waiter poured you both a glass of the wine and some water before he was gone again. Kakashi picked up the wine glasses and swirled it dramatically before taking a sip.

When he spoke, you had expected a question about how you found out his usual order, or perhaps a comment on the wine, but no, instead, he was his usual blunt self.

“I wonder what it is you’re hoping to gain from this.”

“That’s fine, you can wonder all you like.”

He sent you a measured look, “Has anyone ever told you you’re incredibly annoying?”

You grinned, “Nope!”

“I see. Well, I hope you’ll be blessed with some honest people in your life soon, I’ve found having them around to be extraordinarily helpful.”

You snorted mid sip of wine, which probably didn’t look attractive. Coughing, you looked up, expecting a judgemental look for behaving such a way in a fancy restaurant, but Kakashi just looked amused.

“Can I ask you a question?” You dabbed your lips with your napkin to soak up any stray wine drops. “What was the deal with that interview? It didn’t seem like you even wanted any applicants there. Was it just some weird form of employment hazing?”

“Simple. I didn’t want an assistant; I work better alone.”

“Then why hold the interview at all?”

“The board of directors were very… persistent. I knew they’d only shut up if I scared off every personal assistant in the city.”

You sent him a searching look, “But you hired me.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, “You had comedy value.”

Comedy value!? This dick.

“Liar,” you shot back. “You just think I’m hot, admit it.”

You got another one of his infuriating eye smiles. “If you say so.” God, you wanted to punch him, and maybe kiss him. Fuck.

“Whatever, just know that it’s your turn to pay for dinner next time, an I’m ordering the most expensive thing I can find.”

“If we go out for dinner too often, people will talk.”

“As if they aren’t already,” you said, referencing the sate of the office you’d left behind. You’d bet that they’d all stayed late to swap theories. “Yamato looked at us like a child who’d just walked in on his parents having sex.”

Kakashi seemed amused, “He would not appreciate that description.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true.”

As the conversation flowed, so did the wine. You were surprised by how much fun you were having. Hatake was a great conversationalist and the rapid-fire banter had you laughing out loud more than once. The food was just as good as you’d hoped as well.

To your utter delight, Hatake’s face turned pink as he drank. So cute. You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to feel the warm skin. Kakashi leaned into the hand in an almost nuzzle. You did not expect him to reciprocate. Shocked, you froze, hand still on his cheek.

Hatake seemed surprised too because he suddenly wrenched himself away from you. You pulled your hand back like it’d been burnt.

You’d bet anything that he was touch starved.

“Sorry, Hatake, I don’t know why I—”

“Kakashi,” he muttered, “you can call me Kakashi. Everyone does.”

“Kakashi,” you repeated, sending him a small smile. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. You kind of wanted to lick his face.

Kakashi’s phone buzzed in his pocket, shattering the moment. Disappointingly, he immediately slipped it out of his pocket and checked the message. You weren’t exactly surprised that he put checking his phone over your conversation, but it was still rude, whether you expected it or not.

Kakashi made an amused noise as he saw the expression on your face. “I only have audible notifications on for important people; I’m just checking to make sure nothing is wrong, there’s no need to look so offended.”

You sputtered, face heating up, “I’m not offended! I was just thinking it was rude to check your phone at dinner.”

“Ruder than ordering for someone else without their permission?”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, crossing your arms. “You liked it.”

Kakashi didn’t acknowledge you as he checked his messaged. You watched his eyes move from side to side as he read, before he eventually barked out a laugh and put the phone away.

“What’s funny?”

“One of my friends evidently found out that I was out to dinner. He has wished us luck on our youthful endeavours.”

You pulled a face at the weird phrasing. “He sounds… interesting.”

“You have no idea,” Kakashi said before emptying his wine glass.

“People seem so surprised about this. You don’t get out much then?”

Kakashi barked a laugh that sounded surprisingly bitter, and then didn’t elaborate. In true erotica love interest fashion, there was something brewing below the surface. Touch starved, orphaned, rich, but lonely, he was about as stereotypical as it got. You wondered if he’d also killed someone like Itachi? Hmm, probably not. This was a modern universe, and there were normally more severe consequences for things like that. It would have at least been mentioned on his wiki page.

By the time you had finished eating, the city outside the window had lit up in the darkness. The traffic had died down once rush hour ended, but the occasional car still passed by. You checked your phone and realised you’d been having dinner with Kakashi for almost two hours.

Your pride didn’t stop you from admitting that the time was flying because you were having fun.

Still, it was getting late, so you waved down a waiter and requested the bill. You were hoping that, seeing as you’d taken charge with ordering, that he would… yes! The waiter put the bill down in front of you instead of Kakashi.

You grinned at him smugly; you’d been assigned dom by wait staff.

He rolled his eyes at you, but you could see the smile on his face.

The bill wasn’t great, but it could have been worse. Clearly you hadn’t managed to keep your grimace supressed completely though because Kakashi noticed.

“Having second thoughts?” He was annoyingly observant.

You had never pulled out your card faster, grateful that you’d found your pin number written down in some old documents in your flat. Kakashi watched you pay, a strange glint in his eyes.

Did he assume you were going to dine and dash and make him pay or something? No… that wasn’t it. His ears had gone red too, and not from the alcohol.

He liked it, you realised gleefully. He liked that you ordered for him. He liked that you paid for him. He liked that you had decided on the place and time and dragged him along. It fit his reaction and it fit his character.

You were certain that most of his acquaintances either saw Kakashi as some kind of aloof, ‘didn’t believe in love’ character, or as a hard dom. And on the surface, sure, you could understand why they thought that, but how could anyone continue to think so once they spoke to him properly, when he was practically crying out for someone to take care of him?

Exhilaration ran through you. Maybe you were in this for more than just curiosity now.

“Come on,” you said, standing. “It’s getting late, and I still need to get my car—Shoot, I’m probably over the limit. I guess it’s a taxi for me then.”

“I can drop you home.” Kakashi stood as well, and you both walked to collect your coats. “It won’t be a problem.”

“Thanks,” you said relieved. You needed to at least try to budget after the amount you just spent on dinner.

Just as you were putting on your coats, Kakashi’s phone ran in his pocket. Remembering what he said about only having important people on vibrate, you remained silent as he took the call. You couldn’t quite make out the murmurs on the other side of the call, but Kakashi didn’t look pleased.

“Right… Okay… And there’s no alternate route? Of course… It can’t be helped, just meet me at the office.”

Did he have a last-minute work obligation perhaps?

“Yes, okay, I’ll see you soon.” He hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket. “Bad news, there’s been a minor accident on the road and my driver can’t get to us. We can get through on the pedestrian pathways just fine, so we’ll have to go back to the office on foot.”

“Oh, that’s not a big deal, it’s only about twenty minutes, right?” You didn’t understand why he seemed so serious about a minor hold up. Did he think you were going to be mad at him or something? Kakashi relaxed imperceptibly as it became clear that you didn’t mind.

It only occurred to you later, once you were well into the walk, that Kakashi was used to schmoozing a bunch of hoity toity rich people at La Liaison who probably would throw a fit at such a minor inconvenience. Those kinds of people were the worst.

“Why did you ask me to dinner tonight?” Kakashi asked. He spoke casually, but in a way that suggested the casualness was being used to disguise a more serious question.

You knew that he wouldn’t stop until he got an answer that satisfied him, and you didn’t want your relationship to be stained by doubts as to your intentions, so you decided to give him an answer as close to the truth as possible. If you started talking about erotic fiction, he’d probably call some kind of doctor.

“Because you seemed miserable, and I was curious about you. Figured this would kill two birds with one stone. Also, you piss me off, I won’t lie.”

“You took me to dinner because I piss you off?” Kakashi asked, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Is that some kind of fetish or is it a psychological defect?”

You squawked indignantly and tried to hit him on the arm. He dodged it, laughing.

“You’re one to talk! You hired me after I grabbed you by the tie in a job interview. That’s got to be a fetish and a psychological defect!” You shoved him on the shoulder, and he immediately shoved you back, and before you knew it, you were having a children’s battle on the street.

A random woman from across the street gave you a dirty look, you stuck your tongue out at her. Kakashi giggled, like, actually giggled, and that sent you into hysterics.

Maybe you’d had more to drink than you thought.

“You know,” you said, throwing your arm over his shoulder, “next time I take you out, we’re going to McDonald’s. It’s cheaper, and I think it’ll be funny to watch you sit there in your suit. Wait, have you ever been to a McDonald’s before?”

“I’m wealthy, I’m not an alien.” He rolled his eyes at you. He seemed to do that a lot. You couldn’t imagine him sitting in a McDonald’s. “I go every other week because my dogs like the carrot sticks from there.”

“You feed your dogs carrot sticks from McDonald’s?”

“Yep.”

“Have you ever considered, I don’t know, buying a pack of carrots?”

“No, because they like the ones from McDonald’s.”

You shook your head in disbelief. Rich people were crazy. “How many dogs do you have anyway?”

“Eight.”

“EIGHT?!”

…

Car parks at night, familiar or not, were unnerving in the way that liminal spaces always were. At least you were almost at the office doors, where Kakashi’s chauffeur was going to pick you both up. You were glad to finally get there, because as fun as the walk had been, the Autumn night was surprisingly chilly, and it was taking genuine effort to remember all of Kakashi’s dogs’ names. You were honestly surprised that the porn logic didn’t add any strange occurrences on the walk.

Naturally, the second that thought formed in your head, something happened.

As you passed round the side of a tall fence, your shirt got caught on a stray piece of metal. What would have been a minor inconvenience, barely a rip, in your old reality, was a complete pornographic disaster in this one, as every button on your shirt somehow ripped off, leaving your shirt hanging open.

The cold air hit your skin and goosebumps erupted all over your chest. Yelping, you dragged the pieces of shirt back together and held them firmly closed. Obviously, you weren’t fast enough to stop Kakashi from getting a look. The way he was pointedly looking away from you, rosy cheeked, said it all.

“Stupid fence,” you grumbled, giving it a dirty look. This wasn’t exactly the first time, or even the coldest time, that porn logic had decided to spontaneously strip someone, but it always managed to catch you off guard. Did the people who lived in erotica worlds always carry spare changes of clothes just in case?

“Are you hurt?” Kakashi asked. He sounded a little awkward, but ultimately sincere. It was nice that he’d decided to go for genuine concern over sarcasm, and you decided to do the same.

“I’m fine, it just caught me by surprise. At least it’s dark so no one caught an eye full.”

Kakashi coughed. Okay, no one apart from him.

“I’ll send a message to maintenance in the morning, but for now, I have a spare shirt in my office that you’re welcome to borrow for the evening.”

Huh, what do you know, people did keep spare clothes around. You were about to decline, citing the late hour and the fact that you were wearing a coat that you could do up, when you realised what was happening. You’d bet anything that something sexy would happen if you followed him up to his office.

“That would be great, thanks.” You weren’t going to let this slide from your grip when he was so pretty. And honestly, he was starting to seem like less of an asshole in general. He was fun, traumatised, and had eight dogs, if that wasn’t your type, you didn’t know what was.

…

Flickering the lights on in his office, Kakashi went into one of the cupboards to look for the shirt while you snooped at the ornaments he had on his shelves. Notably, there were no pictures. You picked up a weird ceramic circle statue and turned it over to see if it did anything cool.

You had passed a security guard on the way up to Kakashi’s office, that looked very intrigued as to why you two were together so late, and why your shirt was ripped open, so you resigned yourself to the rumour mill only getting worse by tomorrow.

“Are you nosy by nature or just interested in my office in particular?”

“Shut up.” You put back the ornament and turned to face him. He was holding the spare shirt in his hand. “You want to fuck me so bad, don’t deny it.”

You expected another eye roll.

“Oh, you have no idea,” he growled, watching you intensely. Oh, that wasn’t an eye roll.

One moment you were staring at him, unsure of what to say, and the next, you were crashing together, lips, tongue, and teeth, in a horny and aggressive kiss. You didn’t know which one of you moved first, you didn’t really care, you only knew that Kakashi was hot and infuriating, and you wanted to kiss him until he couldn’t make that smug face anymore.

Kissing Kakashi was giving you whiplash. He was different to Itachi in every way you could think of. He was confident, aggressive, he fought with you, clashed with you, and he seemed to determined to kiss you twice as hard as you kissed him.

It was obvious that Kakashi’s submission wouldn’t be freely given like Itachi’s, no, you would have to earn it. The challenge scratched at your instincts, and suddenly you wanted to prove to this omega that he could trust you. A good orgasm should lay the groundwork for that.

Both coats were quickly discarded as you kissed, and your ruined shirt fell off moments later.

You had been consciously avoiding his hair in fear of the amount of wax you figured he used to keep that hair style, but one weak moment, as Kakashi’s hips jolted forwards towards yours, you forgot, and ran you fingers through it.

To your surprise, your fingers glided through the soft strands easily. You were so shocked that you broke the kiss. You furrowed your eyebrows as you examined his hair.

“What are you doing?” he panted, confused.

“How the fuck does your hair stay up like that without any hairspray or wax?”

“What?” He sounded baffled. “This is just what my hair looks like. Does it matter?”

“I guess not.”

The kiss resumed, somehow more desperate and aggressive than before. Kakashi grabbed your waist so hard that you could feel the pin pricks from his nails digging into your skin. In return, you made use of your new found knowledge and grabbed a handful of Kakashi’s hair.

You pushed him backwards, never once breaking the rhythm of your kiss, until his upper thighs made contact with the front of his desk. His pot of pens fell as the desk jolted, scattering the expensive pens all over the ground. Neither of you paid it any mind.

When you finally pulled away for air, Kakashi wasted no time, immediately latching onto your neck with reckless abandon. There was something feral about him that was making you hot. He didn’t hold back. You could tell that he was experienced, and he was using every drop of that experience to his advantage.

While he was distracted, you worked on undoing his buttons. It was harder than it looked to remain focused while Kakashi was doing his best impression of a vampire on your neck.

“You have way too many fucking buttons on this shirt.”

“It’s a normal number of buttons,” he murmured against your skin.

“There is literally nothing normal about you.”

“And you say I’m the rude one.”

“That’s because you fucking are.”

Eventually, you managed to undo the last button. Your noise of triumph morphed into a moan as Kakashi nipped around your collar bone. You used his hair to tug him back before loosening his tie and pushing the shirt off his shoulders.

The way his torso looked, bare but with a loose tie hanging over it, unlocked a kink you didn’t know you had. In fact, everything about him was hot. As you dragged the shirt down his arms, you could feel his muscles flexing. Kakashi was strong and broad, and he wore it so well.

You didn’t bother pulling the shirt off all the way, instead letting it bunch at his wrists, acting as a semi-restraint. He tugged at it experimentally, and when he found it restricting his movement, his pupils dilated.

You cooed as you ran your hands all over his naked torse. That’s right, he was a forceful person, certainly, but any shows of dominance were likely performative or learnt behaviours, because this man was a giant sub at heart.

You grabbed his bottom lip between your teeth and pulled it lightly. Kakashi growled at you, but you knew what he was doing; he wasn’t telling you to stop, he was challenging you. You growled back, stronger, louder, and just as you thought, his growling stopped, and his scent took on a delicious hint of submission.

“God, you really are annoyingly hot,” you growled, biting along his jaw. “Emphasis on annoying.”

“Takes one to know one,” he fired back, squeezing your waits.

“Mutual handjob?” you whispered against his skin, already undoing his trousers, before doing the same with yours.

“That the first intelligent thing you’ve said all night.”

“Fuck you.”

You grabbed Kakashi’s muscular thighs and lifted him slightly until he was perched on his desk. A stack of papers tipped over and fluttered to the ground, but that wasn’t a problem for present you, so you happily ignored the chaos in favour of the panting omega in front of you.

You took your dick out from your pants and did the same for Kakashi. They bumped up against each other, searingly hot and unflinchingly hard. You let out a whistle of appreciation at his cock. It was big, bigger than most alphas you’d met, and certainly bigger than any omega’s cock you’d ever seen. In fact, just eyeballing it, he was roughly the same size as you. His shaft was as pale as the rest of him, but the head was an angry red. It was girthy too, and it felt hot and solid in your palm.

Purposefully, you thrust your hips forward, guiding your cock against his with both of your hands. Kakashi moaned, thrusting up to meet you. He could only watch, his hands restrained as they were.

You kept your hands around the dicks, keeping them aligned as you both started to rut against each other. Beads of pre cum quickly made their appearance, which only made everything else feel that much better.

There was something deeply satisfying about what you were doing, especially because you were both still half-dressed. It made it feel desperate, like you couldn’t wait long enough to get your clothes off, too desperately attracted to each other, and had instead chosen to rub off on each other like horny teenagers.

You made out messily while you grinded against each other. Maintaining a consistent pace was a little difficult, especially as things got wetter and wetter, but you managed. There was something sexy about the chaos. The increased sensitivity from being in the erotica world didn’t hurt either.

Your moans and groans increased in frequency as you got closer. If felt like every nerve ending you had was on fire, and Kakashi looked much like you felt, covered in a thin sheen of sweat that was obvious under the hard corporate lighting.

Technically, with it being so bright inside and so dark outside, anyone who happened to glance up would have got a glimpse of you, but you were both too far gone to care.

“You love having someone take control of you, don’t you Kakashi,” you moaned, pressing your lips against his. “You’re tired of always being in control, aren’t you? The big CEO, everyone’s relying on you, but who do you get to rely on? Who looks after you? You want someone to do that, don’t you? You’re a walking, talking CEO stereotype.”

“Who says I’m going to give control to you?” he panted, licking his lips. “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?”

“Hmm, nope, I think I’m right on track,” you teased. Already picking up on his proclivity for biting, you gave a bite in return, just shy of where a mating mark might theoretically go. Kakashi gasped, his hands straining at the shirt that restrained them. “I’ll get you to submit to me properly, one day.”

“We’ll see.”

The alcohol and the increased sensitivity were mixing together to make this tryst shorter than expected, but Kakashi seemed to be in the same boat, so you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The banter ceased as the final stretch towards your orgasms started.

As your ending approached, you bent down and sealed your lips with Kakashi’s once more. Suddenly, everything crested, and pleasure flowed over you in waves. Your thrusts got sloppy, but neither of you cared. Kakashi came with a guttural moan. His stomach muscles flexing in a hypnotic dance.

The extra cum afforded by the porn logic soaked both your dicks and your hands, staining both pairs of trousers too. It dripped onto the carpet, and if the security guard didn’t spread a rumour about you and Kakashi hooking up, one of the cleaners probably would.

Some of Kakashi’s cum had even landed on the spare shirt, so you now had a choice between a torn shirt, or one covered in cum to match your stained trousers. Great. Why did horny you always make such bad decisions?

You and Kakashi remained leaning against each other for a while, just catching your breaths and marvelling at how fast your relationship had move. You wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told you during your interview that you’d end up grinding on that asshole’s desk a few days later.

‘I would have believed it.’

‘Thanks, James.’

Kakashi opened his mouth to speak, but the door to his office suddenly opened, cutting him off. You both stiffened, snapping up to face the intruder like a pair of deer in headlights.

There, standing in the doorway with the expression of a man who was entirely done with life, was Kakashi’s chauffeur. Instead of an apology of any kind, the man just sighed.

“The car is downstairs when you are ready. Please try and clean up before getting in, the leather won’t forget these kinds of smells easily.” With that, he left, shutting the door firmly behind him.

You and Kakashi looked at each other, then to the door, and then to each other, before you both burst out laughing.

What a way to end the night.

Next Chapter

#the quest for a second life #kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi x reader #alpha!reader #alpha reader #omega!kakashi #omega kakashi #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha x omega #gn reader #sub kakashi #sub!kakashi #dom!reader #dom reader #n-sfw #reader insert

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