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no6secretsanta · 4 months

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Dangerous Thoughts

To: @secretagentfan

From: @glorifiedscapegoat

Hi, SAF! Happy Holidays and a New Year! I’m so sorry for the delay on this! I hope you like it! You mentioned that you liked AUs, so I went for a Shadowhunters AU because I felt like it suited Shion and Nezumi a lot. Especially since there’s some mutual pining here and some humor. I really hope that you like it!

- - -

“Poseidon?” Safu said into her cell phone, her brow crinkling. “As in the Greek god? That’s what you’re calling this thing? Why don’t you just call it a kraken?”

Shion was only half listening to Safu’s voice. He looked around. The sun had just gone down. He’d always loved to go to the pier, ever since he was a little boy and his mother had taken him there to play arcade games and ride the Ferris wheel. He loved the fair food—burgers and fries, cotton candy and popcorn—and the sparkler parties the college students held on the beach.

The mundanes had poured thousands of dollars into renovating the pier into a tourist attraction. The miniature amusement park was filled with new rides, street vendors, and ticket stands where sleepy-eyed girls passed out bright pink strands to children.

The boards beneath Shion’s feet were still warped and weathered from years of sun and sea salt. The air smelled of ocean water and the sticky scents of candy apples. The merry-go-round in the distance poured carnival music over the assembled crowd. There were ring-toss games where players could win giant stuffed animals, and beneath the railings were dark places where sinister creatures liked to gather.

That was the thing Shion wished he could change about being a Shadowhunter. Shion could see the beauty of the LED lights and mundane-made structures, but he also noticed the things the mundanes didn’t. There were dark sprites gathered underneath one of the abandoned picnic tables, gnawing on scraps of garbage and dropped fries. Over the railing, a mermaid twisted and danced beneath the white-capped waves. She had what appeared to be a glow-stick clutched in her fist.

“Are you all right?” Safu asked. She slipped her phone into the pocket of her jacket. The wind tossed her dark hair, gathered into a high ponytail and spilling to her shoulders. Safu, Nezumi, and Inukashi had dressed in gear, but Shion was wearing street clothes. Safu hadn’t intended for him to tag along.

“I’m fine,” Shion replied. “Where are Nezumi and Inukashi?”

“Over there,” Safu said, pointing.

Shion followed her gaze to the brightly lit stand where mundanes had gathered to compete against each other and win prizes. The goal was to toss a plastic ring and have it land around the neck of one of the red glass bottles lined in the center of a plastic pool. Shion didn’t understand what was so difficult about it—he was uncoordinated by Shadowhunter standards, and even he could throw rings and have them land perfectly.

Nezumi held three plastic rings in his hand. Inukashi, dressed in all black with their hair pulled back, stood beside him, eating blue cotton candy out of a plastic bag. There was a teenager standing next to them—a mundane from the look of the pristine white skin up his bare arms, which were currently folded across his chest.

Nezumi threw the rings, all three into the air at once. Each of them—red and green and blue—spiraled into the air and came down around the neck of the same bottle.

“Shit!” shouted the mundane teenager.

“Told you,” replied Inukashi, their mouth full of bright blue cotton candy.

Safu sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

A mixture of cheers erupted from the crowd of mundanes at the ring toss. Nezumi snatched his prize, something in a plastic bag, from the game master and said to the teenager, “Better luck next time.”

He headed towards Safu and Shion with Inukashi padding along beside him. His hair was pulled back, too, several strands hanging loose over his ears and falling to his collarbone. Nezumi had faerie blood in his family, like Shion, and it showed in his features: his vibrant silver eyes, his angular cheekbones, and the porcelain color of his skin.

Dangerous thoughts, Shion told himself. There were things he thought about his parabatai that he could never give voice to—no matter how much it was killing him inside.

“So,” said Shion, attempting to distract himself, “Rikiga said the demon is a kraken?”

“Supposedly,” Safu replied. Nezumi and Inukashi had come into earshot. Inukashi was muttering something about a pretty girl with pink hair who kept squealing whenever her boyfriend told her a joke. “It snatches children from the side of the pier. Someone spotted it lurking next to the boardwalk and thought it was algae–all right, why does Nezumi have a goldfish?”

Nezumi held the plastic bag up into the air. Inside it, a small orange fish swam around in a lazy circle. “I put a teenager in his place and won a fish for my troubles.”

Shion shook his head. Nezumi had spent most of his life training with his parents—two brutal Shadowhunters who had, ultimately, been torn apart by demons. Nezumi’s misfortunes had made him bitter and sarcastic to most, and downright snarky to those he liked spending time with.

Nezumi had adjusted well to mingling among mundanes (partially because of his part-time job at the theater, where most of the cast were Downworlders who had once been normal mundanes) but there were still times when he seemed to forget (or simply not care) that he wasn’t supposed to pick fights in public.

Nezumi stepped around Safu and placed the plastic bag in Shion’s hands. “My bright one,” Nezumi announced in a rather theatrical voice. “I have won a goldfish and offer it to you as tribute.”

He bent forward and kissed Shion on the cheek. Nezumi smelled the same as he always did: jasmine and snowfall, compressed together into something so unique to Nezumi that Shion had never found it anywhere else.

Nezumi had called him “my bright one” long before they became parabatai. Shion looked like he belonged to the Fair Folk, Nezumi had said—with his winter-white hair, pale skin, and bright red eyes. Shion wasn’t surprised. He had a bit of Fae blood in his veins, on his father’s side. “My bright one” was supposedly a sign of high respect for a faerie prince or princess, and so that, on top of “Your Highness” and “Your Majesty”, was a nickname Nezumi assigned to him.

It was a sweet kiss, gentle and soft against his cheek. Though he knew Nezumi was merely joking, Shion blushed. He glanced over at Inukashi, who was watching with wide eyes. Safu looked pale and shocked. It was only a brief glance before she schooled her expression back into impassivity.

Shion took the goldfish. “Thank you, Nezumi. She’s beautiful. Have you named her yet?”

“I thought His Majesty would be upset if I were to impose like that,” replied Nezumi with an indifferent shrug. He took one look at the unimpressed expression on Shion’s face and snorted. “Don’t give me that look. No, I didn’t name her. Do you even name fish?”

“I named mine Bubbles,” answered Inukashi. They were leaning against the pole of a booth selling hot dogs and Coca Cola in massive red and white cups. “A kid in the Academy told me it was cruel to keep fish hostage and dumped it into the ocean. Didn’t have the heart to tell the brat that goldfish can’t survive in saltwater.”

“That’s horrible,” Safu said. Her cheeks were flushed from the mid-evening chill.

Nezumi put a hand over his heart—where his parabatai rune was located, peeking out of the hem of his shirt—and bowed his head solemnly. “A moment of silence, then, for our fallen comrade.”

Shion shook his head with a laugh. He eyed the goldfish in the bag and tried to think of a suitable name.

The goldfish had beautiful orange scales; upon further inspection, Shion saw that there were flecks of pale yellow and white along her sides and around her fins. She seemed to glow from within. Shion thought there might be a drop or two of fae blood in her veins and wondered if that would affect her ability to go into the Institute.

“I like Lady Macbeth,” Shion decided.

“Lady Macbeth dies, you know,” said Nezumi. “That does not bode well for that fish.”

“I can take care of a fish. I’m not forgetful like you.” Shion patted the side of the plastic bag and gave Lady Macbeth a small grin. “Don’t worry, Lady. You’re safe with me.”

“The hell do you mean I’m forgetful?” Nezumi demanded.

Shion opened his mouth to answer—and then he felt a shiver of cold pass over his skin. He knew. Demons gave off a distinctive aura, and though Shion had never been in combat with one, he’d been around them enough. Shadowhunters were instinctively capable of knowing when a demon was present.

All humor had gone from Nezumi’s face. Within seconds, each Shadowhunter had a weapon in hand: Nezumi had his knife, Safu had a seraph blade, and Inukashi clutched a needle-thin dagger. Shion clutched his stele in his fist, the crystal tip pointed outward.

“Where’s it heading?” asked Inukashi.

“Toward the end of the pier,” replied Safu. She jerked her head toward the assemblage of mundanes gathered near the railing overlooking the dark ocean water. “That’s where the most potential victims are located.”

“I’ll cut it off,” said Nezumi. He’d only brought his knife—but Shion knew how quick he was. Nezumi could move as fast as an elf, and though Rikiga required him to bring seraph blades and a sword, Nezumi could often make do with just his dagger and his speed. “Head to the beach and cut it off if it changes course and goes to the water.”

Inukashi and Safu were gone as soon as the command left Nezumi’s lips. Shion took off running toward the end of the pier, his sneakers thumping against the wooden boards. The wind threatened to knock Lady Macbeth from his hands, but he clutched her close and kept her from bouncing.

The stele felt warm and sturdy in his hand. Shion had no weapons, but he felt invincible. The dangerous thoughts from before had been cast aside. Everything in his mind focused on the task at hand: stopping the demon.

Shion heard the footsteps behind him. He didn’t have to look to know it was Nezumi. He’d been given no order, but Shion and Nezumi were parabatai—they battled together, traveled together. Nezumi’s footsteps had been at his side from the moment Shion had begun training.

“Over there,” Nezumi said, but Shion could already see it. A dark shape scurried along the railing, massive and thick, invisible to the eyes of unknowing mundanes. The Ferris wheel was coming back around for another stop. It had begun to slow.

Shion dove toward the Ferris wheel line and began to shove his way through it. He and Nezumi had not applied any glamour runes, so several people swore at them and shouted as Nezumi and Shion stomped on toes and elbowed ribs and knocked people to the ground without an apology. Shion had felt bad about it the first time he’d tagged along for patrol—and maybe he would after the demon was dead.

The carriage was coming to a halt. A young couple—a tall girl in a green school uniform and her petite girlfriend with her hair done up in blond pigtails—was about to climb in. Shion saw the demon beginning to head for the Ferris wheel, going for the metal rails.

“Sorry,” Shion shouted, shoving past the couple and nearly knocking them to the ground. The carriage was small, a colorful square with a pole in the center and two benches. There wasn’t much room to stand.

Over his shoulder, Shion heard the tall girl ask her girlfriend if she was alright. People in the line were shouting at the ticket master, but Shion had already collapsed against the side of the carriage as it had begun to lift back into the air.

The carriage rocked beneath his feet as Nezumi clambered in after him. He slammed the safety gate shut just as the thing hefted into the air. Nezumi leaned out over the railing, clutching his knife in his hand. “Where did it go?” he demanded, craning his head up.

Shion squinted through the lights. He’d seen it. He was positive of that. From this height, the Ferris wheel was a brilliant pillar of light and iron painted bars. The two carriages beneath Shion and Nezumi still had their previous passengers in them. The line below must have still been in a frenzy from Shion and Nezumi’s sudden arrival.

Nezumi set his boot on the bench, and Shion reached out to grab his arm. “Wait.” He set Lady Macbeth’s plastic bag on the ground of the carriage, safely tucked beneath the bench. “Runes,” Shion said, holding out his stele.

The carriage was still rising into the air. Shion could see the beach below, the dark water spilling across the sand. He saw the lights of Kronos in the distance. The mountains and the cliff edges were pinpricks of white towards the direction of the Institute.

The stars were dim and barely visible in the brilliant light of the amusement park. Nezumi glanced over at Shion, his expression blank. He stepped down from the bench and shrugged off his jacket. It slid down his back and landed in a heap, revealing his bare arms and collarbone.

Shion’s mouth went dry. This was the closest he and Nezumi had been to each other without any of the others near for almost a week, and Shion’s heart hammered a mile a minute. Nezumi picked up his jacket and held it out to Shion without a word. Shion took it, knowing the ritual well by now. Nezumi gave him his jacket to wear to keep him safe, Shion marked him with runes, and then Nezumi went off and slaughtered the demon.

The lights of the wheel had turned blue and yellow as Shion slipped Nezumi’s jacket on. The lights cast shadows across Nezumi’s face and arms. His hair hung down around his shoulders, most of it pulled back. Shion could tell by looking at him that he was a warrior: the bones beneath his skin and muscles were hard as iron.

Nezumi was beautiful. He had always been beautiful, even when he was bleeding in the foyer of the Institute. It was a memory Shion didn’t like to relive because it reminded him that there had been a time when he and Nezumi had not been parabatai. Nezumi’s silver eyes flashed in the changing lights of the Ferris wheel. He was beautiful, and Shion stood with his hand trembling around the hilt of his stele and his body aching.

He wanted to touch Nezumi. He knew he couldn’t. He and Nezumi had taken the parabatai oath—had stood in front of the Silent Brothers and pledged to fight together, to live together, to be together, but never to fall in love.

Nezumi stepped forward as the Ferris wheel brought the carriage around to the top. The collar of Nezumi’s gear was low, displaying the pale flesh of his collarbone. The top of his parabatai rune peeked out above his heart. The skin along his throat and shoulders was scored over and over with faded silvery lines that were only visible in brief flashes, the remnants of old runes.

Shion had to step closer to Mark him. He pressed the stele to Nezumi’s forearm. The runes bloomed beneath the tip of the stele: agility, stealth, night vision, glamour so the humans wouldn’t see him. Shion placed a Sure-Strike in between Nezumi’s collarbone, close to his heart where it would be the most effective. Nezumi was slightly taller than him, but enough to make a difference; Shion’s head reached to his chin, and he stared directly at Nezumi’s throat.

“Give me your stele,” Nezumi said abruptly.

Shion jerked his head up. He had just finished the runes. Nezumi reached out to take the stele from his hand, and Shion surrendered it without resistance. Nezumi stared at him, and Shion couldn’t read the expression on his face. Nezumi’s eyes had turned the color of storm clouds in the darkness of the carriage. The lights from the Ferris wheel had turned red and yellow, spreading out around them and spilling down to the pitch-black waters below.

Nezumi took Shion’s arm, the one with the parabatai rune on his wrist. He shoved the sleeve of his jacket and Shion’s button-down up. There was tenderness behind his touch, a gentleness that Shion had never associated with Nezumi before.

Nezumi pressed the tip of the stele to Shion’s wrist and pulled it in swift spirals around his skin. Bolts of warmth shot through Shion’s stomach and down to his toes. He shifted his weight to his other leg.

A single Mark appeared on the pale skin above his parabatai rune. Shion recognized it as the looping patterns of a protection charm. Nezumi’s head was bent forward, his gaze fixed on the task of finishing the rune. Shion fought to keep from shivering. His body felt warm.

Once the rune was finished, Nezumi handed the stele back to Shion. Nezumi’s pale arms were painted in runes of stealth and power, crafted in Shion’s elegant penmanship. Shion gazed down at the scratching on his arm. Nezumi had harsh handwriting, spiked at the corners as if he had carved it with the tip of his knife.

Nezumi gripped the hilt of his knife and stepped forward. He took Shion’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced their eyes to lock.

Shion’s heart clenched. “Nezumi?” he whispered. The lights of the Ferris wheel had turned to a deep, rich blue that almost threw Nezumi completely into darkness.

Something rose up on the other side of the carriage—a wriggling mass of frigid tentacles the color of blood. Not the fresh blood that came from a cut from a blade. The blood that welled beneath an infected wound that killed in slow, feverish tendrils. One tentacle had clung to the spoke of the Ferris wheel. Its mouth was open wide, its teeth sharp as needles.

“Nezumi!” Shion shouted, and Nezumi flung himself from the carriage. He caught himself on one of the many bars interlocking the spokes and carriages together.

Shion scrambled to the side and leaned over. Nezumi was holding onto the spoke with one hand. With the other, he hacked at the tentacle keeping the creature locked to the wheel.

The edge of the knife caught the creature’s tentacle as it reeled back. It screeched. Nezumi turned his face away as a spray of black ichor splashed against his neck and bare arms.

Shion clutched the stele in his fist as Nezumi pulled himself up on the spoke. For half a second, Shion considered throwing the stele like a projectile—but the creature, shockingly fast, was already scrambling down along the tangle of iron bars. And a Shadowhunter without their stele is as good as dead.

Shion ran to the other side of the carriage as the wheel began to descend. LED lights exploded around him in a sea of blues and reds and yellows. Nezumi clambered down the wheel spokes after it. Shion could see ichor spilled on the iron. He knew the creature was hurt.

The view from the Ferris wheel was beautiful. The pitch-black sea and the silver sand spread out beneath him in all directions. Shion felt like he was dangling off the edge of the world.

He could taste blood and salt in his mouth, and he knew it had come from Nezumi. Shion’s parabatai was jumping down the length of the wheel, using the spokes and wires and iron bars to steady himself. The creature had gone to the center of the wheel. Its crimson tentacles wrapped around the bolts and jerked. Shion leaned over to see what it was doing—and then he went cold.

The demon was attempting to wrench the bolt out from the Ferris wheel. If it succeeded, the whole thing would roll off the pier. Shion couldn’t pretend that any of the passengers on the wheel would survive, or that any of the groups of mundanes lingering below would, either.

The Ferris wheel rocked. Shion stumbled and caught the edge of the carriage against his stomach. He winced in pain. The creature had its tentacles around the wheel’s heart and was twisting it. Nezumi, spotting the demon and realizing what it intended to do, redoubled his speed and sprinted down the iron bars. He was too far above the wheel’s middle.

The carriage had begun to swing back down and around. Shion ducked when he passed the ticket booth. He couldn’t see the tall girl and her blond girlfriend, but the chaos in the line seemed to have died down. Once he was out of the loading dock, Shion raced to the edge and craned his head upward.

Nezumi stretched his body out along the iron bar. He wrapped his left arm around one of them, and then he looked down at Shion and nodded.

Shion knew, instinctively, without having to wonder, what Nezumi intended for him to do. He pushed the sleeve of his borrowed jacket up—pretending not to notice that it smelled like his parabatai—and etched a quick glamour spell on the inside of his wrist. Once the glamour rune had finished, once Shion knew he would be hidden from the eyes and ears of normal mundanes, he leaned over the edge of the carriage and screamed.

It was different from the squeals of delight from the Ferris wheel passengers. It was different from the laughter on the pier and the squeals of children up way past their bedtime. Shion poured all of his fear and concern for his parabatai into the sound. He released all the frustration he’d been feeling, all the late nights lying awake in his bed, all the dangerous thoughts he couldn’t seem to quell.

The demon stopped yanking on the wheel and raised its head towards the sound. Shion saw its three eyes, oval and glossed as pearls. Nezumi released his grip on the spoke and plummeted down toward the demon. As he fell, he angled his knife, his hair whipping back from around his face. He was a falling star, and the demon’s white eyes seemed to widen as it pieced together that Shion’s scream had been a distraction.

It was too late. Nezumi whipped the knife forward, driving it down into the top of the demon’s skull. The blade punctured its flesh with a slick, wet sound. The creature’s tentacles flailed in a dying spasm.

Nezumi wrenched his knife free and stepped off onto one of the spokes. The demon’s body jerked back and rolled along one of the downward spokes of the wheel. It reached the end and tumbled off. Shion thought he heard a splash in the ocean, but there was no time to wonder. He looked at Nezumi, who was scrambling down the side of the wheel and heading for the ground.

The carriage was coming back around towards the loading dock. Shion grabbed Lady Macbeth from her spot under the bench and hopped out of the carriage as it approached the ground. He was invisible from the glamour rune, so an empty carriage earned a few strange looks, but Shion was making his way through the crowd towards Nezumi long before anyone could wonder what it could mean. Mundanes had an interesting way of dismissing things they perceived as strange simply because it was easier to handle than the truth.

Nezumi was standing a few feet away under one of the pier LED lamps. He was breathing hard. He spotted Shion, and the tension in his body seemed to dissipate. Behind them, the Ferris wheel spun, lowering passengers towards the beach and picking up new ones for the ride. Shion could see the crowd of mundanes, the shimmer of water along the shoreline, and two dark figures standing on the beach that could have been Safu and Inukashi.

“Nice work, Your Majesty,” said Nezumi. He wiped ichor off his bare arms. It left black streaks on his pale skin, as if he’d been messing around with an inkwell and the whole thing had spilled on him.

“You, too,” Shion murmured, lowering his head so Nezumi couldn’t see him blushing. He clenched the plastic bag in his fist. Inside, Lady Macbeth swallowed bubbles and swam without a care in the world.

⁂

Safu and Inukashi were waiting for them beneath the pier. Inukashi had taken off their boots and waded partway into the waves. Safu was wiping ichor off her Hightower hunting knife. At her feet was a patch of drying sand the color of charcoal.

“Was the demon dead when it hit the water?” Shion called. The glamour rune on his right wrist burned in the crisp mid-evening air. “Please tell me it was. Even if it isn’t true.”

“Close enough,” replied Safu. “It rolled into the shallows. Inukashi caught it trying to crawl away, but they cut its tentacle off and it went down.” She nudged at the patch of ichor smeared into the sand. “The tentacle dove into the ocean, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”

Nezumi had wandered away from Shion and down to the edge of the water. Inukashi splashed out of the shallows and jammed their wet feet into their boots. Both he and Safu were fully glamoured, and Shion saw a group of mundane teenagers completely overlook them as they walked across the beach. He wondered what the mundanes would think if they could see them now—a ragtag bunch of Shadowhunters splattered in black blood, with knives and steles rather than wallets and iPhones.

Inukashi made some snide comment in response to something Nezumi had said. Nezumi responded with a sound like a sardonic laugh and brushed some of the black ichor from his arms. All four of them were shivering. The night air smelled like dirt and seawater and popcorn. Shion could hear the carnival at his back. The city in the distance glistened like the carapaces of a thousand beetles, all silver and gold and blinking red. The ocean waves lapped against the sand in the distance. The moon had crept behind a small patch of clouds.

“We’d better get back,” Safu said, pulling her soaking wet jacket around her shoulders. “Before Rikiga sends a search party.”

“Where’d you park the Jeep?” asked Nezumi. He scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Some of the ichor had splattered across his face, leaving a trail of black tar over his lips. “I’ll drive.”

“Doesn’t that burn?” asked Inukashi. They were soaked to the bone, their dark hair clinging to their neck. It had come loose from its ponytail sometime during the battle, and they looked every bit as wild as Shion thought they had the day they arrived at the Institute.

“Not really,” replied Nezumi with an indifferent shrug. “Doesn’t taste that great, though.” He spat a glob of black onto the beach.

“It’s parked back there,” said Safu, gesturing to the carnival parking lot. At Nezumi’s disgusted look, she answered, “Well, what was I supposed to do? I can’t put a glamour rune on it, and I don’t want it to get towed. Rikiga still hasn’t forgiven you for the last time that happened, by the way.”

Nezumi examined the edge of his blade, as if he were looking for nicks. “He’ll get over it. Come on. Let’s get the Jeep and go back to the Institute. I need a shower.”

Shion examined the surface of the water. The silver waves lapped against the sand, a gentle shushing sound drowning out the cheerful wails of the mundanes in the carnival.

“Are we sure there aren’t any others out in the shallows?” he asked. “We should check.”

Nezumi, who had been wringing ichor and saltwater out of his hair, shot Shion an incredulous look. “Can you breathe underwater? ‘Cause I sure as hell can’t. Besides, those things are solitary hunters. Extremely territorial. That was the only one. Trust me.”

Shion didn’t even think to argue. His parabatai was better versed in dealing with demons in the field. And if Nezumi assured him that the creature they’d fought was the only one, then Shion would believe him.

Inukashi shot Nezumi a disgusted look as he spat another glob of ichor onto the sand. “Could you stop doing that?” They shuddered. “Disgusting.”

Nezumi flashed them a wide grin, his teeth stained black. Shion smiled over at him, as much as he could. He felt unnaturally calm around Nezumi, but he assumed it was due to the fact that they were parabatai. He was unbearably grateful that Nezumi had asked him to participate in the Trial of Fire. Five years ago, Shion never could have dreamed that the thin, rain-soaked boy in the foyer of the Institute would want anything to do with him.

Nezumi’s silver eyes flickered over in Shion’s direction, and Shion felt a surge of warmth shiver through his body. There was something about Nezumi, something indefinitely strange, a hint of wildness that reminded Shion of a typhoon. He could see it in the glorious silver coloration of Nezumi’s irises, the beautiful color he had never seen on any other creature.

Shion watched as Nezumi wandered over toward him. Reaching Shion’s side, Nezumi lifted his hand and brushed a lock of Shion’s white hair out of his face. Shion leaned into the touch, without thinking, and then forced himself to draw away.

Dangerous thoughts, he reminded himself, gazing into his parabatai’s sharp eyes and hearing the sound of Safu and Inukashi’s voices fading out. Completely dangerous.

#submission #no. 6 #no. 6 secret santa #nezushi #nezumi #shion #inukashi #safu #secretagentfan #glorifiedscapegoat

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moonlit-imagines · 2 years

Text

Headcanons for being Adrian Chase’s partner in crime

Adrian Chase x reader

warnings: death, blood, injury, murder, mention of sex offenders, more murder and death, i think that’s it. oh and guns and knives

a/n: ILY ROWAN U REQUEST JUST FINE I PROMISE!!!!

prompt: @amirahiddleston: “okokokok i would like to request that you write an adrian chase/vigilante (peacemaker tv) headcanon about being his sort of partner in crime? like y/n and him are both vigilante types! thank you & i hope i did this right 😭”

absolute shitshow

obviously the only way you two are willingly working together is if you’re both a little crazy and a little insufferable (but never to each other)

“turn that shit up RIGHT now” -adrian while driving

“SO I’VE GOT MY HANDS UP THEYRE PLAYING MY SONG THE BUTTERFLIES FLY AWAY. NODDING MY HEAD LIKE YEAH. MOVING MY HIPS LIKE YEAH—” -both of you with the windows down

jealous of each other’s weapons

“you didn’t get me one?” -adrian, with a pouty face you could sense through his mask

“dont even think about it, vig. i will shoot you” -you

“not if i shoot you first!” -adrian

drive-thru shenanigans

mcdonalds workers hate you

“just pick something y/v/n! you get the same thing every time, why are you acting like you’re gonna get something different?” -adrian

“shut up, i’m thinking. what are you gonna get?” -you

“the same thing i always get. big mac, no toppings, ketchup and pickles on the side” -adrian

“no fries?” -you

“of course i’m getting fries! and a sprite! like i always do!” -adrian

“hmmm, okay. i think i’ll just get my usual” -you

*20 honking cars behind you*

“fucking finally…can i take your order?” -drive thru employee

only ever seeing his below-the-nose area of his face

“hah! you have a zit on your chin” -you

“you should see my back” -adrian with a mouthful of food

stakeouts

STAKEOUTS

*humming harmonies together*

“that was beautiful, thank you” -adrian

“look at that asshole jaywalking, should we beat him—” *gunshot* “vigilante!” -you

“well he shouldn’t have been breaking the law!” -adrian

he always asks to borrow your weapons

like way too much

like he wants to steal them

“vig, have you seen my rifle?” -you

“what rifle?” -adrian

“the R8” -you

“i have not” -adrian

“right…so if i checked the secret compartment of your trunk i wouldn’t find it?” -you

“you would not” -adrian

“i’ll be right back” -you

“wait no—” -adrian

constantly saving each other’s asses

which ended in stitches or gauze most if the time

“hold the fuck still, dude” -you, trying to cover a wound on his side

“i’m trying! remember that you still need stitches” -adrian

him gossiping about peacemaker

like, a LOT

“dude, i wish peacemaker were here. i bet you’d love him, he’s great” “i miss peacemaker” “peacemaker has the BEST aim” “i bet if peacemaker were here—” -adrian

“do you have a crush on peacemaker?” -you

“psh! what? no!” -adrian

him getting you leftovers from the restaurant he works at

“you gotta carb up, y/v/n. that’s very important in this line of work” -adrian

high fives, fist bumps, hip bumps, chest bumps

“oh, ow, fuck” -adrian

“i bumped your stab wound?” -you

“you bumped my stab wound” -adrian

sometimes getting curious and wanting to see his face

“pleeeease? why cant you show me who you are?” -you

sword fighting

“please don’t cut off my arm” -you

“why would i cut off your arm?” -adrian

“well, maybe not on purpose” -you

“i pinky promise i won’t cut your arm off. now that we’re on the subject, will you please not cut my arms off?” -adrian

“no promises” -you

“no, y/v/n, you have to promise. just say it” -adrian

him occasionally letting you drive his car

“if you speed i will shoot you” -adrian

“then we’ll crash” -you

“i have a good chance of survival” -adrian

keeping tabs on “bad guys”

looking up sex offenders in the area and just straight up murdering them

like you make a game of it

“three points to gryffindor!” -you

“gryffindor? let’s be realistic here” -adrian

“harry potter isn’t realistic” -you

“peacemaker knows all sorts of superheroes and you’re telling me you don’t think harry potter is realistic?” -adrian

“what is your obsession with peacemaker, man?” -you

“he’s a good role model!” -adrian

“isn’t he like, racist or something?” -you

“peacemaker is not racist! how dare you?” -adrian

peacemaker is a sensitive subject

you guys are definitely a pretty efficient team

even if you are just two dumbasses in masks

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @randomfandomimagine // @summersimmerus // @bad4amficideas // @xoxobabydolls // @evilcr0ne // @amirahiddleston // @sydknee624 // @thedarkqueenofavalon //

#adrian chase imagine #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase #vigilante #vigilante x reader #vigilante imagine #peacemaker show imagine #peacemaker show x reader #peacemaker show #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dceu x reader #dceu imagine #dceu

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mystic-sky · 3 years

Text

You stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. You could barely hear yourself think. You’d been attempting to sober up for some odd 20 minutes, whilst the pumping music faded through the tiled walls.

You’d drank plenty of water, and finally felt everything coming back to you. Once the writing on the walls started making sense again, you exited the room. The music finally filtered clear and you walked outside.

You ran a hand through your hair, seeing your friends dancing in the distance. You were having a lot of fun actually. The only thing that slowed you down was the urge to pee a while ago. And once you felt yourself stumbling towards the bathroom, you realized it was time to chill for a bit.

You walked through a sea of people towards the bar on the terrace again, feeling like a new woman. You ordered a non-alcoholic drink with a sprite substitute for your base, sitting on the stool closest to the end against the wall.

You threw your head back, taking the deepest breath and looking at the sky.

“Whew...” You sighed. “I almost got shit faced again.”

You heard a laugh from two stools away. You snapped your head towards the only other person on the terrace bar with you. He’d surely been sitting there when you walked past just now. But you were in your own world, and you were thirsty so you hadn’t noticed him.

“Did you just laugh at me?” You quizzed at the white haired gentleman just a few feet from you.

He turned towards you, giving you a toothy grin. “Yeah, cause it was funny.”

You stared at him, wondering why he had the blindfold on. It dawned upon you that he was probably blind, and you didn’t want to be rude.

“Yeah, I guess it was.” You giggled in the most non-confrontational way possible.

“Good for you, though. Knowing your limits.” He said, taking a sip of his own drink. “Ugh. Yo, bar tender, could make this a little sweeter?”

You didn’t know many guys that liked their drinks brimming with sugar like that. Then it dawned upon you about how unconventional and unsafe it was for a blind man to be at a club. He could get roofied and kidnapped and he wouldn’t know a thing. You looked down at his legs. He doesn’t even have a cane.

“Are you here alone?” You asked, almost worried for the guy.

“Are you?” He asked smugly. Was he... hitting on you?

You instinctively adjusted your bodycon dress. It barely covered your butt when you sat down like that, making you place your purse above your lap. But then you remembered, he’s blind.

“No. My friends and I planned this party.” You asked. “Who invited you?”

“A friend of a friend who knew my friend’s cousin, who told my friend and I that we should definitely come to this party in Shibuya City.” He explained whilst shooting you another cheeky smile.

“Uh huh...” you slurred. You plopped your head down on the table, staring at him while you leaned on your arm. He was kind of cute, for a blind guy, you thought. You felt a little insensitive for putting it that way in your head. He had this mysterious vibe about him.

The bar tender set your syrupy drink beside you, but you just continued to look at him.

“I hope that’s just soda.” The white haired male quizzed, picking up a skewered piece of fruit from his drink as the bar tender placed his cup back beside him.

You rolled your eyes, “Yup, just sprite and high fructose corn syrup.”

“You’re cute.” He said, chuckling deeply. You felt your face heating up. His voice was buttery smooth. You wanted to make more conversation with him but you just shyly sat up and hugged your straw with your mouth.

Your eyes caught on his jawline. God damn, you thought. You felt like you could ogle as long as you wanted, what was he gonna do about it?

His face is pretty proportionate. He could model if he wanted. His legs looked long on the stool, and he had broad shoulders. He probably could model, you thought. He surely had the height for it.

It wasn’t til he turned towards you and stuck his tongue out that you jumped a little. Just as he was about to say something, you heard a cellphone notification sound, and you frantically reached towards your purse.

“Ah, that’s me.” He said, fishing his phone out his pocket. You watched him unlock his phone, and send a text.

“Wait, you’re not blind?!” You said, somehow feeling a little violated. You were the one staring through his soul this entire time.

“Is that what you thought?” He chuckled. “I was just about to ask you if you were checking me out, or possibly still feeling tipsy.”

You were at lost for words, feeling stupid. It was normal for you to assume he couldn’t see.

“Who the hell wears a blindfold to a party?”

“Hmmmm, maybe the birthday person? If it’s a surprise party. And then there’s me. I do that.” He grins.

You have a mortified look on your face, earning another laugh from him.

“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re attractive too.” He cocked his head to the side, holding his cheek in his palm.

“Thank you...” You said, head feeling hotter than it did when you were drunk in the bathroom earlier.

“I was just about to leave too. I wasn’t having that good of a time. Not to sound rude though, you and your friends planned a good party. I just finished playing wingman earlier and I was bored as hell.”

“It’s okay.. I get it.” You said, sheepishly bringing your straw to your lips again.

“Was...” He spoke again. “I was bored. Til this sweet baby girl sat beside me. Now, I’m intrigued.”

“You’re the intriguing one. I can’t even see half of your face.” You blurted out through red cheeks. He talked with such finesse. You crossed you legs, and he bit his lip playfully at you.

“Ahh, I suppose I could show you. You wanna see that bad?” He licked his lips, leaning forward a bit. Though there were two seats between you, you still pressed your back against the wall.

You slowly swallowed. “I mean... I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Honey, it’s yes or no. Are you as curious about me as I am about you?”

You couldn’t lie. You knew he was attractive even with the blindfold. But the eyes are the window to the soul right? What kind of man were you sitting with right now?

“Let’s bargain a little, yeah? When was the last time you did something crazy, hmm?” He hummed.

You didn’t know, you were so concentrated on the idea of seeing his face. And he’s changing the subject, but he’s still looking right at you, putting you on the spot.

“Define crazy.” You said.

“Skinny dipping, going home with a stranger, robbing a convenience store, you know- crazy shit.”

You burst out laughing at how he smoothly threw that in there. He chuckled along with you.

“It’s been a few hours.” You say, crossing your legs in the opposite direction.

“I like that answer.” He says. “So, if I show you what’s under this blindfold of mine, would you consider coming home with me?”

You were crazy for even considering it when he casually mentioned it the first time. You had no idea who he was, and he could murder you as soon as you both left.

But your gut hadn’t been doing it’s usual thing for the first time in a while. You were nervous, but not because you were scared. He was simply a smooth guy.

“Alright. Let’s see that mug of yours.” You cross your arms.

He lets out a throaty laugh. “Okay,

sweetheart.”

He moves one stool closer towards you and leans on the counter. No one else but you could see his face from this angle. He slowly reached his finger up to pull down the fabric.

He definitely knew how to drag on the moment.

“Or better yet, let’s let the lady of the evening do it, shall we?” He said, bringing his large hands to cover yours. They were hot, and your heart was racing. He lifted both of your hands towards his face.

“Go on, sweets.” You nervously put your fingers into the fabric, sliding it down over his nose and mouth.

****🌏👄🌏 〰️👄〰️ 🌊👄🌊****

You were star struck. The words were dry on your tongue. He was stupendously beautiful. So beautiful you thought it was unfair. His eyes coaxed you further towards him. You could somehow see everything in them, and nothing but blue at the same time.

He brought you back to reality when he stuck his tongue out at you.

“Like what you see?”

“You’re... gorgeous..” You managed to say through blushing cheeks, sitting back up straight.

“Thank you~”

“Alright. That’s enough for now. Don’t want you passing out on me.” He slid the blindfold back up, earning a slight dissatisfied whine from you.

“So, are you down?” He asked, putting his face right back in his palm, grinning from ear to ear. He was honest, and normally you thought you’d be offended by someone blatantly asking you to sleep with them.

Your legs stood up, pulling down what you could of your black bodycon dress.

“You better show me a good time, or I’ll give you the worst review of your life.” You adjusted your purse strap on your shoulder, swaying your hips and offering him a playful smile. The alcohol that wasn’t digested yet gave you a boost of confidence, you passed some hair behind your ears, looking down at him.

“My sex speaks for itself.” He stood up, towering above you and putting out his arm for you to hold. You blushed before loosely wrapping your hand around it. It’s like he had a response for everything, you thought.

“Lucky for you I don’t live too far from here. So you’ll get everything you’re fantasizing about real soon.” He bent down, whispering to you.

How could he be so sure he was going to pleasure you? A stranger he was, he didn’t even know your name, nonetheless how and where you liked to be touched the most.

What a cocky little-

“By the way, my name is Gojo Satoru.” He lifted his blindfold on one side and peered down at you. You’d heard of the name before, but it could be pure coincidence.

“(Name).” You looked away, blushing yet again under his gaze.

“Cute as hell.” He bent down towards your face. “Why don’t we tell your friends that you’re leaving with me, hmmm?”

He walked through the bar with you on his arm, finding your friends. They were in awe at the snack you’d found, realizing who he was far before you did. They coaxed you to go for it.

You turned on your location, and he assured them he’d bring you home.

Then you were in his car, which was incredibly spick and span. You anxiously pressed your thighs together. It smelled of new car and pine scent. Such a guy thing, you thought.

“Are you nervous?” He asked. He turned on the radio, attempting to lighten the mood.

“No, your car is just nice.” You pouted, looking out the tinted windows.

“I know right?” He grinned. “Man I love this song.”

Cocky was an understatement.

You realized that one of your favorite songs had been playing. You watched him confidently sing the lyrics.

“You don’t know it?” He asked, turning towards you.

“Of course I do. It’s my favorite.” You say proudly.

“I knew there was something I liked about you.” He said, humming soon after.

“Ditto. You have decent music taste.” You said.

You both vibed, and eventually he pulled into a parking garage of a fancy apartment building you surely knew you couldn’t afford to rent.

“You live here?” You asked, as he opened the door for you. He gently took hold of your hand before speaking.

“Yup. Feel free to come visit me whenever after tonight.”

“What makes you so sure I’ll be coming back?” You stood up, looking up at him as you pulled your dress down once more.

“You will. I just know.” He chuckled.

“You get around a lot, don’t you Satoru?” You quiz, watching him close the car door and click the button on his keys.

“Here and there. I work more than I’d like to.” He said motioning you to hook yourself onto his arm again.

You wanted to ask him more about his line of work, but he quickly spoke again.

“I just realized you called me by my first name. What a cutie~” He teased.

“What did you want me to call you?” You asked, heels clicking as you both walked towards the elevator.

“If you were my lover, a plethora of things. For now, you can call me whatever you want.”

You poked your cheek with your tongue. “Then I choose your first name.”

“A classic.” He said, pressing the button on the top floor.

“What do your other mistresses call you?” You peered up at him.

“Charming, sometimes cocky.” He looked down at you. This guy was something else.

“You know what I meant.” You said, gripping his arm a bit.

“Lighten up, honey. It’s all about you right now.”

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” You realized it wasn’t a tasteful question to ask in this moment, but you hoped to get some insight about him depending on his answer.

“Most definitely. My family expects me to have the strongest offspring.” He said, cocking his head back in frustration.

“You don’t want to get married?” You ask.

“I do. But not for reasons like that.” He said, exiting the elevator with you. You caught on to what he meant.

“So what would it take for you to fall in love?”

“You make it sound like you want to be a contender.” He smugly smiled at you.

“I get sappy when I’m tipsy.” You blurt out, ears hot and looking in the opposite direction.

He let out a hearty laugh. “As for your question, someone who understands me, which is kind of hard for most people. Oh, and a good sense of humor.”

You hummed, wondering if you fit the bill. You were just here for the sex, but his whole vibe piqued your interest. The blindfold, money, and the name you heard rumors about. He was handsome too, gracing you by allowing you to see his eyes. He seemed to have it all. And all this talk eluding to how he was about to rock your world made you a little nervous.

Could you deliver anything for him besides your body?

You watched him fish out his keys and slide them into the door knob. A blast of cool air hit your skin and the scent of suede and leather furniture found your nose. You stepped inside, leaving your heels at the door.

“What did you say you do for a living again?” You peered back at him, watching him hang his jacket and shutting the door.

“I’m an accountant.” He says slyly. You let out a laugh, and he knows you didn’t believe him, nor did he expect you to.

You left it at that, watching him approach the kitchen. He washes his hands, and motioned you to do the same. “Can I get you anything? I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

You shook your head. “You can cook?”

“In the midst of my survival, it became a necessity, alas’ I learned.” He said sarcastically, taking out two bottles of water. He set one in front of you anyway and took some gulps from his own.

“Couldn’t you have said ‘yes, my parents taught me’ like a normal person?” You said, sitting on the stool by the island.

“I could have. But I’m far from normal, if you couldn’t tell.” He pulled down his blind fold and set it on the island countertop, exposing his face again.

“Why do you wear it... if you don’t mind me asking...”

“I’m sensitive to light. Sometimes I wear glasses. It’s a mood.” He was lying, and you knew. You didn’t actually expect him to tell you the truth. You weren’t particularly bothered either. There were plenty of things he didn’t know about you.

“Is there anything you want to ask me?” You say, tapping your fingers on the bottled water.

He placed a hand on his chin.

“Are you allergic to latex?” He leaned directly across from you.

“No...” You smirked. “That was thoughtful.”

“That’s just the kind of guy I am.” He chuckled lightly. He slid around the table, closer towards you.

“Mhmmm.” You say, looking up at him. It was hard to stay focused. Why did he have to be so good looking? You could see the skin of his chest through his white t-shirt when he leaned over you like that. You tugged at your bottom lip.

“Actually, there’s one other thing.” He was so close his hair nearly touched your forehead. You could smell faint remnants of fruity alcohol and mint. You never even saw him pop one into his mouth.

And to guess what it could be, you had no clue. How could someone be so open but so hard to unveil at the same time?

“And what might that be?” The response is barely audible, made for only him to hear it.

“What would it take for you to fall in love?”

You were taken aback. All this time you honestly couldn’t tell how genuinely interested he was in you other than how you looked.

“You really wanna know?” You said, leaning towards him a little. His lashes were so long, he was so pretty he put your looks to shame- at least you felt that way.

“I asked you, didn’t I?” He said, cocking his to the side in the most kiddish, yet charming way ever.

“Someone who could make me feel safe. A good listener, a good communicator, and someone whose funny. And then I cross my fingers and hope for the sex to be good.” You explain. He laughs a bit before speaking.

“And I just happen to be here right in front of you. Quite the coincidence, don’t you think?” He curls his lips into a sly smile.

“You’ve yet to show me a few things. The sex may or may not be a dealbreaker.” You roll your eyes.

He brought a hand to your chin, touching noses with you now. “Alright, let me show you why I’m the best.”

He pulled your lips in for a soft kiss. His lips were smooth and slightly slick from whatever chapstick he was using. You had wanted him to kiss you so badly, growing anxious of the sexual tension between the conversations you were having. His teeth pulled against your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. The pressure from the suction sent messages to the nerves in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t often someone could give you pleasure in your core from a kiss.

You let out delicate whine, making him let go and press his forehead against yours.

“How was that?” He asked. The tone behind it clearly displayed that he knew he had gotten to you but he had asked you anyway, just because.

“Terrible.” You say, adverting your gaze from his eyes and towards his rosy lips.

“Guess I have to try again.” He says, taking hold of your mouth with his once again. He’s closer to your body now, touching and swirling his fingers down your back. He sent chills down your spine, sucking and pulling firmly at your lips.

His tongue fell into your mouth somehow, and you welcomed it. You found yourself trying to stick your tongue in his mouth, oddly invested in making him see you had been a decent kisser yourself. Your hands were living in his hair, around his neck. You weren’t shy to touch him at all.

“Look whose all over me.” He smirked.

“You’re supposed to be showing me something, right?” You tugged at his shirt, earning a laugh from him.

He dipped his head down towards your lips again, continuing his tongue work for you. He snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You slipped out the stool, on your top toes. Your chest pressing against his, you could feel his heart beat. You could smell his shampoo, his cologne. All of it filled your brain. Your body felt like some sort of electric current connecting with his as soon as skin touched skin. You draped your arms around his neck, realizing just how touch starved you actually were.

He had been pumping life into you and sucking it out at the same time. His large hot hands began running up and down the exposed back skin of your dress.

"Jump." He barely broke the kiss whilst ordering you.

You hopped best you could, and his hands found the back of your knees. You wrapped your legs around his torso before feeling large hot hands cup your ass cheeks. Your dress riding up this far was inevitable, but you couldn’t help but let out a small yelp when he clutched your butt like that.

He pulled away from the kiss for a moment, “Are you gonna make cute sounds like that the whole time?”

“Are you gonna keep making commentary about it?” You mulled.

He squeezed your butt again, this time smacking the left side. “Only if you want me to.”

“You’ve been making these cute little noises the whole night. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, it’s driving me nuts.” He adds, spinning you away from where you both had been standing.

You couldn’t say anything, and with him being so close you could only pan your glance else where.

“And blushing so hard just like that. It’s precious.” He cocked his head in the direction you looked away from him in.

“Can you go back to kissing me?” You requested, a feeble attempt to get him to stop talking about your flushed cheeks.

“So cute.” He cooed.

“It’s actually more unfair how good looking you are, you know that?” You managed to say.

He stuck his tongue out, shooting a wink at you.

You eagerly kissed him, taking his tongue into your mouth. He let out a low moan against your lips. You were suddenly eager to please him, you tightened you legs around him, grinding almost. You felt him walking through the condo space. His tongue took control again, swirling around yours. You were lost in his kiss when your back connected with cool fabric. He laid you down on the bed, your small body sinking into the fluff.

“I’m about to spoil you rotten.” He sat up above you, removing his shirt and tossing it to the floor. He was fitter than you expected. Pale skin with hues of pink here and there. You wondered what his skin routine was. Or maybe it was genetics? It was a bit nerve-racking. He seemed to be this perfect human being, physically speaking.

He lowered himself to your neck, putting his hot mouth against your skin. He sucked at the soft skin, nipping it with his teeth. He cupped one of your breasts, squeezing and massaging firmly. You were ecstatic he was finally touching you. As you rubbed your hand against his smooth chest his tongue found your sweet spot. You whined again, earning a hum from him.

You felt him drag his mouth down your neck resting sweet kisses between your mounds.

“May I?” He asked, tugging the bottom of your dress. You nodded. You sat up, pulling the thing off yourself.

“Getting impatient I see.” He said, passing his thumb over your chin.

“Hurry it up.” You roll your eyes again.

“Maybe I want our first time to be special.” He teased.

“I didn’t pin you as the sentimental type.” You say.

“I’m a man of mysteries, but you know that already.” He said, pressing his lips to yours again.

Your hands gently held the sides of his head, kissing him back. His hair was undeniably soft as silk. He broke away from your mouth, kissing your collarbone instead. His large hands took to your breasts again, exposing one of your nipples to the cool air. They were already hard and swelling to be touched.

He placed his wet mouth onto it, sucking and flicking his tongue against the thing. You were squirming beneath him. Aching to be stimulated else where, your underwear was damp from your core, pooling between your legs.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly while he sucked. Your placed your hands on the back of his head, almost patting him for doing so well. You whimpered softly, attempting to grind against him to give yourself some sort of stimulation down there.

“I’ve got you, baby. You’ll get all of it. Be a good girl and hold out for me.” He said, looking up at you. You wish you could’ve watched the slick words fall from his lips, but you couldn’t see them under your breasts.

You gave him a bashful nod. You were beginning to melt under his touch. You didn’t know what came over you, but you were ready to submit to him. Your needy and throbbing pussy was draining the bratty energy right out of you. He hadn’t done much, but you were ready to do whatever he asked of you.

You felt him unhook your bra whilst he sucked and massaged your mounds. The fabric slid off your body as he mumbled against your skin. “So sexy.”

“You’re the sexy one.” You told him, knowingly feeding his ego.

“Thank you.” He said proudly, setting you down flat again. You watched him trail his lips down your stomach, leaving kisses in some places” He was feathering and brushing his lips on the skin more than actually kissing it, just to tease you.

He placed his fingers under the hem of your underwear, pulling them down and exposing your sweet sex. Your wetness dribbled onto the bed as he slid the fabric down your thighs and past your ankles.

“Are you this wet all the time?” You watched him cock an eyebrow through his bangs. You bit your lip.

“You talk too much.” You turned your head.

“You think so?” He said, spreading your legs and dipping his head towards your sex. He split your sticky, wet folds with two fingers, exposing your clit and pressing the flat of his tongue against it in an upward flick.

“Mmm.. nnh...” You moan, showing him that you liked it.

He hummed back at you before pressing a kiss to your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue over it. He pulled you down towards the edge of the bed, mouth still buried onto you. One arm wrapped around your body, hand cradling your rib cage. His other hand pinning one of your legs as far back as he thought you could manage.

“Ahh... fuck.. ah...” You cursed. You wondered where he learned to eat pussy like that. You were trembling in his arms, raking your hands through his hair and undercut.

He slipped a finger into you, curling against the roof of your sex, causing your spine to curl in response. You let out a cracked and broken moan, much to his liking.

He inserted another finger into you, allowing more slick to collect onto his hand and into the bed. He was so good, you sat up with the bit of strength you had just to watch him eat it. His deep, azure ocean eyes were resting on your frame the whole time, waiting for you to cum.

“Just like that...” Your eyes rolled back, you were reaching your end. You started clenching around his fingers and throbbing against his tongue.

“G’head. Cum for me.” He parted his lips from your sex for only a second, flicking and sliding his fingers in and out of you.

Your body obeyed, releasing onto his hands and tongue. He kept at it, overstimulating you as he watched you ride out your orgasm.

When he finally ripped his fingers and tongue from you, you were a panting mess.

“I’ve got a lot more for you.” You watched him lick the slick from his fingers. He towered above your body, tilting his to the side before speaking again.

“But do you need to rest?” He seemed genuinely concerned for your weak body. He almost thought he should’ve held back a little. Maybe just the tongue would’ve been fine, he thought.

“I’m fine.” You say, partially dazed. He’s definitely something else, you think.

“We can keep going.” You sit up, pushing him backwards.

“Pants. Take them off.” You demand.

“Anything you say.” He’s delighted, unbuckling and stripping the rest of his clothes for you. Your eyes twitch at his size. He was part animal without question- he had to be. You’d seen your share of sizes, but you couldn’t humble this guy even if you tried.

“Are you kidding me,” you mutter. “Is there anything you don’t have?”

“I hate to break it to you, but no.” He complacently smiled. You found yourself laughing a little before he spoke again.

“Actually, a wife and kids,” he said, turning towards one of his dressers, digging inside.

“And frankly, I’d like to keep it that way.” He said, ripping the condom wrapper with his teeth. You watched him slide the rubber over and down his shaft.

“That’s a little disappointing...” the words fell from your lips without you realizing.

“Again, eventually. I’d like to start off with a girlfriend first, obviously.” His response triggered a mental face palm on your part, making you realize you’d said what you said out loud.

You felt like a teenage girl. Why did a little part of you decide he was husband material just from him eating you out? He’s still a stranger. A naked one, but a stranger.

“You’re adorable.” He said, climbing above you. “You’ve got a crush on me now?”

“Get to fucking.” You tugged at his ear, clearly agitated. He dipped his head towards your ear and whispered,

“That’s okay. I’ve got a crush on you, too.”

The urge to cover your face in embarrassment was strong. He chuckled, “it definitely should be crime for anyone to be this precious.”

“You’re making my heart squeeze, looking all cute like that.” He took hold of his member in his hand, pressing and sliding it through your wet folds.

“Alright, I’ve made you wait long enough.” He said, penetrating himself into you. Your hot sex slowly wrapped around his length, you wrapped your arms around him bracing yourself for the sharp pain that followed. You let out painful squeak.

“Oh shit- I’m so sorry sweetheart.” He shushed you. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks and neck. You were surprised at how tender he was being. His delicate side was seeping out at the seams.

“I’m okay... Just give me a moment.” You say, your heart skipped a beat as you adjusted to his size. He caressed you ears and kept giving you soft kisses on your face and neck.

“If you keep that up I might fall in love with you.” You tease, but apart of you meant it.

“You might.” He said, earning yet another bashful look from you.

“You can move now.” You assured him, nuzzling more into the bed. He braced his hips back before pumping in again, and again, and again.

He kept poking parts of your vaginal canal that you never even thought possible, like he was scratching this insatiable itch you had for years now. You never knew you could feel this full.

His lips connected to the skin underneath your ear, sucking and kissing you gently as he thrusted into your hot sex.

“..so... d-deep... it’s so... deep.” You stuttered through every jab at your core. The heat radiating off of your body felt hot enough to start a fire. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought you had a fever. You raked your fingers through the smooth of his undercut and combed through his hair as he fucked you.

“Why the fuck is it so wet?” He groaned into the crook of you neck. Your other arm wrapped around his back, trying so hard not to scratch his delicate skin. You didn’t want to hurt him, nonetheless you couldn’t tell if he’d be okay with it.

Your sweet moans filled the room, which took nicely to his ears. His hips bucked into you quicker, causing ripples of bliss throughout your body. Somehow, your toes were tingling, curling even, and you could feel pleasure in more places than just the center of your sex. You barely knew what to do with your hands, gripping the sheets and pillows around you.

“You can pull my hair if you want,” he said, lifting himself from the warm space he created between your neck and shoulder.

You gladly accepted, pulling some hair on the back of his head as he continued to thrust into you. You realized he sort of lead you on, giving you the match to start a fire in him. He shot you the most seductive blue glare as his head jerked back in delight. He bit his lip into a smile, thrusting faster into you.

Your moans went from sweet song to broken and incoherent mess. “T-That’s not f-fair.”

“When did I ever say I was fair?”

You felt like he was winning again somehow, not really registering when it became a competition. You wanted to fight back, pulling his hair again, exposing his neck to your mouth. You pressed your mouth to the skin, sucking and biting against it.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that, sweetie?”

He slipped both arms around your body pulling both your bodies up straight. He was still inside you, rocking your body onto his length. He brought his lips back to your neck, sucking and biting against it.

“Ahh...” you panted. “F-fuck, put me down!”

“You’re gonna cum just like this.” He said, bouncing your body up and down his shaft. You didn’t think he could go any deeper, but gravity brought you down onto his length, forcing heavy moans from your lips.

You were lost in his sex, finding yourself bucking your hips back onto his length and grinding forward against him.

“What a sweet girl, you like that, right? Of course you do.”

You felt yourself reaching another orgasm, and your grinding became erratic against him.

“Yeah that’s right, grind on it baby.”

You released yourself onto him, leaning forward over his shoulders, panting heavily.

You were surprised when he laid you back down for a moment, watching him pin both your legs back and over his shoulders.

“Let’s see if you can take it like this.”

He pumped himself into yet again, earning a ragged moan from your frail self. You could feel him so deep in your guts, you were getting light headed from the overwhelming pleasure. You braced yourself for each thrust as he pounded into you. You juices were splashing with every plunge he made. He sat up, before speaking.

“Hold the back of your legs for me, baby.” He said, watching himself pump into your sopping cunt.

“Such a pretty pussy.” If there was anything Satoru adored most, it had to be watching his partner from an angle like that. He took his thumb and held it to your mouth.

“Suck,” he pressed it to your lips; waiting for you to open your mouth while he fucked you. You let him put his thumb in your mouth while he held your jaw with his large hand. You swirled your tongue around it before he pulled it away and mouthed a ‘thank you’ at you. He placed the slick thumb against your clit for you and rubbed in circles while he pumped.

You squealed in delight, finding yourself starting to beg him to make you cum again.

“I will honey,” he grinned, “I will.”

Your arms and legs were weak from being pinned back, falling to his sides. You had just enough strength to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you again, connecting his mouth with yours. You begged for his tongue, moaning against his lips.

“Fuck..” he mumbled into your mouth. You clenched yourself around him. He could feel himself nearing his orgasm but he had promised to spoil you first. It was getting harder for him to fight back the urge to release.

Your clit was throbbing, and you were dribbling a bit at the mouth. He pulled your bottom lip into his, sucking hard. You couldn’t hold it any longer.

“You’re cumming again, aren’t you? Moan my name for me, pretty please?”

The pace of his thrusts didn’t falter, giving you the final orgasm you so desperately deserved. You screamed his name, voice cracking whilst he battered your pussy.

Your voice was hoarse, riding your orgasm out as he approached his. It was enough to send him over the edge, satiating his ego and so much more. You’re throbbing erratically, and all he could feel was his cock being gulped swallowed by you. He shuddered against your lips, releasing himself into the rubber he wore inside you.

He collapsed beside you. Your brain was cloudy from pleasure. You watched his chest rise and fall as he peered and panted back at you, holding his member in his hand. He slid the condom off and tossed it to the floor.

You were alarmed he was still hard. You could barely move, hips gyrating and insides throbbing a muck. Trying your best to gather your thoughts, you turned your body towards him.

“Will I be getting my review now or later?” He snickered, damp bangs sticking to his forehead. You took hold of the nearest pillow, and slammed it onto his face.

“Later I presume?” He laughs. “I’ll give you time to think it over.”

You would be thinking about it for while. It wasn’t often you’d meet someone who delivered on everything they said they’d do. It was uncanny how perfect he was. Could you fall for him because of it? Or should you keep your qualms to yourself and try to forget everything about tonight? And now that you remembered, he told you he had a crush on you, or was he egging you on in the spur of the moment?

“Do you want a t-shirt?” He asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. He had already managed to get some underwear on while you laid there lost in thought.

“A t-shirt?” You say, puzzled. Your arms go to cover your bare chest as you sit up, hair completely messy.

“I’m kind of tired. I thought I could drive you home in the morning instead.” He yawned, pulling on some sweat pants.

“You’re not kicking me out?” You say, catching the shirt he tossed you as he tied the strings to his pants.

“Just what do you take me for?” He said, cocking his head to the side. You were starting to wonder if his neck hurt. You watched him bend down and pull out what seemed like a hot towel from an incubator and hand it to you.

“I can wipe you up if you’d like. Front to back!”

“I’ve got it.” You say nervously, wiping the insides of your damp thighs.

You slid the gray t-shirt over your head, “And I dunno, I just thought this is where the night would end for me.”

“Sweetie, I literally just told you that I like you. Did you forget?”

“Y-You were serious?” You stutter.

“Did you not want me to be?” He casually walks towards a mini fridge sitting in the corner. He pulled out two more bottles of water and handed one to you whilst drinking his own.

“It’s not that at all, it’s just we hardly know each other and-

“So you do like me?” He quizzed.

“I mean I wouldn’t say that I don’t but-

“So we can work out the details later.” He grinned.

You facepalmed. He looked down at you as you sat there on the edge of the bed before letting out a sigh.

“Why don’t you drink some water and then we can get ready for bed? Unless you really want to go home. I’ll drive you. Tell me what you want, it’s no problem at all.” He kneeled in front of you, showing you that he did have compassionate side.

You couldn’t lie, you did want to lay in bed with him. It wasn’t a matter of trust anymore. You felt confident that he wouldn’t hurt you. You were more concerned that he decided he liked you on the spot like that. Actually, you were more concerned that you decided you liked him on the spot like that.

“I’m staying. I’m tired too.” You smiled. “I wasn’t trying to fuss. I do like you a lot.” A little more than you should, but you decided to leave that part out.

“Then that settles it.” He smiles back, holding your chin. “Now, it’s important to stay hydrated! Especially after a work out!”

He held the water up to your mouth.

“I can do it myself.” You say, grabbing the water out of his hands, taking a few swigs. He holds up his hands in defense.

“Well, the bathroom is down the hall to the left. You can also use my personal bathroom, which is through that door right there. I also have spare tooth brushes too!” He assured you.

“So you do do this often. Hmph.” You say, laying back on the bed.

“Girls have it rough. I try my best to have the necessities.” He shrugged, laying beside you. Your eyes drag down towards his bare chest skin before looking right back up towards his eyes.

“I can also go sleep in the other room if you need more security.” He suggests.

“I was looking forward to sleeping with you in here.” You say quietly.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

You glared at him, acknowledging that you know that he heard you and you wouldn’t repeat yourself.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” He laughed. He tucked himself underneath the covers before lifting the other side and patting the empty space for you.

You crawled up and slid underneath the cool fabric. He reached over your body to turn the lights off.

He snuggled himself down to your height and you could still faintly see his face.

“Comfy?” You nodded shyly. His bed was undeniably firm yet fluffy.

“Good.” He smiled.

He’d been so kind yet so arrogant at the same time. Just how were you going to figure him out? He said there was time to work out the details, but your head still spun a thousand miles a minute. For someone who had it all, and clearly many secrets, he was seemingly cheery. You had no idea what bothered this guy. But he’d taken a liking to you somehow. And you couldn’t stop blushing at the fact that he literally just fucked you senseless and now he’s smiling at you in his bed like nothing happened.

You inhaled and exhaled deeply, earning a confused look from him.

“10/10 oral experience. 10/10 sexual experience. 10/10 aftercare experience. 8.5/10 for not giving me pants. Overall rating is 9.6/10. Would come again.”

“You could’ve asked for pants,” He smirked getting up. You tugged his arm, shaking your head.

“You’re gonna let all the heat out. Stay.”

“But my score? I deserve a 10/10.” He argued playfully.

You wrapped your arm around him, pulling him back down underneath the blanket with you.

“Here’s your extra credit. Cuddle with me until the morning. It might change your grade.

Results may vary.”

He laughed lightly, wrapping his arms around your body.

“About that ‘would come again’ part. When will that be?” He said, looking down at you.

“Soon.” You said, burying your head into his chest.

Part 2

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo sensei #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk #jjk x reader

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Why Are You Here?

What happens when Y/N and Colson catch each other in a lie? And what could possibly happen on the bathroom counter at 12:05 am?

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), unprotected sex, cursing, probably some more idek.

A/N: I know people have done this before, but I fuckin love this song and this plotline

Word Count: 3444

The harsh light coming through the blinds woke you up, your eyes instinctively closing. You groaned as you came to realize where you were, the arm laying on your hips your first clue. You threw the tattooed arm off of you, sitting up and dangling your feet over the edge of the bed.

The man in your bed groaned, reaching out for you. You chuckled, finding the shirt you wore last night on the floor and throwing it on, pulling your panties up your legs. “C’mon Colson, it’s 10:45, you know the rule.”

He grumbled again, rolling onto his back. “The rule says I still have 15 minutes.” His arm reached up to cover his eyes from the light as you chucked his shirt at him.

“If you want to walk out of my house naked, be my guest. But if you’re still in here after 11 the deal’s off.” You walk into the bathroom, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. You hear the blond man follow behind you, seeing him in the reflection. He had his boxers on, which was a start at least.

He came behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and dipping his head to connect his lips to your neck. “So,” he started, pressing a kiss to the skin, “I’m not gonna-“ another kiss, your eyes closed, “be in town-“ you let a small moan fall from your lips, “tonight.” His lips paused at your ear, his hot breath hitting the sensitive skin. “So, I guess you’ll have to find some way to entertain yourself.” He smirked, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

You smiled, your eyes darting to the watch on his wrist. “7 minutes.” You whispered, walking out of his arms and back towards your bedroom. “I’ll probably just stay in again tonight, without you this time.”

You sat on your bed, watching him struggle to pull his jeans up. You giggled as he searched for the shirt he wore the night before, finding it hanging from your lamp. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then?” He asked, walking over to you.

“If you’re lucky.” You grinned. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips, and letting you go with a smirk. “2 minutes.” You whispered. He chuckled, leaning in to kiss you again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing up.

He let go, biting his lip and walking backwards towards your door. “Tomorrow night. My place.”

You nodded, a small smile on your face as he turned, his shirt still in his hand. You watched the way his back moved as he strutted out of your room, the toned muscles accentuated at every step.

Hours later, you got a text from Matt, better known as blackbear.

Friend of mine is throwing a party tonight. Come with?

You and bear had been friends for a couple months now, meeting, surprisingly, through Colson. You were just friends, but you loved partying with him. He was fun. And if Colson couldn’t be with you tonight, maybe he could be.

Yeah! When and where?

He answered quickly.

Pick you up at 10

It was 8:30, so you decided you could start getting ready. You went to your closet, looking at the pieces in there. The first thing your eyes landed on was an elegant white 3-piece lingerie set. It had lace designs all over it and straps for days. It was your favorite piece of lingerie you owned, and Colson’s favorite too.

Your finger ran along it, your head tilting. What would be the harm in wearing it? You’d feel sexy as hell.

So, you did. You hid it underneath an oversized T-shirt and baggy jeans, high heeled combat boots and a chain belt to match. You knew bear’s friends weren’t the fancy party types.

You walked into the house, the smell of weed and alcohol hitting you immediately. You intertwined your fingers with bear’s, his eyes glancing up at you, questioning you. You ignored it, dragging him through the crowd to the makeshift bar set up in the kitchen.

You downed two shots before grabbing a vodka sprite cocktail. Bear followed suit, dragging you to the middle of the crowd to dance. His hands grabbed your waist, you both swaying to the music and laughing at nothing.

Unbeknownst to you, Colson had walked in a few minutes later, hand in hand with a girl who looked a lot like you. He spotted you almost immediately, and then he saw the hands around your waist and the drunken smile on your face. He was so busted if you saw him.

“Want a drink?” He half-yelled over the music to the girl next to him.

She shrugged, “I don’t really drink.” Colson tried to keep his shoulders from visibly slumping. He nodded, grabbing the girl’s hand, and leading her to the opposite side of the dance floor as you.

He was hoping that going out with someone that wasn’t you would help him let go of you, but this girl was not gonna be the one to do that. Luckily, he ran into Rook and Dub, both raising their eyebrows at the girl on his side.

Rook and Dub introduced themselves to the girl, who looked like she would rather be anywhere but here.

You and bear decided to take a break from dancing and headed to the wall, wanting to just talk. As you leaned against the concrete, your eyes caught a familiar face. You tilted your head, taking in the blond man that had woken up in your bed this morning. You chuckled, shaking your head before you saw the girl on his arm, stopping you dead in your tracks.

“What’s up?” bear asked, leaning over you with his hand supporting his weight.

“Nothing, just saw someone I wasn’t expecting.”

Bear nodded, turning his head to follow your gaze, still stuck on Colson. “You and Colson?”

You laughed, trying to hide the jealousy running through your veins. “Hell no.” You stood up straight, your faces very close to each other. “I’m gonna go get a drink, you want anything?”

Your noses were almost touching, which seemed to stun bear, as he was holding his breath. You stepped back, waiting for his answer. “Uh- no. I’m good.”

You bit your lip, heading towards the bar and closer to Colson and his arm candy. If he wants to bring other people around, then why not have a little fun.

Colson watched your interaction with bear, saw how close you got to him, how the man instinctively leaned in closer to you. His jaw clenched at the sight, eyes darkening.

“Dude, you good?” Dub asked, bringing his attention back to the conversation in front of him.

Colson nodded, trying to get the picture of you and bear out of his head. “Yeah, I’m good.”

The girl on his arm rolled her eyes and sighed. “This party is fucking stupid, let’s leave and go do something fun.” She whispered the last part in his ear, trying to turn him on. Colson was too distracted by you at the bar, chatting up the bartender, knowing he was watching.

“You can leave.” He mumbled to the girl; his gaze held on you. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, walking away from him. As she left, you turned to catch his eye, a smirk on your face. You were definitely doing this on purpose, the way you placed your tits to lay on top of the bar, a smirk on your face as you spoke to the bartender.

Rook laughed as the girl left, “Colson, are you sure you’re good, man.”

Colson brushed his concern off, “Yeah, I’m gonna go take a smoke.” He headed off towards the back door, pulling a joint and lighter from his pocket.

You looked over your shoulder, expecting to see Colson still staring at you, only to find him and his girl gone. You sighed, picking up your drink and heading back over to bear, who was waiting on the wall for you.

“Sorry, the bartender’s an idiot. He screwed up my drink twice.” You lied through your teeth, your free hand reaching up and resting lazily on bear’s neck. You were definitely a little drunk, but only enough to make everything around you a little euphoric.

“It’s all good.” The man leaned down, face very close to yours. He was definitely trying to kiss you. And honestly if Colson hadn’t been there you would’ve let him. But you had another target for the night.

You smirked, “let’s dance.” You grabbed his arm, pulling away from him and leading to the dance floor. You glanced at the clock, reading the numbers 11:35.

Colson came back 20 minutes later in a much better state of mind. If you were trying to make him jealous, it meant you wanted him to take you home, not the other guys you were with. But boy oh boy was it working.

He leaned against the counter, getting a cup of straight rum. You had strategically placed yourself on the outer edge of the crowd closest to the bar. He could see you swaying your hips to the music, bear’s hands dangerously close to your ass.

You looked up, catching his eye and smirking. You glanced up at the clock on the wall. 12 am. Midnight.

Finding his eyes again, you mouthed “Five minutes. Bathroom.”

Colson smirked, knowing he was right.

A few minutes later you told bear, “I gotta pee, be right back,” before heading towards the hallway, passing Colson. His eyes watched you, feeling like he was watching you in slow motion. He stood up straight and followed you to the hallway.

You had disappeared into the bathroom by the time he rounded the corner, so he had to try every door to find the bathroom.

When he found you, your clothes were off, leaving you in just your white lingerie. He bit his lip, eyes raking your body up and down. You were leaning against the wall opposite of the door, watching him through your eyelashes.

Colson locked the door, taking slow, calculated steps towards you. His left arm landed on the wall above you, his face leaning into yours. The pointer finger on his right hand traced the lace that covered your upper body, landing on the garter that wrapped around your thigh. He smirked, pulling the fabric away from your body and releasing it, the material meeting your skin with a pop.

“You didn’t know I was coming tonight.” His voice was low, his face dangerously close to yours. You could feel his breath hitting your lips and you wanted to swallow his words.

You shook your head as the hand near your thigh moved up to your hip, gripping the skin tightly and pulling your body into his. “Then why,” he breathed, his head dipping down to run his nose up and down your neck, stopping at your ear, “are you wearing that?”

You breathed in through your nose as you felt his dick through his tight pants, spreading a warmth through your body. You could already tell you were soaking. “Maybe I was hoping to find someone who could fuck me as good as you do.” You whispered into his ear as his lips made contact with your neck, biting the supple skin.

He pushed his hips up into you, his hard on pressing even harder against you. “You know you won’t ever find anyone else as good as me.” He growled, pushing away from you, and throwing his shirt off, his jeans coming off shortly after.

His hand came back to your skin, this time grabbing your breasts and massaging through the thin material. His other hand dragged its way down to your clothed pussy, massaging circles against your clit. You bucked your hips into his hand, moaning a quiet “I know.”

He chuckled, his face moving in front of yours as you bit your lips, trying to keep your moans of pleasure quiet. “Don’t be quiet baby, I want everyone to know how good you feel.” His lips met yours in a rough kiss. You brought your arms around his waist, nails dragging lightly across the skin. He smirked into the kiss as his hands moved to unclasp the top two pieces of your lingerie.

Your breasts fell out, and Colson wasted no time in grabbing them in his hands, taking the small buds in between his fingers and squeezing. His lips left yours and attached to your nipples, biting and sucking, leaving an array of hickeys across the skin. You moaned at the feeling of his tongue circling your nipple. “Always love sucking your tits.” He moaned, sending vibrations through your body.

He moved further down, reaching the top of your white panties. He bit his lip as he unclasped the material separating the panties from the garter. He pulled the former down, leaving your pussy exposed. His face was inches from your heat, and you fought the temptation to buck your hips into him. Colson’s eyes were trained on yours as he blew a stream of cold air at your clit. You rolled your head back, resting against the wall as you sighed in pleasure.

His lips connected to your clit, sucking the sensitive bud, sending flashes of pleasure through your body. Your hands tangled in his hair, pushing him further into you. You could feel him smile against your cunt, his arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling them over his shoulders one at a time.

With the easier access to your heat, Colson licked up your slit with a moan. “Fuck you taste so good.” He muttered, before darting his tongue into your pussy. He curled his tongue inside you, your body reacting to the feeling.

His hands moved up to your ass, squeezing and massaging your cheeks as he continued his attack on your cunt. You moaned, you hips rocking against his face as he ate you out. Your hands tightened in his hair, “Colson, I’m so fucking close.”

The man smirked against you, his tongue in your hole and his nose pressing against your clit. You could feel yourself nearing the edge, your hips bucking into his face as his pace sped up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You were so close.

“Want you to come on my face baby.” His voice sent you over the edge and you obeyed, your orgasm ripping through your body.

Your juices ran down Colson’s chin as he licked you up, a smirk playing on his lips. You moved your thighs off his shoulders, letting him stand up. Your hand reached up, wiping the cum off his chin with your thumb and then sucking it off, staring straight into his eyes as you did.

“Think you can take another one, angel?” His voice was soft but you could see the outline of his hard cock in his boxers. You nodded, biting your lip cheekily. Colson lifted you up and onto the bathroom counter then pulled the last bit of clothing off himself.

You took his length in your hands, pumping a few times. His head rolled back in pleasure at your movements as you relished the feeling of having him in the palm of your hand, figuratively and literally. His head came back up, connecting your lips as you continued to pump him.

He brought your lip in between his teeth as you lined his cock up to your entrance, teasing him with your slit. He smirked, knowing you thought you were in control, a thought that disappeared when he thrust into you, his length filling you up.

You both let out a string of moans, your legs wrapping around his waist. He pulled out of you almost completely before slamming back into you, causing another moan to fall from your mouth. Colson continued to slowly thrust into you, until you muttered, “Just fuck me already, Colson.”

His lips were at your neck again, leaving marks anywhere he could find room. He obeyed your command, picking up his pace but still slamming into you forcefully. His hand reached to your tit, grabbing the skin, and massaging it.

“Harder.” You whined and he smirked.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, baby.” He growled against your skin. “You know how to beg.”

“Oh fuck, Colson, please. Fuck me harder.” You whined, his pace not changing.

“Even better.” He was gonna make you work for this.

“Please, sir, fuck me hard like the slut I am.” You begged, your eyes closing in pleasure as his pace sped up, his cock hitting the spot that had your toes curling.

He could feel you clench around him, “You like that, you fucking whore?” He kept thrusting into you, hitting that same spot. “You like it when I fill you up with my fat cock”

His hand came up to wrap around your throat, pressing just lightly enough to stimulate you further. You nodded, eyes rolling back in pleasure as you felt yourself getting closer to your second orgasm of the night.

“I can feel you getting closer, you want to cum around my cock?” You hummed out, nodding your head. He removed his hand from your neck. “Use your words.”

His thrusts were getting faster and sloppier, and you knew he was close. “Yes sir, wanna come around your big, fat cock.” You whined as his dick twitched inside you. His hand moved to massage circles into your clit, driving you right to the edge.

“Then cum, slut.” His thrusts sent you into bliss, warmth spreading through your entire body as your pussy clenched around him, his hot seed spilling into you. He dragged your orgasms out as long as he could, thrusting sloppily into you.

When he stopped, you were both breathing heavily, your head resting against the mirror behind you and his on your bare chest. When he finally got his bearings, he reached for the box of tissues on the counter, cleaning up himself and then you.

As you hopped off the counter, pulling your top back on, you looked at him, head tilted. “So, what happened to your plans out of town?”

The man in front of you paused as he pulled his pants up. “I didn’t know how to tell you that I was going on a date.” He answered truthfully.

You looked down, his answer disappointing you. “Oh. How did it go?”

He chuckled, giving you an “are you serious?” look. “She left and I ended up fucking you in the bathroom of some dude’s house.”

You nodded your head. “I thought you were gonna stay home tonight?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

“I was.” You paused, pulling your shirt over you. “bear invited me out after you left so, here I am.” You shrugged.

He struggled with his pants, “Was it a date?”

You shook your head, pulling your own jeans up your legs. “Maybe he thought it was, I dunno. Just wanted to have some fun.”

“And you wore that because…” Colson trailed off, expecting an answer.

“In case I had fun.” You bit you lip, a smug look on your face. “You’re not mad that I went out tonight, are you?” You secretly hoped he would say yes.

“No, you can do whatever you want. You don’t need my permission to fuck other people.” Colson’s shirt covered his tattoos as he shrugged it on. “You don’t care that I went on a date tonight, do you?”

Yeah, I really do. “No, I don’t care.” You shrugged, moving to the mirror to fix your hair and makeup. “Just tell me when it gets serious so I can find someone else…” You trailed off, knowing that sentence wouldn’t end the way you wanted to say it.

Colson nodded, making eye contact with you in the mirror. You giggled, grabbing a tissue, and facing him. “You have lipstick on your nose.” You wiped it off as well as the smudges near his lips. Your hand stayed close to his lips, holding his face. Every bone in your body told you to kiss him for real, but you knew he wouldn’t kiss you back.

But he was thinking the same thing. He tried to laugh it off before he actually did kiss you and mess up what you had going on.

“So, we’re all good then, still just friends with benefits?” He asked as he turned back towards the mirror, fixing his hair.

You smirked at him, “Oh, Colson, we’ll never be friends.” You grinned as you walked out of the room, leaving the door to close behind you.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgk smut #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly smut #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker angst #colson baker smut

223 notes · View notes

honeymoonjin · 4 years

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, sub!jungkook, dom!reader, pegging, anal play, rimming, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, jk being a good good boy, dom!namjoon, sub!reader, bath sex, ageplay/DDlg, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names, spanking, creampie, aftercare in both cases

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and jk’s ass

DAY EIGHTEEN

All things considered; you were rather lucky to be sharing a room with Yoongi when you wake up that morning.

The second consciousness returns to you, it brings a feeling of nausea so abrupt that you’re careening off the bed and rushing to bed over the toilet without a second’s thought, body running on survival mode.

You’re not sure what wakes Yoongi - the sudden absence of pressure and heat against him, or the sound of you throwing up all the food and alcohol you’d consumed last night – but it takes mere moments before you feel him gently caressing your trembling body, lifting your tangled hair back off your face.

“Just let it out,” he coos softly as you bend over miserably, the sour taste on your tongue making your stomach turn again, “you’ll feel better after, I promise. That’s it.”

The moment you finally have nothing left to empty out, you collapse sideways onto the cool bathroom tile, hand curling over your stomach. Yoongi gets up to flush the toilet and gets out a spare toothbrush from under his sink, pressing it into your hand already prepped with toothpaste. “I’m sorry,” you mumble lowly, nose running slightly as you sniffle. “I think I drank too much. That green apple soju fucking sucks, too.”

The doctor has the good graces to smile at your attempt of lightening the mood, but it’s strained, waiting for you to begin brushing the acrid leftovers from your mouth before speaking. “You’d better have a light breakfast, okay? Some toast and maybe a cup of herbal tea to settle your stomach. Can you stand? I’ll get you some fresh clothes from your room while you take a shower here.”

Your heart warms at his endearing bedside manner. “I’ll be fine, Yoongi.”

“It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid,” Yoongi says with a mock sigh. “Come on; you can wash your hair, too. Feeling nice and clean will help.”

Sniffing one last time, you give him an agreeing nod and hunker up on your knees, before standing. God, but why do you still feel so nauseous? That fucking soju. Yoongi must see the discomfort on your face, because he gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Not to worry, I’m sure I have something here you can take which will make you feel better. You aren’t the first person to not handle their liquor in the villa.”

You give him a questioning frown, your throat feeling raw as you clear it lightly. “What do you mean? Everyone seemed okay yesterday.”

“Hoseok texted me,” Yoongi answers with a shrug. “I didn’t see it ‘til after you fell asleep, but apparently poor Tae was curled up with a hot water bottle last night feeling rather sorry for himself. I think he got a little trigger-happy on his Sprite and soju mixers.”

Your brows furrow in concern, your own condition forgotten. “Is he alright?” You mentally kick yourself for not being more attentive to him. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel excluded now that he was voted out.

“He’s fine, I’m sure. Hoseokie and Jimin apparently actually spent the night in the bunk room with him, because both refused to leave. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

“Holy shit,” you muse. “If you weren’t so busy filling me like a cream puff maybe we could’ve witnessed that.”

Yoongi’s mouth gapes at your jibe, and you let out a hiccupping giggle when he rushes you, jabbing at your sides. “You little shit! That’s how you repay me after yesterday?”

You chuckle, feeling significantly more cheerful than when you woke up. “I gotta keep you humble, Doctor Min.”

His shoulders jump with a fond huff. “You’re impossible,” he gives in with a begrudging smile. “Now go; shower! I’ll be back.”

By the time you’re downstairs, enjoying some lightly buttered toast and an aromatic peachy-tasting tea - laughing with Taehyung who has slunk downstairs like a viscous goop, slumped on the table sucking on a vitamin table - any concerns or worries about your brief vomiting spell have entirely left your mind.

Jungkook is antsy.

He cycles madly between intense eye-contact and complete avoidance of your existence, looking for all intents and purposes like a deer in headlights. You imagine it’s because he wants to do his prompt today, and you certainly could dispel the awkward tension by just asking him if he wants to go upstairs or texting him to dig a little, but where would the fun in that be? You much prefer cuddling with Taehyung and a chunky blanket, pretending to watch The Voice of Korea while you really watch Jungkook squirm instead.

Taehyung sighs wistfully as a contestant finishes with a belted high note, all four judges slamming down their buttons and giving the cameras big reactions once they turn and catch a glimpse of the singer. “I wish I could be on the show,” the masseuse says with another slow sigh.

You grin, poking him in the cheek with a single finger. “Is our puppy a good singer, huh? Do you reckon you’d win?”

“What?” Taehyung asks distractedly, his eyes locked to the screen. “No, I wanna sit in those big chairs and spin around. It’d be so fun.”

Your surprised laugh makes Jungkook jump in his seat, even as he sits on the opposite couch to the two of you and glares intensely at the pages of a comic book he’d stolen from someone, spending far too long on one page to actually be reading it.

Hoseok, who sits completely silently next to Jungkook - extremely strange for the normally bubbly man - is even more suspicious. Every few seconds, he shoves his phone under Jungkook’s nose, before pulling it away and typing furiously.

You had no doubt in your mind that he was giving the youngest contestant salacious tips, instructions, or both, judging by the way Jungkook’s cheeks get hotter with every message.

A lazy day after the drunken entertainment from the day before, the four of you had chosen to collapse onto the couch and stay there, flicking between channels as you idly enjoyed each other’s company. Namjoon had texted the groupchat and put a note on his door warning people that he was studying for an exam for a summer course he’d signed up for. This was the first you’d heard of said course, but his messages had contained several exclamation points, so you knew it was serious.

Jimin was also making the most of his privacy. The only glimpse you’d seen of him at all today was while you and Taehyung were cleaning your dishes. He’d rushed down in a fluffy white bathrobe, covering his face with his sleeve, bemoaning the drinking that had done serious damage to his clear skin. When he dropped his sleeve to bundle some ice into a paper towel, it looked fine to you, albeit pinker in the cheeks and forehead than his bare face had been before, but he swore the two of you to silence and determined he was going to lock himself into his room until he no longer looked like “an evil stepmother.”

Jin and Yoongi were nowhere to be found, though most of the house were almost certain they’d become something akin to fuckbuddies considering how often they disappeared together, and how rampant and shameless their sexual tension was whenever they cooked together for the rest of you.

It had taken a while for Taehyung to bounce back from his hangover, Hoseok fussing over him like a child as Tae clung to you for some tactile comfort. Spending a day by yourself hadn’t really been an option when you’d been cuddling with him for hours, but you were far happier spending some quality time with the masseuse.

It takes no more than three new contestants on the TV show to have their moment in front of the judges for Jungkook to break. Hoseok’s given up on the phone messages, instead whispering directly Jungkook’s ear as the boy clutches the open comic book in front of his lap so hard his knuckles go white.

Laughing at the flustered camboy, Hoseok loses all tact and stops damping his voice, his natural level loud enough that you can make it out over the garishly aggressive appliance store advertisement on the TV. “Come on, Kookie, it’ll be great!” he insists, Jungkook cringing at the volume. “Switching things up will help your chances for fan favourite too, and surely you’ve done-”

Jungkook stands up abruptly, comic book still propped up in front of his crotch as his cheeks and neck go bright red. “If you like pegging so much, why don’t you do it, then?” he blurts with a cry, before the realisation of what he said aloud hits him. Choking on air, he just about trips back onto the couch in his haste to leave, stomping upstairs like a wronged teenager.

Everyone goes silent, a cheery female voice announcing that Subway’s quality is higher than ever being the only sound in the room. Mouth open, you blink over to Hoseok. “Should I… go check on him?”

“Uh- Yeah, maybe,” he admits, a slight pained look of guilt flickering across his face before he brightens up. “But it’s dangerous; you should take a strap with you.”

You pause halfway through standing up, Taehyung letting go of you and curling deeper into the pile of blankets. “Have you no shame, Hoseok? You humiliated the poor kid!”

Hoseok grins broadly. “He only reacted that much because he liked the idea,” he protests, before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “And what about you, princess? Do you like the idea?”

You swallow, straightening up fully. “I haven’t really thought about it until now, I guess,” you offer up slowly. “I’m not- I’m not opposed.” But even as you say that, you begin to picture it. Jungkook on all fours in front of you, or perhaps spread out on his back, brows furrowed in pleasure, clingy and whiny. Though it was certainly new ground to you, most things were these days, and you’ve started craving fresh experiences, feeling more alive and excited about sex than you’ve ever really felt before.

A lightly huffed laugh leaves Hoseok’s lips. “I’d say you’re a little more than ambivalent, judging by that look on your face. Go upstairs now, princess; Jungkook’s ass needs you.”

You scoff, patting Taehyung’s cheek goodbye before leaving the way the maknae left earlier. Upstairs, Jungkook’s door is open the slightest sliver. A shy invitation.

You knock anyway, calling out his name. When his sullen voice invites you in, you slip inside and shut the door behind you. With his head hanging, shoulders slumped, poor Jungkook looks miserable. “Oh, Gukkie, baby, you’re okay,” you soothe, rushing to his side.

Folding his hands cutely over his crotch, he keeps his head down, but nuzzles against your stomach when you pull him into an embrace, running your hands through the long, heavy black locks of his hair. “‘M sorry,” he murmurs, lifting a single hand to ball his fist in the fabric of your shirt.

Your heart warms at the little action even as it aches for his sadness. “What are you sorry for? You don’t have to be sorry.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you can just about hear the pout. “Embarrassed,” he explains shortly. “You probably think it’s gross.”

“Of course I don’t,” you deny in a soft yet firm voice, still stroking his hair. “Baby, if you want me to do it for you, I will.”

He looks up suddenly, chin propped up on your stomach. “Really?” he asks in hope, eyes glittering like entire galaxies.

You shrug. “I mean, I haven’t used a strap-on before, so it probably won’t be very good, but I wanna try if it’s something that would make you happy, you know?”

Jungkook’s mouth parts sweetly, before he lets out a dejected breath. “I don’t know,” he says with a sigh, letting his head drop off you again. “I still feel really embarrassed. Hobi-hyung was te-teasing me so much.”

You wince at the way his voice hitches and wobbles, like he’s on the verge of tears. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you coo. “I think he was just trying to encourage you. But if he made you uncomfortable, I can go down there right now and-”

As you start to shift away, a hand shoots out and latches onto your wrist, snagging you in place. “No,” Jungkook interrupts quickly, before turning sullen again, lifting up his head so that you can just barely see his eyes, gleaming with unshed tears. “Can you just stay with me?”

Reaching forward to cup his cheek and bring his gaze up, you send him your warmest smile. “I’ll stay,” you promise, “want me to help cheer you up? I don’t like seeing my Gukkie so sad.”

His bottom lip quivers as he nods, fingers tightening around your wrist, tugging you back to his side. “Yes, please,” he asks politely, voice still so hesitant as his gaze drops like he’s too shy to meet yours, face pressing into your palm. “Want you to make me feel better.”

Your breath hitches when his eyes dart up, just for a second, and reveal a glimmer that isn’t tears so much as mischief. You realise quickly that perhaps Jungkook is pulling on your heartstrings intentionally, luring you in just like he did the day after the fight, when everyone in the house bent over backwards to give him what he wanted. But you aren’t mad; truth be told, every second that passes, you grow more excited about what’s to come. “Of course I will,” you reply warmly. “Can I give you a kiss, baby?”

One thing you aren’t prepared for as you carefully straddle his lap and press your lips against his is just how differently he kisses when he’s in this submissive frame of mind. You’d associated Jungkook with hunger, fierce passion and need. This Jungkook was needy, but in a very different way. Lips parted, he tilts his chin and lets you take over, his fingers curling tightly in the fabric of your shirt, his long hair tickling against your cheeks.

And unlike the more dominant Jungkook that would kiss you until you couldn’t breathe, the camboy now seems impatient, hips shifting under you and whines leaving his throat as he breaks apart, lips swollen. “Will you fuck me, Y/n? I need you.”

Sucking in a breath, you’re nodding before you’ve even really processed his words. “How do I, uh, what should I-”

“The stuff’s in my nightstand drawer,” Jungkook offers up in explanation. The young man bites his lip, looking positively delectable. In a starch-white t-shirt that simultaneously swamps his figure but exposes his delicate collarbones with the v-neck, and his long locks tucked behind his ears, no imagination is required to see how easily he fits into this subby persona. Even as he’s physically much larger than you, and there’s no hiding his thick thighs and broad shoulders, his expression and posture alone convey plenty. “But, um… Could you- could you help prepare me first? I can if you’re uncomfortable, you know. No pressure.”

“I can,” you assure quickly, standing up when he wriggles meaningfully beneath you. “I mean, I want to. Is it, you know…?” You trail off, watching Jungkook scoot himself back so that his feet don’t quite touch the floor. He tilts his head in confusion. “Clean?” you hiss softly, cheeks flaming.

Jungkook freezes, eyes wide and mouth parted in a small o. “I- Yeah, it’s, uh, clean, I-”

“Sorry,” you grimace, “that totally ruined the mood, didn’t it? I’m new to this.”

“You don’t have to, honestly,” Jungkook says with a small voice, fiddling with the loose threads in the rips of his jeans. “I can do it.”

You’re really fucking this up, huh? “No, no, I want to, it’s fine!”

“I swear, I won’t be offended if it weirds you out-”

Without a pause to think, your lips are moving. “Pants off, Gukkie, I’m going to finger you,” you announce in a firm voice, chin jutting forward in your determination.

You hadn’t even intended to use it as power play, more so just insisting what you were okay with, but his reaction is undeniable. Jungkook visibly melts at your command, eyelids fluttering for a moment and shoulders going lax. Even his socked feet turn inwards, the complete posture of submission. The image of it sends heat through you, and you feel alive with it.

“Th-thank you,” Jungkook stutters, chest hitching. “How do you want me?”

Even though you don’t know the least about fingering or prepping, you’re quickly growing addicted to the way he responds to your authority, so you make a split second decision. “All fours, baby. And clothes off for me.”

Jungkook bites down a whine - how you wish he wouldn’t muffle himself - but obeys quickly, stripping all the way down to his socks, toeing them off hastily before getting on his knees. Clearly a position he’s used to, the camboy wastes no time in presenting himself, upper torso flat against the bed and back arched up to expose himself. With a cheek pressed against the mattress to look back at you, his hair slips over and covers his face.

Before he has the chance to huff, you reach forward and tuck it back behind his ear, tapping your finger once on his nose to make him scrunch it, a toothy grin on his face. “Y/n!” he protests with a hiccupy giggle.

“What?” you ask innocently. “I’m just trying to help out, baby. Can I ask you a favour?”

Jungkook’s grinning so widely that his eyes crinkle. “You’re the dom, Y/n, you don’t need to ask favours, you know?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right,” you muse. It’s so easy to forget that the control is yours, especially when you’re a bit out of your depth. Resolving yourself to be more authoritative, you clear your throat and school your expression. “Mouth open, Gukkie.”

Following your command so quickly that there’s an audible sound, Jungkook braces himself up a little with his forearms so that he can face you better with his jaw wide open and tongue lolled out on his bottom lip.

When you place your first two fingers of your dominant hand on that pretty pink tongue, you don’t even have to command him to suck before he’s wrapping his lips around them and hollowing his cheeks, blinking up at you for approval.

You try and use the past couple weeks of dirty talk from the guys to inspire you when talking to Jungkook, using your other hand to comb the hair back from his face again. “That’s it, baby,” you croon, “nice and wet; soak them for me. What a good boy.”

Keening under your praise, still bent over on his knees, Jungkook swirls his tongue and salivates over your digits diligently. It feels strange; the hot wet cavern, the muscle covering every inch of your skin. Your stomach flips in arousal when you begin to tug your fingers out and he pulls off them with a pop, drool on his chin and pupils blown wide.

“Alright, Gukkie, stay there,” you indicate, holding your spit-slicked fingers aloft as you get on the bed behind him. Cock dangling hard between his legs, he’s hunkered down, heels pressed against his upper thighs. You could easily reach him from here, but there’s something rising within you, an urge to play with him a little rougher.

He jumps and lets out a surprised cry when you rain down your other palm on his asscheek in a swift spank, head falling back to the mattress.

“Did I say you could lie down? Ass up, Gukkie,” you spit sharply, satisfaction curling around your ribs as he lifts his hips without delay, back arching beautifully to present himself once again. A roughly hand-shaped pink flush on his otherwise unblemished skin makes you bite your lip. “Colour?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, fingers fisting the sheets. You fear the worst for a second, but it seems like it just took him a second to comprehend you, because just as soon as the worry rises, he lets out a cute gasp of realisation and spreads his knees further. “Green, so green.”

“Good boy,” you praise, relief clear in your voice. “A single hair out of position without my permission and there’ll be more where that came from.” Though you secretly admit spanking the responsive boy feels good in some odd way, you’d feel a lot better knowing when he’d intentionally stepped out of line, and so giving him a specific avenue assuages some of your potential guilt over the impact play. He seems to understand too, nodding his head sweetly and visibly flexing this thighs to keep steady.

This isn’t usually an angle you’re used to seeing on a guy, but as you gently circle the tight muscle of his rim, you marvel at how Jungkook still makes it look good. Entirely free of hair, ass, thighs and back thick and sculpted, it’s clear the visual is an important thing, especially in his line of work.

You can feel his body go slightly stiff when he holds his breath, but the slightest pressure makes him tremble, his eyes loosely shut as he focuses on pure sensation. Wary of the spit drying off your fingers too soon, you swiftly but smoothly slide your first finger all the way inside of him. There’s resistance up until the first knuckle as he clenches, but once you reach a certain point it’s like his body is letting you in. So tight that you can feel his walls flex, it’s an odd sensation to get used to, but you know from experience that the first intrusion feels odd to receive, too, and that only building up stimulation helps get past it.

For that reason, you don’t pause much before you begin fucking your one finger into him, using your other hand to grasp the flesh of his ass and part him. “Doing so well, baby,” you compliment when Jungkook lets out a guttural, drawn-out whine. Minutely, you feel his hips rock, seeking stimulation in the right place. You know he’s probably aching for his prostate to be touched, but you haven’t the slightest clue on where to find it.

Instead, your next best option is external. Once you draw your first finger out and start to stretch his rim on two, you reach around and under him, hand wrapping around his cock.

Startled, Jungkook goes iron-tight around your two fingers and cries out. You freeze, worried you’ve done something wrong, but he rocks himself back, burying your fingers deeper inside him.

Even in your uncertainty on how to proceed, you know one thing: he’s actively chosen to move out of place.

This time when you drop his length and come back up to spank him, he moans, face going lax and dopey. “Fu-fuck, please,” he breathes, “I’m sorry, I need more.”

“You need more?” you ask, soothing a palm over the reddened skin. “I didn’t realise you were in any position to be making demands, baby.”

Jungkook swallows heavily. “Please give me more, I can take it, please.”

“That’s more like it,” you state proudly, before cringing at how cheesy the words sound to your own ears. Although taking control is fun, you don’t feel as at ease with a filthy tongue like you were used to the others being. Jungkook however, unable to see your reaction, just makes a needy noise in his throat, hotly anticipating your next move.

As you start to move your fingers again, however, they don’t glide like they did before. Unlike a proper lubricant, his saliva has evaporated away, and the dry friction certainly can’t be pleasant.

He’d said the supplies were in his nightstand, but that’s well out of your arm span, so, thinking quickly and not wanting Jungkook to feel uncomfortable, you pull your fingers out gingerly, bend down and spit directly onto his winking hole, some of it disappearing inside as the rest runs down to his balls.

Since he insisted he could take it, you hook three fingers inside him, his hole stretching around you as he groans. There’s so much pressure on your fingers as you plunge inside, the friction aided by your saliva, and you can feel the way he tries to relax himself, clenching periodically.

As much as the spit helped, you become paranoid that it’ll dry out again as you stretch him on your fingers. Still too far from the lube, the thought occurs to you that you could keep him wetter if you just used your mouth.

The thought isn’t entirely unappealing to you. Sure, he doesn’t have the same nerves that make you feel so good when someone goes down on you, but you’re sure he’d enjoy it, and you’re reassured that he’d cleaned himself.

The second your tongue traces his rim, pressing between the tight ring and your knuckles, Jungkook gasps, before letting out a moan so high and keening that you practically salivate.

With your free hand inching around to grip his thigh and steady yourself, you press your chin between his ass cheeks and lap at him, fingers speeding up now that they’re better lubricated.

His hips won’t stay still, but you can’t blame him. From the constant trail of cries and whimpers, there’s no doubt Jungkook is extremely sensitive. Slowly, the thought of stretching him out for a purpose leaves your mind, and you begin to take your time with him, enjoying the feeling and sound of him falling apart from your touch.

You could get used to this; the meaty thighs trembling, the heaving breaths, the moans of your name on his tongue. At one point, your middle finger grazes a slightly protruding spot inside him, a different texture to the rest of his walls. The second it does, he jumps like he’s been electrocuted. Aha.

“Oh, fuck, feels s-so good, please do that again, fuck,” Jungkook babbles hopelessly. Your grip on his thigh quickly morphs from steadying yourself to holding him steady, as he jerks with every repeated stroke of your finger against his prostate.

Unable to respond verbally, you stiffen your tongue and push it deeper inside him as your fingers speed up, all corkscrewing directly towards that sensitive spot.

So noisy that he buries his own face in the blankets, rocking back desperately onto your face and fingers, Jungkook’s pleading and praises are garbled, one long stream of need until he finally lets out one loud, sharp cry and paints the mattress white.

Lifting yourself up to watch him cum, you speed up your fingers to ride him through it, devouring the sight of his red, untouched cock twitching and shooting ropes of cum as his whole body shudders with it.

There’s the undeniable warmth of pride in your chest at watching him cum so beautifully, at hearing and seeing the pleasure you’ve given him. You’d give anything to make him cum at your hands over and over, and in the back of your mind you marvel at how so many things the guys did to you when they dommed you make sense now.

Slowly, he comes back down from his high, chest heaving rhythmically as he catches his breath, going slack. You guide him to roll over onto his back, avoiding the puddle of quickly-cooling cum, and sit beside him brushing back the hair that clings to his sweaty face.

A dopey smile puffing up his cheeks, and eyes hazy, he blinks up at you. “That was so good,” he breathes.

Keeping your voice sweet, you raise a brow. “Do you think we’re done just because you came, Gukkie? I don’t think so.”

His smile falters, eyes regaining some of their clarity. “I- Oh, you didn’t- Do you want me to...?” he trails off, eyes falling down to between your legs, still fully clothed.

Though you’d love for him to make you cum - truth be told, your nerves feel like they’re working doubletime right now, and you know it wouldn’t take much - you shake your head, standing up off the bed. Jungkook whines and sits up slightly as you pull away, but freezes once you begin to undress in front of him.

Unbuttoning your shirt, you feel his eyes follow your movements hungrily. “I never even gave you permission to cum, baby,” you point out. “I also didn’t ask you not to, so I won’t punish you. But you did ask for me to fuck you and make you feel better.” The fabric of your shirt falling to the floor, you leave your bra on and slip off your pants instead. “So I don’t care how sensitive you are or how many times you cum, I’m going to fuck you until you feel so good you cry. Is that understood?”

Where such vulgarity came from you don’t know, but it triggers the right reaction, Jungkook going limp against the bed, grabby hands flexing at the sheets as he nods as quick as he can, one drifting dangerously close to his still half-hard cock. “Please, I wan’ it. Yes.”

“Wait patiently, then,” you command in a cutting tone, discarding your underwear without ceremony, “and no touching.”

He lets out a quiet huff, leg kicking out and hand slipping under his back to stop temptation. You would laugh at the bratty display - or perhaps even punish him for the attitude - but you’re too focused on stepping into the black harness of the strap-on you got from Jungkook’s nightstand, working out how to tighten the straps and sit it right.

It takes you a moment to get right, but it’s surprisingly comfortable once you get it into place - which probably is the point. Though it’s odd feeling weight extending from your pelvis, the dildo is supported by a leather belt-like strap that runs around your waist. Right on the outer line of each hip, adjacent straps run down, under the curve of your ass and connect to the central one that sits between your legs like panties, albeit narrow and stiffer than fabric.

You’d seen ones with a second dildo facing inwards to go inside the wearer as they fucked someone else, but this didn’t have one, so instead your only stimulation was the slight heat when the leather would drag against your swollen clit. Happy to forgo your own pleasure for the sake of pleasuring Jungkook, you reach in the nightstand drawer again to pull out the lube.

Unlike Hoseok’s travel-sized bottle, the base of the drawer is littered with sample size packets of multiple brands. Mixed in with foil condom packets, you spy oil-based lubes, water-based ones, some scented, self-heating, even one that claims to be strawberry flavoured. Reaching for a basic water-based one, you rip it open and use it to slick up the dildo.

Jungkook watches you raptly, hips wiggling against the bed either in impatience or the effort it takes not to touch himself. Hyper-aware of the appendage that dangles in front of you, and how slippery your hands currently are, you imagine hunkering on the bed without using your hands probably isn’t a very sexy look, so instead you stand to the side of the mattress and instruct him to come to you.

He does so with obvious enthusiasm and anticipation. The earlier haze of his orgasm dissipating, his eyes are alert and his lips are stretched in an unconscious grin. Splayed out on his back, legs dangling on either side of your hips, Jungkook looks so content to hand over his dominance to you that your heart swells slightly at the sentiment of it.

Clearly Jungkook isn’t feeling as soft as you. On the contrary, his cock looks so hard it must be physically hurting him, the tip weeping precum onto his belly as he arches his back to entice you. “Please, Y/n,” he whines, hitching a foot up onto the edge of the mattress to bare himself more fully. “Gukkie needs it.”

Though it’s more your own hesitation rather than any desire to make him beg for it, you can’t deny that the sweet entreating voice is music to your ears and core, and pushing aside all worries you find yourself guiding his opposite leg up with a slippery hand, before lining your synthetic cock against Jungkook’s rim.

Immediately, before you even enter him, he keens, and although you can’t literally feel him rocking back towards it, you watch it catch on the muscle and begin to slip inside, and the resistance can be felt as a pressure against your pelvis where the base of the dildo is fastened.

“De-deeper,” Jungkook makes out with a gasp, his fingers reaching up to clutch at your wrist, and you push past the resistance to drive the dildo inside him, slowly but smoothly. His breath hitches, back lifting off the bed as his body tries to process the intrusion, and instinctively - a word you wouldn’t typically associate with domming - you grip onto his waist to hold him still.

Though your palms and fingers are still slick with lube, you manage to keep them steady on his skin by slightly digging your nails in. Jungkook’s mouth parts in a gulped moan, and you feel the pressure in front of your crotch suddenly increase as he stiffens.

“Green?” you check in quickly, so quick to fear the worst.

Jungkook is even quicker to dispel your worries. “Green, fuck, harder, please,” he babbles, shifting as much as he can under you to spread his legs wider in invitation.

You let out a breath of relief but pair it with a snapped thrust to mask it as exertion. Jungkook lets out a cry of pleasure that sounds more like a hiccup, his body rocking on the bed with the force of it.

It’s hard to tell how intense or rough your thrusts are when all you have is his response and the feeling of the leather base pressing against you to go off, so once you start to fuck him in earnest, you’re sure to pay close attention to him.

Not that you’d otherwise be apathetic by any means. Whether his beautiful reactions are a skill learnt from camming or he began camming because of his reactions, you don’t know, but you think watching him like this could never get old.

His hair’s splayed back on the pale grey duvet like a dark halo, red hot streaks highlighting just how long the strands have gotten. His eyes, when he manages to open them, glitter like constellations and plead like puppy eyes. Though he has the bone definition of a god, gravity works against the strong lines and puffs up his cheeks instead, making him look small and sweet.

With lips so pretty and swollen, he pouts and whines and pleads, teeth poking out to nibble at the pinked flesh when the dildo hits his prostate and he muffles a whine.

It takes a surprisingly little amount of time to find a rhythm. Though you’re certainly inexperienced in the art of fucking someone else, it’s really a very natural motion to make your hips rock up against him. Albeit tiring, you find yourself able to pick up the pace until he’s writhing under your hands, his own nails scratching at the meat of his thighs with the restraint it takes not to touch himself.

Taking mercy on the poor thing, you lift one knee up on the bed to give yourself sufficient momentum to drop one of your hands from pinning him down and wrap it instead around his cock, doing your best to time your strokes together.

Jungkook lets out a low keen and goes stiff, back in a violent arch. “Fu-uck,” he cries, and his face would almost look scrunched up in pain if you didn’t know better, the poor camboy overwhelmed by finally being touched there.

“Does that feel good, Gukkie? Am I fucking you good?”

He nods hastily, bottom lip trembling as your thrusts don’t let up for a second. “Suh-so good to Gukkie,” he confirms in a wobbly voice, “please fuck Gukkie harder!”

Quickly tiring, you don’t know if you even can, but you engage your core like it’s a workout and speed up your hips, the insistent rub of the leather over your pussy lips and clit actually beginning to tighten a coil of pleasure low in your belly.

“Yes,” Jungkook wails when he feels the dildo spearing him quicker and quicker. You use your thumb to press at his slit, dripping precum in obscene amounts as he sobs and bucks between your hand and your fake cock.

Once his thighs start to tremble violently and he can’t seem to take in a full breath, you know he’s close. Steeling yourself for the final lap, you ignore the rub of the leather and the pressure of the dildo base against your pelvis, and focus fully on Jungkook and bringing him to a second powerful orgasm.

“Are you close, baby? I wanna see you cum again,” you request, punctuating it with a squeeze of his cock to make him cry out.

Such a polite boy, he composes himself enough to answer. “Baby’s so close,” he whines. “Gukkie can cum?”

You smile fondly even with gritted teeth from exertion, glad his eyes are scrunched shut with pleasure so he can’t see you melt for him. “Gukkie can cum, baby.”

You make good on your promise for him to feel so good he cries when he reaches that high shortly after receiving permission. Tears spilling over his cheeks, his moan comes out strangled but stuttered and airy at the same time, almost like he’s giggling at the feeling that overcomes him. Barely anything comes out of his cock, already milked from the first orgasm, but his body is wracked with sensation and his lips are stretched in a dopey grin, struggling to catch his breath.

If you were a meaner - or fitter - dom perhaps you’d fuck him past the point of oversensitivity, but as it is, you quite happily come to a stop buried deep inside him, lazily stroking his cock as it softens until he hisses at the contact.

Using the duvet to wipe away the last of the lube and cum off your hands, you lean forward and cup this cheeks to brush the tears away and press a kiss to the button of his nose.

He shivers happily, lashes fluttering, and lets out a hum. “Thank you for taking care of Gukkie,” he whispers, before wincing slightly and correcting- “taking care of me. Sorry, I tend to do that when I’m-”

“You don’t have to explain,” you reply easily, kissing each of his cheeks in turn, tasting the salt of his tears as he giggles again at the tickling feeling. “Did you enjoy it, baby?”

Jungkook lets out a breathless chuckle, chest still heaving. “Fuck, like you wouldn’t believe,” he jibes, throwing a hand over his eyes and heated cheeks when you pull away. “But really; thank you.”

You slip the dildo out of him carefully, hearing him make a low noise in his throat as his hole flutters, empty. Rubbing his thigh comfortingly with one hand - if you knew one thing from being on the show, it was that you needed to shower Jungkook in aftercare now - you unfasten the strap-on carefully with your other. “You don’t have to thank me. I had fun too.”

The crook of his elbow lifts just slightly to expose the glint of his eyes, disbelieving. “You did?”

You beam warmly. “Definitely. You’re so fun to play with, Gukkie,” you praise, “plus, I feel like getting a new perspective has been really enlightening, you know?”

“Ah,” he muses, “entertaining and educational. I’m glad my ass served you well.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of your throat; the quip a clear sign that Jungkook is returning from that hazy, contented plane of subspace you’ve grown used to. “Better put that on your CV.”

Jungkook sits up, affronted. Two fat drops of cum run down his stomach, quickly drying out once they spread over his skin. “My ass has been listed on my CV as a skill for years, Y/n, I’m not an amateur.”

“Oh, a professional ass man,” you tease, sighing at the release of pressure once the strap-on harness falls off your hips and to the ground, leaving your lower half bare. “Is that why you got on the show, huh?”

The camboy pouts. “I got on for many reasons,” he insists, “I’m very qualified, you know.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you return immediately, and pause. “Fuck. We were meant to be bantering but I’ve just been complimenting you, haven’t I?”

He nods like it was intentional. “Yet another one of my skills.”

“You’re impossible,” you sigh, but even when he convinces you to join him in the shower, the conversation between you flows without a hitch, and your fondness for the boy only grows.

In retrospect, you probably could’ve worked out Namjoon’s prompt based on how he treats you that dinner.

Subtlety isn’t his strong suit, but you’re so hungry from earlier that you barely notice the signs. It’s not uncommon for the guys to pile food on your plate, but Namjoon’s repeated insistence of feeding you directly perhaps should’ve been the first flag.

The way he fills your glass of water for you, ruffles your hair, continuously calls you little… Yeah, you blame Yoongi’s delicious fish cutlet and rice meal for not paying enough attention.

Luckily for you - or perhaps for him - an opening appears when you’re cleaning up the table with Taehyung and accidentally fumble a small dish of dipping sauce all over your hands and front.

Immediately, Namjoon as at your side, taking the ceramics out of your hand and tsking gently. “Oh, love, that’s no good,” he coos in a low timbre, “you’ve gotten yourself all dirty.”

You could just offer to go rinse your hands off in the sink and change shirts, but you’re wired up from fucking Jungkook without your own release - the camboy was so chipper at dinner that everyone had surely cottoned on - and so a better idea comes to mind. “It’s running down my sleeve,” you offer with a faux pout, “I’ll probably need a shower to get it all off. Care to join me?”

Namjoon’s brows lift as he surreptitiously ensures no one else is in earshot. With a hand on the small of your back, he leans in and presses his lips against your ear. “How about Daddy gives you a bath, baby girl?”

You suck in a breath, nerves alighting. Oh. You can work with this. Straightening up, you latch onto his shirt sleeve near the cuff and soften your eyes. “Only if you take one with me,” you bargain, “I’m only little, Daddy.”

He pulls back quickly, and were it not for the hot flares of lust in his eyes, it would almost seem like he’d been shocked. “Go to your bedroom then, love,” he instructs, “and no running on the stairs.”

Of course you aren’t really an impulsive child but, as it is, his command is actually difficult to follow. The urge to clamber up them as fast as you can, knowing you’re finally going to get fucked good, is hard to suppress.

You manage, however, and soon enough Namjoon’s in the bathroom with you, filling the tub. As you wait, toes wiggling against the cool tile in excitement, he unbuttons his cuff and rolls up the sleeve.

“Okay, clothes off, kitten,” he instructs, hunkering over the edge of the tub to dip a hand in up to the forearm, checking the temperature and stirring up the water, “it’s just about ready.”

You obey, tossing your clothes in a growing pile in the corner. Though it’s no bubble bath, he has drizzled some body wash in to give it a comforting scent, floral and sleepy like ylang ylang. When he pulls his arm out, there’s a ring of suds, and spots of water have already gotten onto his shirt. “You’ve gotta hop in too, Daddy,” you point out, smirking when Namjoon visibly falters at the title.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he confirms, shucking off his shirt and pants, “get in first, kitten, it’s all ready.”

The water is divine, a blooming heat that seeps down to your bones, warming you to the core. You immediately see your skin start to pinken, but the water isn’t unbearably hot, and it’s a pleasant flush.

The heat below contrasts with the cool air on your upper back and shoulders, causing you to shiver, but before you can complain you feel the water level rise, Namjoon’s arms wrapping around you from behind.

As you let him lean you back against his chest, you feel his hardness, but neither of you feel the need to comment on it. This is a porn show, and you’re going to fuck soon, sure, but for now there’s nothing better than a hot bath.

“Give me your hand, let’s clean this sticky sauce up, huh?” It isn’t until Namjoon begins to soap up a loofah and delicately scrub away at the black trails of dipping sauce that have run down your arms that you realise just how fantastic this prompt is. If you played your cards right, Namjoon would take care of you and pamper you all evening, fuck you silly, and then presumably put you to bed like a good Daddy. Holding your hands out obediently, you’re quite content to oblige.

“Sit up, kitten,” the academic commands softly with a press to your shoulder. Once the skin of your arms is unmarred again, Namjoon dips the loofah in the chest-level water, pulls it out dripping suds and water, and laves it over your back, making you sigh at the warmth. “Feels nice, hm?”

Your lips stretch in a lazy smile as you recall asking that very question yourself just earlier today. As much as you had fun domming Jungkook, and wouldn’t be averse to switching things up - quite literally - again, there’s no denying that your soul really sings when you’re the one being taken care of, played with, and pleasured. “Really nice, Daddy.”

The loofah gets dipped again, this time sliding over your chest and stomach. Letting your eyes slip shut at the relaxing treatment, Namjoon’s low timbre washes over you just like the aromatic suds of body wash. “I’m glad,” he coos, “I like taking care of you. You’re too little to do it all yourself, aren’t you? Need Daddy’s help?”

“Too little,” you parrot sleepily, “need Daddy.” With every word, with every touch of his large hands on you, you truly begin to feel little. Curling your toes against the base of the tub, you make a low noise in your throat and lean back against his chest again, head lolling back over his shoulder. “Will you give me a kiss, Daddy?”

He smiles at your entreating plea and wide eyes, eyes like crescent moons as he dips his head and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “All better now?” he checks as he sits the sopping loofah on the side of the bath.

You bite your lip and shake your head. “I’m not all clean yet, Daddy.”

“You aren’t?” he asks with mock surprise, dimple deepening and brows lifting. “Well, that’s no good, is my kitten still dirty somewhere?”

With a single decisive nod, you grab his hand and lead it down until the tips of his fingers brush your folds. “Daddy didn’t clean here, ‘s still dirty.”

You let out a blissful sigh when he cups you, middle finger curling up to barely dip inside you. Namjoon grins. “In here?” Rather than wait for your answer, he smoothly pushes it deeper, massaging at your inner walls. “Alright, kitten, just close your eyes and let Daddy finish cleaning you up.”

A smile graces your lips as your eyes flutter shut again, head comfy in the crook of his neck and shoulder. You could get used to this.

He doesn’t tease you, but nor does he fingerfuck you with intensity or vigor. It’s methodical and diligent, like he really is cleaning you out. One finger quickly becomes two, and his other arm winds around your waist on the other side to roll your sensitive clit, making you moan softly.

Raring to go from unfulfilled pleasure that morning, your nerves go into overdrive, a building wave growing quickly in your belly. When Namjoon adds a third finger, crooking them inside you thoroughly to stroke your g-spot, it takes less than a minute for you to fall apart, thighs clenching tight around his hands.

He works you through it, only stopping when you whimper from oversensitivity, but that doesn’t stop you from whimpering unhappily again when he pulls his fingers out and you’re left empty.

“You’re all clean now, kitten,” Namjoon states, running his palms over your inner thighs to relax them. “Time to get out.”

You sit up suddenly with a pout. “But Daddy!”

Narrowing his brows, you don’t miss the slight twitch of Namjoon’s lips at your sudden outburst. “No buts,” he reproaches, “I don’t want you pruning up.”

You huff, scowling when he deftly tugs out the plug and the water level steadily sinks. “You haven’t even fucked me yet, Da-mmf!”

Namjoon sends you a cutting glare, his strong hand cupped over your mouth. “I should wash your mouth out with soap for using that language, little one,” he warns, “now out of the bath.”

You whine behind his hand, but once he drops it you obey and scramble out of the quickly-draining tub. Your body feels heavier without the buoyancy of water, and you’re dripping onto the bathmat like a drowned rat, but Namjoon pays it no mind, getting out himself with powerful thighs and a heavy cock dangling between them, passing you a towel wordlessly.

You dry yourself off, pout never leaving your face. He’s really just gonna stay hard like that and not fuck you? “Daddy…”

“One more protest and I’m taking you over my knee,” Namjoon says with a sharp tone. “I thought my kitten was better behaved than this.”

You open and close your mouth, unsure how you can get what you want without using vulgar words. Then again, perhaps making him punish you would rile him up enough to fuck you, and you certainly weren’t against some spanking. Sucking a breath in to establish some resolve, you stomp your foot on the bathmat. “You’re so mean, Daddy!”

Namjoon gapes at you, the way you’re bundled in a towel from your chin to your knees, scowling at him. “You want it, don’t you?” he mutters quietly, receiving a small nod in return. Relaxing for a moment, he slips easily back into that position of authority. “That’s it,” he spits, taking you firmly by the wrist and leading you - still naked himself - into your bedroom, “I gave you plenty of warnings but you still won’t listen.”

You squeak as he rips the towel from you and tugs you onto his lap on the edge of the bed. Adjusting you so that your crotch is right above his aching erection, his legs are so long that your toes barely brush on the carpet, all your balance resting on him. This had been the roughest he’d ever been with you, or at least the most domineering, and your mind whirls with how much he’s coming into his element with this prompt.

He gives you no warning before he’s laying his hands on your ass, small pats to warm up the skin before a sudden, stinging strike laces your nerves. You cry out, wriggling in his grip, but he uses one broad hand to link your wrists together in the small of your back, your face pressed onto the mattress as you’re held up fully by him.

He’s carefully merciless, spanking you hard enough that it burns, tears pricking your eyes and lip swollen from when you bite it, but whenever your cries of pain and pleasure turn too much to genuine discomfort, you notice he gives you an extra second of reprieve and swaps out to lighter hits.

“Apologise to Daddy,” he commands gruffly as you sob beneath him, swatting you without pause.

You sniff and swallow before you can compose yourself enough to reply in a wobbly cry, knees buckling and trembling. “Suh-sorry, Daddy, I’m so sorry, I learnt my lesson, ple-ease!”

You could cry when you feel his hand land on you one last time, soft and soothing the stinging flesh. Namjoon shifts, and then you feel light kisses being pressed all the way from your reddened ass up your spine, making you shiver. “Thank you, kitten,” he murmurs in your ear, and gently sits you up, lying you on the mattress.

You hiss when you feel the fabric scratch at your skin, but it’s cool and soothing if you stay still, so you take deep breaths and feel your heart slowly return to normal, Namjoon running his fingers over your now-dry body.

Blinking up at him with what you hope are sweet puppy-dog eyes, you call his name softly to bring his attention to your face. “Are you really not gonna, you know…?”

He grins fondly at your attempt to evade the word fuck, silver hair flopping over his brow as he leans over you. “You took your punishment so well kitten, I think you deserve a reward, hm? Some special time with Daddy?”

You light up, sucking on your lower lip as you spread your legs to bare yourself shamelessly, hooking one foot around his waist so he’s between them. “Extra special time with Daddy,” you insist in a small voice, lip curling now that you’re finally going to get what you want.

With a light laugh, Namjoon centres himself so that he’s facing you head-on, your legs comfortably resting aside his hips. Stroking himself a few times, he taps his hard length against your already-swollen pussy lips. “Relax for me, kitten,” he guides, and you keen as you feel him begin to push inside you.

You try to stop yourself from clenching around him, but it’s been a while since you’ve fucked him, and as usual the biggest cock in the house takes getting used to. “So big, Daddy,” you breathe with a groan, brows pinched together at the stretch.

“You can take it, kitten, you’re doing so well for me,” Namjoon promises, holding you steady and open with a hand hooking your knee up high by his chest.

By the time he’s bottomed out, hips flush against your still-stinging ass, you feel so deliciously full that you can’t breathe. You lay back, eyes scrunched, and focus entirely on the feeling of his girth stretching you open.

“Feels good?” Namjoon checks in, and you nod, wriggling your hips against him to indicate he can move. “Hold on tight, then.”

Even though it’s barely been a day since you were last fucked, it feels like so much longer, and having Namjoon fill you up over and over is so satisfying on a deep level, that you don’t bother muffling your moans, letting yourself clutch at his arms and enjoy the ride.

While Namjoon certainly isn’t the most lithe or experienced member, his cock is a force of nature in and of itself, and this time, with the heat of desperation and the excitement of your altered dynamic getting to him, he fucks you without holding back.

If he’s like this on his third time, you think, he’ll be a beast before the show ends, but then the head of his cock strikes right against your g-spot, and the thought shatters as a cry is ripped from your throat.

“Oh! Daddy, yes, right there!”

He obliges you by adjusting his hips so that every stroke rubs against you just right, and your mind melts, colours and sounds and sensation blurring together in one full note of all-encompassing pleasure.

You cum without warning, not expecting it yourself, and Namjoon curses lowly in his throat as you clench around him. The orgasm is powerful enough to leave you shuddering hopelessly on the bed before going fully slack, drained.

Warm, fuzzy tingles settle in your fingers and toes and chest in the aftermath as Namjoon fucks you through it, not taking long himself to spill inside you. He drops your leg to the side and leans in, pressing slightly ticklish kisses to your neck and collarbone, hands on either side of your chest to keep his weight off you.

“So good to me,” he breathes out lowly, nuzzling your chin up to give him a better angle to sweetly kiss you on the lips, languid and unhurried as he slowly comes down from his own high.

This time when he pulls out of you and you’re left empty again, you don’t complain, too thoroughly fucked to do anything but let out a contented sigh. Namjoon cleans you up, apologising when oversensitivity makes you twitch at the slightest contact, and then washes up himself.

Just as you feel your mind lifting out of that mental space of feeling little, sitting up a bit on his bed and trying to work out if you’d be able to make it to your dresser to put on some pyjamas, Namjoon returns and does it for you, helping you slip into a baggy t-shirt that you like to use as a nightie.

“Are you going to stay?” you ask softly as he lowers the hem over your head, arms slotting through the holes.

“Do you want me to?” Namjoon counters with an edge of hesitation, scratching lightly at his opposite arm, still naked.

You nod, patting the bed beside you. “If you don’t mind.”

Namjoon gathers his clothes and slips them on, not really appropriate for sleeping. Once he sees your look of confusion, he tilts his head towards your bedroom door. “I’m just going to duck out for some comfier clothes for sleeping, are you going to be alright for a moment?”

By the time he’s come back, you’ve already quickly brushed your teeth - hobbling to and from your bathroom like a newborn deer - and slipped under the covers, getting comfortable. Namjoon returns in grey striped pyjama pants and a white shirt, but he has something in his hands.

“You might think it’s silly,” he offers by way of explanation, the mattress springs squeaking as he gets on beside you, “but I like reading before bed, and I thought maybe you’d find it calming.”

With a dubious smile, you look at the book in his hands. It has the clean edges of a cared-for book, with the creases in the spine of a well-read one. On the cover, golden embossed stars and swooping font read The Little Prince. “You want me to read it?”

Namjoon returns your smile, warm and dimpled. “I want to read to you.”

The two of you cuddle together without words, one of his arms wrapped around your back as you lean on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Propping the small novel up on his stomach, he peers over your head to read.

“Once when I was six years old,” he begins, “I saw a magnificent picture in a book called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.” He pauses, tapping you twice on the crown of your head to indicate you should look. “In the book it said…”

As he recites the novel aloud, you feel more than hear his voice, a low rumble in your ear like a rushing river or a slow-moving thunderstorm. It’s soothing, lulling you into sleep. His voice wraps around every word like a hug, enunciating each syllable with such care and colour and love, and always pausing when there were photos, even when your eyes slip shut and you begin to drift off.

Slowly, everything fades away. All sound is reduced to that regular heartbeat and warm rumble; all sensations are narrowed down to just the heat of his skin where it meets yours, his fingers lazily swirling patterns on your scalp. All thoughts simplify, the last six words in your brain, I could get used to this, before they wink out to nothing at all, and you sleep.

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another-emotional-wreck · 3 years

Text

Title: Movie Night

Pairings: None except for a hint of Monica x Peter cause they're cute imo I'm sorry

Summary: Movie night with the Hex trio and Peter... until it's not. Also, metallokinetic Peter.

Warnings: No warnings as far as I know, but there's angst and a decent amount of fluff

Word Count: 2.2k words

Author's Note: This is my first fic for anything Marvel/Xmen related. Kinda nervous but mostly excited. Feedback is really appreciated as there's a pretty good chance a lot some of the character's actions could be pretty ooc.

*******************************************************************

“Wait… what?” Peter asked for what had to have been the millionth time. For a guy who could run fast, it was seriously taking him way too long to get this.

Darcy sighed again. “Alright, so you have to press this button--”

“The little sideways bow thing?”

“Uh, sure, why not. So you press it and then you’re gonna see a lot of different names. The one you’re gonna pick is called ‘Peter’s earbuds’.”

“Okay. Wait how does it know my-- oh wait, it beeped! The lady said it’s… paired? Now what?”

“Now you can pick a song to listen to.” Darcy pressed an icon of a square with a black background and a green circle in the middle. “Anything in particular?”

Peter was silent for a moment. "What do people listen to these days?"

Darcy took the phone from Peter before typing the name of a band into the search bar. His face lit up as Darcy handed it back to him, the screen filled with different songs to choose from. After a moment of scrolling, the opening chords of Dumb by Nirvana filled his ears, and for just a little while, his mind was calm. It was quiet.

“It’s nice to know at least music hasn’t changed since the 80s."

“I wouldn't say that exactly," Darcy mumbled.

Before he could question her statement, Monica spoke up.

"The 80s." She and Jimmy walked through the front door, both carrying grocery bags in their hands. "Is that where you're from?"

Monica placed the groceries on the counter before sitting down on the couch across from Peter.

He squinted at something in the distance. “I think so. I uh…” fuzzy images filled his mind. Laughing at jokes next to a boy with the strangest glasses. Playing in the snow with a woman with red hair. Sharing popcorn in a cold room with a girl with a mohawk and a blue devil.

A serious conversation with a man who meant a lot to him.

Peter winced at the sudden sharp pain behind his eyes. “It’s kinda… kinda hard to sort through.”

“That’s cool,” Darcy shrugged. “I felt the same way during English class back when I was in high school.”

Kurt Cobain’s voice rang in his ears. My heart is broke, but I have some glue. Help me inhale, and mend it with you. Peter nodded his head as he hummed along clumsily, not quite getting the tune right.

Once the pain faded from behind his eyes, Darcy noticed the way Peter’s face seemed to brighten at the sight of a certain someone.

“Guess what!” In less than a second, Peter had moved from his spot next to Darcy onto the couch beside Monica. “Darcy showed me how to get these little pods to play music--”

“They’re called earbuds--”

“And I can listen to whatever I want. How do you feel about this band called Nirvana?” Peter offered an earbud to Monica.

She laughed. “Right now, Jimmy has his heart set on this Lord of the Rings marathon.”

Jimmy shook his head as he took two bags from Monica and placed them all on the counter. “I stand by my claim that Lord of the Rings was and will forever be the best trilogy to ever exist.”

“Sure, Jimmy.” Darcy crossed the room to inspect the groceries. “Popcorn, sherbet, and Sprite? You got orange sherbet?”

Jimmy raised his palms in surrender and pointed at Monica. “Take that up with her.”

“Orange sherbet is the best flavor and, no, I will not be taking any questions.”

Darcy scrunched her nose. “And you’re sure powers were all you got from going through the Hex so many times?”

“You mean aside from having superior taste?” Monica joked. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

*********

“Frodo didn’t deserve Sam,” Monica stated as the movie played on screen.

Shoving another handful of popcorn in his mouth, Jimmy responded. “He was under a lot of pressure! The corruption from the ring only got worse the closer they got to Mordor, so you can’t really blame Frodo for everything.”

Monica wrinkled her nose at the kernels that flew out of his mouth as Jimmy spoke. “Whatever you say. Plus it doesn’t matter cause Darcy’s on my side anyways.”

“You say that as if she didn’t fall asleep the second the movie started,” Jimmy snorted as he gestured to Darcy, who was snoring rather loudly on his shoulder.

Peter chuckled at the banter between the two and at Monica’s annoyed expression, catching her attention.

With Darcy practically on top of Jimmy yet somehow also managing to take up half of the couch, Peter and Monica were seated rather close together.

“Unless you’re laughing at Jimmy, that noise shouldn’t be coming out of your mouth,” she joked, having to turn her head to look Peter in the eye.

“It’s really not my fault that you always seem to be wrong.”

“That’s a lie, actually, but alright.”

“See?” He snorted. “Wrong again.”

Monica glared at Peter who just chuckled and adjusted his position.

After no more than twenty minutes of the movie playing on screen, the sound of Monica snoring told Peter that he and Jimmy were the last two awake.

“They never stay up for my movies,” Jimmy muttered.

Peter turned in his direction. “They never what?”

“We try and do this movie night a couple of times a month. So far, they’ve fallen asleep on every single movie I’ve chosen. I mean that’s obviously just because they don’t appreciate classic media--”

“Right,” Peter mumbled. “That’s why.”

Jimmy paused as he shoveled another handful of popcorn in his mouth. “But I don’t mind it. I mean, everyone’s been back for a little while now, but there’s still this… this underlying fear that it’ll happen again. This nagging feeling that people are gonna be taken away from us, but this time they won’t come back.”

He looked at Darcy, still completely unconscious on Jimmy’s shoulder, and Monica, who was curled up under Peter. “They feel like family” Jimmy admitted. “We haven’t even known each other for that long, but I’d do anything for these two, and I’m comfortable saying they’d do the same for me.”

“I’m happy for all of you, really.” Peter sighed, feeling the clasp on Monica’s necklace dig into his side. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous. I have a few memories--”

Taking a look at the confused look on Jimmy’s face, Peter continued. “Well, you all know that I’m not from here. Wanda just pulled me out of my own time and brought me here. ”

“I mean we know it wasn’t intentional--”

“That’s not the point!” Peter did his best to rein in his anger. “The point is, some random lady took me away from my time. Away from my home, my friends, my family. And I’m not even saying that I blame her, but why did it have to be me?” When Jimmy didn’t respond, Peter continued. “I get these… flashbacks. Fuzzy memories of home. They used to be pretty rare but lately, I’ve been getting them more often. One of them keeps showing up.”

“You think you can try and remember?” Jimmy suggested.

After a moment of silence, Peter decided. “Yeah.” He adjusted Monica so that her head rested on the arm of the couch instead of his side, and something strange happened to his chest at the sight of her sleeping so peacefully.

Jimmy pulled out a notebook and pen. Peter cleared his throat as Jimmy nodded for him to begin, ready to jot down whatever he could.

“It was me, a little girl. An older woman, could’ve been my mother? And--” Peter furrowed his brow as a dull pain began to form behind his eyes and a white noise began ringing in his ears. “Someone… someone else. They, uh-- a man. I think.”

“If you can’t remember who, try to focus on where.”

“No no, I’ve got it. They uh. We--” It was beginning to hurt. “No. Wait. Younger people… friends, they had to be.”

The pain became more intense. The noise in his head was getting louder. It hurt. Different images flashed in his head, all fuzzy and difficult to clear up. His mind reached out to grasp one but just as his fingertips brushed the surface, it was gone.

A patient teacher bound to a wheelchair.

A charming blue devil.

A shapeshifter with a warm heart.

A man who could shake the earth itself.

“They keep moving,” Peter said through gritted teeth. “They… t-they won’t sit still.”

“Alright, man,” Jimmy closed the notebook. “If you need to take a break we can--”

“No! I wanna do this. I need to do this.” Peter’s voice cracked. “I don’t-- I can’t forget them.”

“Okay. Alright, that’s fine but you-- uhh…” Jimmy furrowed his brow at the sight of the pen in his hand beginning to twitch. He took one look at Peter and his eyes grew wide the moment he began to understand. “Peter. Hey, you’ve gotta take a breath. You gotta-- shit.”

Jimmy took in Peter’s current state. Pale and shaky with droplets of sweat forming on his forehead. His eyes wide and panicked. “Uhmm, shit, Monica! Darcy! I really think now would be an appropriate time for the two of you to wake up, given the circumstances.”

As he moved to shake the two women awake, Peter’s struggle grew more intense. The pain had now spread throughout his entire head and turned into a pounding sensation. The noise was deafening as it bounced around in his skull.

Monica woke quickly to see Peter pale and in distress. “Jimmy, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know! We were trying to clear up the memories in his head when he started shaking and--”

“I can see that, but what’s happening?”

“Uhh…. I think stuff is about to start floating…”

Darcy’s eyes fluttered open. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy continued, still trying to wake Darcy. “Cause, my pen was shaking and your necklace is moving a lot, and Darcy, I think your glasses are about to fly off of your face.”

Monica looked down to see her necklace float away from her chest, then watched in what seemed like slow motion as each object Jimmy mentioned flew towards the same source.

Peter.

Seconds later the tv in front of them crumpled in on itself. “That was expensive,” Darcy sighed, now fully awake.

Monica cocked her head, her gaze flickering from Peter to Jimmy to Darcy. “Is he--”

“Yep,” Darcy said loudly

The three sat in awe and terror as Peter sank to the floor in agony, screaming as he drew his knees to his chest. His hands pressed over his ears.

Darcy looked into her kitchen and her eyes grew wide. Locking eyes with Monica and then Jimmy, they all spoke at once. “The knives.”

Monica scrambled to Peter’s side while Darcy and Jimmy ran to get as many knives as they could out of the house.

Darcy turned towards Monica. “You, uh, sure you got this?”

At Monica’s shaky nod, she followed Jimmy into the kitchen.

“Okay,” Monica began. “Peter… I’m gonna, um. I, uh-- okay I actually have no idea what I’m gonna do, but I need you to just, try and, uh, I don’t know, breathe?”

“I can’t.” he panted. The breaths he took were uneven and rapid and his face was stark white. He wasn’t responding to her. “I can’t forget. I-- no, no no I don’t want to forget. They’re slipping. I can’t reach them. Help me.”

She knew he wasn’t going to be able to calm himself down. Monica called the other two in there.

Jimmy ran into the living room first. “We weren’t-- oh.”

Darcy quickly followed. “Holy shit.” she looked at Monica. “You know what to do?”

Monica nodded. “But I haven’t exactly done it before and there’s a good chance I’ll pass out after.”

“I mean, if it means he stops screaming bloody murder, I feel like it’ll be worth it.” Jimmy looked at Darcy with wide eyes, who just shrugged.

“Right,” Monica shook the nerves out of her hands. “Okay. Alright.”

“Y’know, there are still knives and other extremely sharp objects in the kitchen so--”

“I got that, Darcy!” Monica snapped. She took a deep breath before turning all of her attention to the man in front of her. “Okay, Peter? I’m sorry, but none of us have any idea what to do, and so, this was the next best option.”

She closed her eyes and placed both hands to his temple, struggling to keep them there as he twisted in pain. When her eyes opened again, a bright blue shone in place of their usual brown.

His energy came through in tendrils. The super-speed feeling like electricity itself, sharp and cold, while his metallokinesis was slow and warm and heavy. It was new and painful and in that moment Monica understood his pain.

While his powers had come to a pause, his memories were a different matter.

“I gotta keep going,” Monica slurred. Her eyelids were heavy.

“Yeah that’s what we’re not gonna do,” Darcy said.

“He’s still in pain!”

“And now so are you! We can find something to sedate him but, right now, you can’t--”

Monica responded by placing her hands on Peter’s temple once again, this time taking out smaller amounts of energy. Just enough to put him to sleep for a little while.

She then promptly collapsed.

“Energy absorption,” Jimmy stated. “Impressive.”

Darcy sighed. “Please just help me get them to bed.”

“Right. Okay.”

#wandavision #peter maximoff #monica rambeau #jimmy woo #darcy lewis #original work #wandavision fanfic

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nitannichionne · 3 years

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If He Was Your Fan, Chapter 54: Moving Forward (A Henry Cavill Fan Fic)

Chapter 54: Moving Forward

Henry POV

My lips on hers wasn’t enough. Our bodies being this close was still too far.

I crawled forward, gently pushing her back until we were on the floor. I was trying to be gentle, but my body screamed to get inside her and get some release. But my heart was happy to be close, to feel accepted again. I slipped my tongue inside her mouth, gently probing and tasting her, and she opened to me. We moaned together softly, and I gently lowered my body onto hers, my hips nestling between her legs and instinctively grinding against her. I couldn’t help that if I wanted to.

I traced the line of her jaw and nipped her ear, enjoying how her head fell back. Her soft pants were urging me on. I tasted her neck and I felt her body arch to me, her hips moving with mine. I growled, instinctively wanting to take her now, but I needed to take my time. My heart was one way and my body another. I pulled her t-shirt over her head and threw it aside. I unclasped her bra and bit the middle, sliding it down her arms. I almost went into child’s pose pulling it off her, but that gave me the perfect opportunity to curl my fingers into the waistbands of what she had on her lower body and I pulled that down and off, too.

She gasped as I began bathing her with my tongue, long strokes from her neck to her chest, each ending in gentle sucking kisses. She loved those, I knew, and felt my pulse leap as she squirmed. I finally got to her breasts, doing the same, but each kiss ended at her nipple, making her arch and dig her fingers into my upper back and causing an ache that snaked down my spine and into my cock, which twitched and painfully pushed against my pants.

I began to pull my t-shirt off, but then she did the job for me, and I got out of my sweats and kicked off my shoes and socks. “Ah!” We both said it, finally skin to skin and feeling the beginning of relief. Oh, and blessed instinct! My cock knew exactly where to go, what to do. I moved my hips, sliding it between her lips which seemed to open to me. But no, not yet…I moaned as I felt her mouth on my neck, nipping and sucking gently at my jugular. Again I am of two minds.

Make her writhe, Henry, then fuck the hell out of her.

Make love to her, Henry…you both need that.

I went with my instinct. No labels, do what feels right.

I kissed my way down the center of her body and my body tightened as hers squirmed again, reaching for me. Finally, I was there, at her core, and I inhaled a scent that was hers, just hers, and just mine to have. I dragged my tongue up her sex and she whimpered my name. The tension was almost painful in me. I delved deeper and caught her essence on my tongue, and greed overtook me. I closed my mouth over her sex and let my tongue swirl around that already swelling nub that begged for attention. She cried out, but it was breathless and high pitched. The sound vibrated down my spine and I reveled in her raising her hips to me, offering herself to me and inviting more. I pushed my tongue deeper, sucking gently as I withdrew, only to circle that swollen nub and do it again…and again…and again…repeatedly…

Her body writhed as if it was wracked with fever. She was all instinct now, all desire and lust for me to unravel and and get lost in. The ache in my spine eased at the taste of her, the sight of her body moving. Low moans came from her as I tasted her surrender. She squirmed, and I felt her pulse on my tongue. Yes, she needed more, and so did I. I crawled over her and lightly sank my teeth into her neck as I teased her slit with my cock, now swollen with need. I couldn’t wait anymore. I meant to inch in, but became a plunge as instinct took over, answering the tight wet heat I wanted and needed so badly.

“Henry!”

“Uhhh….!” I slowly withdrew, only to plunge deeper. I kept the pace slow, savoring rocking back and forth in her, watching the look on her face. Her eyes were closed as she arched to me, her face a cross between agony and relief.

“Oh, baby…” She whimpered as I began to pump your sex, and I felt that delicious tightness as I stroked her walls, burying myself completely to the hilt, sheathed in heat and feeling her flutter around me. I pounded her steadily, and her body moved with mine helplessly until she screamed, her entire body clasping mine.

Again, oh yes, again. I only slowed to savor for a few moments and kept on. “That’s it, love…like that…you feel so good, darling…so good…”

She whimpered and gasped as I kept riding her. She arched to me and I got deeper penetration.

“Yes…yes…I love it when you quiver like that!” I panted, my cock swelling against her walls. It was delicious, feeling my climax travel within me as hers was building, flowing and ebbing over and over. I moaned her name, licking my lips which were dry in anticipation.

“I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”

“Yes, yes…”

She came, her body clenching around me as she gave a high pitched moan, and my head fell back as I bucked uncontrollably, letting instinct take over completely as I rode her to my climax, hard thrusts giving way to pulsing spurts in response to her gushes of surrender. I felt like it would go forever, like I’d saved it all.

My ending thrust left me embedded deep within her, twitching and still delivering spasms of relief. She cried out softly, her body still clasping me, her sex still pulsing around me in aftermath. We laid there, holding each other and kissing, riding it out. But I felt it: I wanted more. As powerful and intense as that was, I wanted more.

*****

“Henry?” you call weakly as he gently pulls out of you. He kisses your forehead, your eyes and nose before lifting you in his arms effortlessly. He was stronger now…maybe hungrier, too?

He looks down at you. Oh, no, he isn’t done with you, you realize.

He carries you up the steps and lays you on the bed, but he turns you over to your stomach and pulls you to our hands and knees. You feel the heat of his body at your back, kisses on your neck and shoulder as his hands stroke your sides. Your breathing is shallow with anticipation, your body is warmed again by his kisses, his touch. He teases you with his meatus, drawing it up and down your slit, and you you’re your wetness flow again in response.

“Ah!” You cry out softly as he pushes in partially. He works himself in deeper with each thrust and you close your eyes, seeing it happening in your mind. Your body clenches around him and you move your hips, coaxing him to harden and lengthen, thicken inside you, b stay inside you.

You feel his hand gently grasp your shoulder, the other your hip. You lick your lips and bite the lower one as he pounds you steadily. Oh, God, this is sooo good…. When he feel you start to climax, he eases his control and hold, allowing you to rock against him. You can hear his growls and moans, feel him throb inside you, which only makes you squirm for more. Your bodies keep feeding off one another, each climax building toward the next. You are slightly chilled by the sweat building on your back, but warmed every time he surges within you. He’s rutting you and all you can do is moan helplessly. He is in control, but you love it.

You release high pitched scream ending in a moan, panting a release that ends several thrusts later, but then happens again as you feel his cock thicken at the pit of your stomach, stabbing your cervix as his thrusts become short and tight and his hands brace your hips to keep you in place as he buries himself to the hilt repeatedly. You lose all control, your hips twerking to get more of him, to feel every swollen inch, every vein that throbs against your walls. You feel like you’re in heat, and he is the only cure, the only relief to have. You arch swaying back and forth as his hold becomes tight.

“Fuck, baby!” he pants out, then groans, “I’m coming...” His cry and long and deep and his thrusts become the same as he pumps and spills his life into you. He is virile; his seed is much, coating your walls as his hips snap and jerk in and out in release. “Uhhhh….” He sounds as if he is agony, but his release brings pleasure and pain. You arch again, the sensations creating another wave of orgasm and he grinds into you, milking cries out of you as you flood and pulse around him. He leans over you, holding you close and warming you as the waves come back and forth until you both collapse, still panting as the storms within you subside. The hair on his chest tickles your back as his lungs expand and contract against your back, almost in unison with your own breathing.

He falls to his side, taking you with him and keeping a hold on your hip and successfully staying inside you. He kisses your shoulder gently, and pulls the covers over you both as he adds his own arms and a well placed leg for good measure. You giggle at that.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”

@mistress-of-ward @nuggsmum @messyinsomnimaniac @jencanbeyouryengeralt @sweetdreamsofgelato @mary-ann84 @omgkatinka @the-soot-sprite @viking-raider @keanureevesisbae @henryobsessed @summersong69 @sunshine96love @michelehansel @thelastsock @tumblnewby @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocks @daydreamin83 @ruthoakenshield @musicartmayheminmyheart @kaatelyynn-blog-blog@forallthebrokenheartedthings @alphacancrii @liquorlaughslove @designerwriterchic @tamychm @nikkilynn303 @circesgirl1 @xoxohannahlee @pixie88@fckdeusername @maan24 @kaatelyyynn @october505 @absentmindr @introvertedmouse @sassy-pelican @griscka75

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #august walker #captain syverson #clark kent #geralt #sherlock #superman #walter marshal #will shaw #witcher

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thran-duils · 3 years

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Use All of Me (P.8)

Title: Use All Of Me (Part Eight) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The Avengers are heroes saving the world but in this AU, they are also permitted by the powers in charge to have less than favorable business underneath their guise of mere superheroes. Steve and Tony are at the helm, keeping their empire’s wealth in check, both devious and perilous if crossed. Steve takes a liking to the reader at a party and it may be her undoing to her autonomy choosing to go home with him. Words: 3,716 Warnings: Dark AF, angst, emotional/mental abuse, smut, breeding, death

Part Seven || Part Nine || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Steve had not come to bed. Your shower was slow, knowing there was nothing to rush for. You stayed in longer than necessary, basking in the warmth and taking time to lather your skin up with the soothing shower gel. More than once, your fingers fluttered over your nipples, eliciting soft sighs. You were restless and hoping the warm water would calm you down.

After getting out, you dried off, throwing on a light-yellow summer dress before using the blow dryer after.

On your way down, you checked at Steve’s study. The door was open and the room was empty. Maybe he was eating breakfast. When you walked into the kitchen, it was past 8:00am. Patricia was finishing putting away a plate of breakfast food and you apologized her. She waved you off, taking it back out of the fridge and placing it in the microwave.

“Have you seen Steve?” you asked, sitting at the island.

“He was gone when I got here, ma’am,” Patricia told you.

So, he had left before 7:00am.

When she placed the food in front of you, you smiled at her. “You used the mashed potatoes.”

“Was I not supposed to?” she asked worriedly.

You gave a quick laugh, “Yes, that was what I was hoping. I had thought I would be up earlier so I could let you know I made them last night for potato cakes in the morning. It’s like you read my mind.”

She looked pleased with this comment and nodded. “Do you want fruit?”

“Yes, please. Strawberries.”

The rest of the day was slow, you trying to focus on reading your book but your mind kept drifting back to the disappointed look on Steve’s face whenever you had made eye contact with him last night during dinner. He kept up appearances for everyone else, joining in the overzealous toast from Thor, blessing your soon to be ‘babes’ and accepting congratulations from everyone. But he had been upset with you and it had unexpectedly made you feel ashamed. You missed his touch last night.

His touch.

You imagined his hands slipping up your thighs, gently pushing your legs apart. His fingers creeping underneath your underwear, delving in—

You shook the thought from your head, trying to focus harder on the words on the page.

But—

His nose nuzzling along your abdomen, laying soft kisses as he worked—

You slammed your book close. There was no way you were going to be able to focus on this when you were getting this riled up. You were horny. That was the bottom line. You had felt it in the shower earlier and you should have given in and done it in there where it was private, and you could easily clean up.

When would Steve be home?

<> <> <>

His footsteps echoed through the entrance hall after the front door closed and you practically hopped off the couch to go intercept him before he could disappear into his study again. You skidded into the entrance hall, only stumbling slightly as your socks hit the marble.

Steve was already halfway up one of the staircases when he stopped and made to come back down, worry on his face seeing you stumble. He stilled when you balanced yourself.

“Be careful, Y/N,” he told you sternly. He turned to continue up the stairs.

“Wait,” you blurted, and he stopped again to look at you. “Are… are you going to talk to me?”

Steve said nothing and you were having trouble deciphering what he was feeling or thinking.

“At all?” you added quietly.

He licked his bottom lip, looking thoughtful. “Come upstairs.”

You followed him up, trying to keep a normal pace, and not see so eager. He led you to his study, closing the door behind you. You had only been in here a couple of times, avoiding it out of his request to not mess around in here. It was tidy but you knew there were things hidden; weapons and such that he did not want you to find.

Steve came to your side, peering down his nose at you. He was waiting for you to say something.

“You’re mad at me,” you finally said lamely.

“I’m disappointed,” Steve corrected. Disappointed always felt worse than angry, and you fought to keep eye contact. “I asked you specifically to be ready.”

“I was ready. I may not have done my makeup—”

“I’m not talking about that, Y/N. I meant to be with everyone. You were slaving away in the kitchen instead of spending time with everyone.”

“I’m sorry,” you said thickly.

“You made your choice.”

“I… I just wanted to cook.”

“Then cook for me. That’s completely fine. But when we are having people over, I want you to be with me. I want you to be with them. It feels like you were trying to hide yourself away.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I’m having a hard time believing you.”

You had prepared this excuse and executed the delivery perfect, “I was taught when people come to your house, you’re supposed to be a hostess. And that’s what I did.” Steve was quiet, taking that in. You shrugged, adding, “So, I’m sorry. Really.” Another pause, gauging his reaction. He was not budging, still silent. Giving a defeated sigh, you said, “I don’t want you to keep shutting me out because of it. But if you still need time, I guess I’ll just deal then.”

You took a step towards the door and Steve stopped you, pulling you back in front of him. His eyes raked over you, trying to see how genuine you were. He must have been satisfied with your answer because he said sincerely, “Thank you for explaining yourself. It gives me a better perspective.”

“Well, I would’ve last night but you left me by myself,” you muttered, eyes downcast.

“I was upset.”

“I know.”

“In the future, please, leave it to Patricia. You don’t have to wait on people hand and feet, especially pregnant. We have her for a reason. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said, nodding in approval. You leaned into his touch when he placed his hand on the side of your face. The corners of his lips upturned into a soft smile. “You are darling, you know that?” His eyes trailed down, eyeing the low collar of your dress, and one of his hands followed his gaze, coming to rest at your hips, the other at your cheek. You ever so slightly rolled your hips towards him at the firm grip and he murmured, “I heard your sex drive can really amp up in the second trimester.” You blushed, and he smirked, feeling the warmth he brought there. “I am sure being alone really did leave you wanting.”

He was reading you like a book.

��Would you like me to do something about it?” he asked quietly.

Your hands rested on his chest and you nodded, much to his approval. Turning, he led you a bookcase along the wall and touched a book on it and you stared in awe as it popped open; it was a hidden door. He led you through it, and it led into his walk in closet. His lips found yours again and he pressed you further into the closet, closer to the bedroom. Your foot hit the plush chaise and he noticed.

“Lay back,” he ordered, his eyes blown wide with lust.

You rested against the back and arm, settled in the pillows as he pushed your dress up. His fingers hooked underneath the band of your underwear, tearing them down your legs. He laid sloppy kisses up the inside of your thigh. Tongue flat and wide, he licked up your pussy, making you shiver. He hummed in approval the reverberations adding to the sensation. His lips trailed up onto your stomach, peppering kisses around your middle.

Sitting up quickly – causing Steve to pause, looking at you with challenge, as if he thought you were trying to stop – you tore the dress over your head, undoing your bra and tossing it aside. Steve grinned when he realized what you wanted, and he obliged. His mouth was hot and wet on your quickly hardening nipples. You were so sensitive, even more so than normal. He bit down ever so slightly, and you keened, your hands groping at his shoulders.

“My gorgeous little doll,” he growled, moving to shove his jeans down. Your hands went up his sweater and he tore that off as well.

One leg hanging off, Steve plummeted in between your legs. You moaned, your fingernails digging into his forearms planted on either side of you.

“You’ll listen when I tell you to do something?” he husked, nipping at your ear. You nodded and he nipped harder. “Say it, Y/N!”

“Yes, I’ll listen,” you gasped in response to his fingers pinching at your erect nipple. “I promise!”

Your declaration was enough to get his hips snapping, your orgasm quickly following, and him subsequently. Steve’s kisses were bruising along your jawline, savoring the taste of you as he rode out his high. Your legs still trembled as you held him close, inhaling his scent deeply.

In the moments following passion, it was easy to forget the cage he kept you in.

<> <> <>

A few days later, you were unable to find him inside. He had not left the house; it was the weekend. He was staying home, he had told you so. You searched the rooms for him and then spotted him out on the patio, seated at the table beneath the large cover, bent over papers. Bryce was seated a few seats away, scouring over documents as well. You thought to grab a pitcher of water and a couple glasses. You grabbed a Sprite, slipping it into the pocket of your dress before gathering everything else.

Walking out the door, the wind swept through gently, tugging at the hem of your dress.

He heard you approaching and looked over his shoulder. You held up the pitcher, cradling the glasses. “Water?” you asked him.

Steve nodded, “Yeah, that’d be perfect. You should have some too.”

“Oh, this glass is for Bryce…” you said trailing off, waiting to see his reaction.

“Well, have some when you go inside then,” Steve replied and you nodded, pouring them both a glass. Bryce thanked you when you handed it to him.

He was examining a multi-page document with upmost attention. One hand was resting on his thigh, leaning forward as he peered over the document.

Pulling the Sprite from your pocket, you asked, “What’s that?”

Steve reacted to hearing you open the pop and eyed the can in your hand. “You’re gonna need to stop drinking those. Dr. Kamal said caffeine can affect your blood pressure and that’s important to regulate during pregnancy. Plus, it might affect the babies.”

“…There’s no caffeine in Sprite, Steve,” you told him slowly.

He obviously did not know that and you informing him of that did not seem to go over well based off the way he looked at you unamused. He pressed, “Regardless, you are going to change your diet, which includes anything that has caffeine in it. And Sprite does have a lot of sugar and that can lead to more weight gain. She says here,” he gestured at the document. “You could gain up to 50 pounds. That’s a lot of stress on your body. You don’t want to be adding any more if you can help it. I’d prefer if you didn’t gain that much. It would be hard to lose it and then just gain it again for the next one.”

Next one?

“We haven’t even had the first two,” you laughed nervously.

He sat up straight, his hand leaving the paperwork. “We’ll have five or six. Like I said, it’s going to be a toll on your body.”

“No shit,” you blurted without thinking and he cocked his head, looking at you in irritation now. You cleared your throat. “Trust me, I don’t want to be gaining 50 pounds,” you told him, holding your can of Sprite a little tighter. His gaze flicked to it and you said quickly, “Can I just finish this one? Please?”

“You’re already drinking it,” Steve sighed, looking back down and turning the page. “I’ll take the rest of the case to the compound and put it in the fridge there.” Your mouth set into a thin line which went unnoticed by him. “I’m gonna have a nutritionist set up a meal plan for you and give it to Patricia.”

“Where did you get this information? Is Bryce looking at it too?”

“No, I’m looking at—” Bryce started to say but Steve cut him off, without looking up, “No, he’s not. He’s looking at a file for work.”

Continuing, Steve said, “She said to contact her if we had any follow up questions after the appointment. I didn’t think to ask because… well, you know,” he said, his eyebrows raising. Right. How you had reacted to the news. “She sent me over information about your health during pregnancy.” He met your eyes now, “And I want you to do as it says.”

“What if I get a craving? Some women start craving the hell out of pickles. Or ice cream.”

“I think you’re craving lemons.” Your brow furrowed and he asked, “Would you disagree?”

“I…” you said trailing off, thinking about it.

“Do you usually drink as much lemon water as you are? You always request them when Patricia goes for the weekly groceries and I have yet to see that citrus juicer leave the counter because you are constantly refilling your water and putting lemon in it.”

How had you not recognized that yourself? You had drunk lemon water before – but mostly at restaurants. It calmed you down when you had it.

“Apparently you didn’t notice,” Steve said, seeing the realization on your face. “Just keep using that straw so you avoid really hurting your teeth with the acid.”

He was looking down again and you scowled at him, knowing he would not see. But then you saw Bryce looking at you, his expression unreadable. You quickly dropped the attitude and took another drink of your Sprite, savoring the taste since it seemed to be your last for quite some time. Especially if Steve was expecting to have you pregnant for the next decade it sounded like.

Something tugged at you and you followed the feeling, looking back up at Bryce. He was still studying you. He gave you the smallest of smiles, looking sad… no… like he was pitying you.

You filed that away for later.

<> <> <>

You sat on that interaction for days, wondering if you should take the leap. He had heard the whole conversation between you and Steve regarding how he was going to start controlling your diet completely and he essentially was going to breed you. Even knowing that though, you still found yourself searching out his attention. You hated how much you craved his touch too – it was a relief every time he got you to come. Your hormones were flying and having him get you off seemed to be the key to quelling all the anxiety.

It was too much. You were taking that leap. Steve was out of the house.

Walking barefoot out in the grass, you crossed your arms over your ever growing stomach. It was true, at four months you were starting to show and it was going to only get bigger – and quickly with twins –, rendering you more dependent on others for some daily tasks. It was already becoming more difficult to bend over, you trembled thinking about yourself at six or nine months along.

Bryce was walking across the lawn from the shop and you moved quickly to go over to where he was.

“Can I talk to you?” you called out. He stopped, facing you. You gestured, “Not right here.” His gaze was skeptical, but he followed you all the same. You moved to stand at the corner of the house, hopefully mostly out of the way of the outdoor cameras, but you doubted there was anywhere on the property without at least some line of sight.

“Is something wrong?” Bryce asked.

You studied him, gauging how to start. You were basing a lot of assumption about his viewpoint off of one look. But you had little else to go on. You swallowed sharply before saying in a fairly low volume, “I am going out on a limb here… but I need your help.”

“With what?”

“I need to leave.”

Bryce’s lips parted in surprise at your bluntness. He recovered quickly, countering, “How do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

He shook his head, “You cannot ask me to help you with that. You’re lucky I don’t tell Mr. Rogers you even brought it up.”

He began to walk away. You reached out to grasp his arm. “Please!” you pleaded. “I don’t want to be here anymore. Steve… he’s changed.”

Bryce was at least staying to hear you out. Your hand fell from his arm as he told you sternly, “He’s always been like this. Nothing has changed.”

“Well, he was dishonest with me then. He acted… sweet.”

“Has he not been sweet to you? Just yesterday afternoon he seemed very sweet, if you don’t mind me saying. He seems to be quite smitten, ma’am.”

“I don’t doubt his affection,” you said. “But c-can’t you see he’s keeping me locked away?”

Bryce was quiet, his gaze turned away from you, his eyes somewhere else along the greenery of the lawn’s edge. You stayed quiet, letting him gather his thoughts. When he finally spoke, he said quietly, “Do you understand what he could do to you?”

“What? Kill me? Perfect,” you said sarcastically.

“I don’t think he would kill you, miss,” Bryce said solemnly, locking eyes with you.

You stiffened at that.

The longer the two of you spoke the more chance Steve would be looking in the cameras for the pair of you. And if he located you, who knew how much he could pick up if he had mics? It was illegal for security cameras to have audio recording, but this was his personal house, not some store.

Bryce stepped closer, “Even if I could help you, I wouldn’t.” Your face fell and he shook his head. “It would be very short lived, this grand escape you think you can pull off. You know how expansive Mr. Stark’s technology can reach. You would have the whole Avenger team looking for you. Where in the world do you think you could possibly hide? It would be a suicide mission to help you escape.”

He was not helping because of his loyalty. He was not helping because he believed it to be wasted effort and would have a terrible ending. How could you argue with that?

“You… he will take care of you. He cherishes you. Coddles you even.”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed upset. “I don’t need to be coddled. I... If you won’t help me, then I’ll just do it myself.”

It was Bryce’s turn to grasp your arm and plead, “Don’t do that. Please!” You said nothing, your face stony. He cursed under his breath and hissed, “If you are serious about it, then I’ll tell him. You can see it as a betrayal of trust, but I am trying to protect you. Staying here and finding comfort in what you have pales in comparison to when – not if, WHEN – you’re brought back, and you try to build trust again. It won’t happen. Mr. Rogers won’t allow you to do anything. You think you feel trapped now? Please. I implore you to be objective about this. Be smart.”

Wind was leaving your sails and you let it show. If he was true about telling Steve about the conversation, you needed him to think you had been discouraged from it. That would keep it secret and allow you to find – hopefully – another avenue to escape through.

“Fine,” you said stiffly, tears pricking your eyes. “At least I can still see my friends here.”

Tearing your arm from his grasp, you walked away from him, holding yourself.

Apparently, you were on your own. You could not in good faith put your friends in danger by involving them. Steve would go to them anyway, but they would not know a thing and he would have no proof they knew anything because it would not exist.

You could not fly. That would be one of the first and obvious places for them to check. You could not drive, at least not far. Steve had his phones hooked up to both of his cars and the blue tooth would be able to track the car’s location wherever you went. Which also meant you could not take your phone, putting you at more risk to be able to call for help if something happened.

Something came to mind. A train. You could not google anything on your phone or any of the laptops though. You would be going in blind to the station. But you would be on camera there too at the ticket booth. It would be easy for Steve to get a ticket booth worker to talk and tell him which route you had taken.

You could steal someone’s ticket; it didn’t matter where. And in return, leave them an envelope with cash in its place as an apology. You would need a light coat with a hood. It was almost September, the weather still way too hot for anything heavy. The light coat might even be too much, but what was a little sweat? Plus, it would help to cover your bump. You could leave Steve’s car at Grand Central – dispose of the key somewhere nearby. It would be a little bit of a walk, but you could walk to Penn Station. The Amtrak was there to get you out of the city. There was also shopping inside where you could buy said coat – you did not want to risk taking anything from here, it would be too easily recognizable.

A train. You felt hope bubbling inside at the prospect.

~~~

Tags: @imsonick , @alexakeyloveloki, @kvzctam, @ironlady1993, @taintedgenre, @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #marvel fic #dark marvel fic #my shit

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softkuna · 3 years

Text

Yuuji Itadori || Training

Content ║ Yuuji Itadori x Reader. You and Yuuji train quite often and like to make a competition out of it. However, his quick learning and your insecurities get the best of you.

Count ║ 1,514 words.

Consider ║ Fluff. Fighting. Probably grammatical errors.

Creator ║ Aight! First little drabble up. Hope you guys like it! It’s not nsfw but I was feeling fluffy and Yuuji is a literal sunshine child. Also, whenever I write for the students, I automatically have it be that Jujutsu Tech is a college rather than a high school and everyone is over the age of 18.

“Sir, we’re surrounded!”

“That just means we can attack in all directions!”

A smug smirk tugged the corners of your lips, “I mean… you’re not wrong, Yuu.” The boy gave an overly enthusiastic thumbs up, pearly white on full display. Training with him was always a delight.

You were back to back, crouched in a way that your back right foot was slipped between his wide stance. You made a few enemies from ink, letting them drench the field’s grass in black gel. Five human-sized creatures were your limit after training for what seemed like years. No one needed to know they were the shapes that haunted you at night, paralyzed with fear as they came from all corners of you bedroom. That fear is what strengthened them. You channeled it into them, strengthening the cursed energy behind the specialized ink.

Right now, they were just npcs in a videogame to the two of you, “These ones are 3 points, right?” Yuuji looked over his shoulder at you and you nodded. Training with him was always a game. Human-sized blobs were three points. Child-sized ones were two. Rabbit-sized ones were one. Anything larger went up by every two feet of height. So far, he somehow managed to kick your ass every time. Today would be the day you showed him up. Maki had shown you a few decent moves and like hell you’d let him trample over your personal best with this up your sleeve!

With a springboard hop forward, he drew back a fist, “I’m gonna kick you’re ass!”

“Oh like hell-“ You bent back at the knees, left hand keeping your back from fully colliding into the ground. An ink blob came right for your neck, swiping dangerously had you not ducked, “OI, play fair!” Both palms planted into the blades of grass, balancing you as your legs vaulted upwards. The tip of your tattered sneaker connected crisply with its lower ‘jaw’. The shoe had swept through the inken mandible, triggering the creation to melt to the earth. As the handspring flowed through, you recollected yourself on both feet only to propel forward at the next targets.

Alas, there were only two by the time you had gotten through your first. Yuuji was always fast. Faster than a goddamn car, too. Exceptional physical prowess was presented with each corded muscle before he had even eaten the first few fingers. Rumors from his high school years didn’t fail him once, not even here amongst elite Shamans. It was something you always admired and envied about him. Your own form had been delicate, feminine, and rather weak. Some rumored it to be a heavenly restriction in exchange for your expert control over your Ink Children. You refused to believe that, however. Like hell you’d allow yourself to be restricted like that.

A pout found its way onto your lips as you ducked another straight punch from the last standing enemy. As you swung your punch, a fist made its way to you first, kissing the space between it and your nose. With barely enough time to dodge, you managed to slip to the side, arm hooking into the one that had aimed for your face. Ink exploded onto your clothes and face. Some splattered into your open mouth, triggering a coughing fit. Your shoulder ripped backward as you were practically hauled into a spin with the aggressor’s arm still linked with yours at the elbows. One of you lost stable footing. Your heart squeezed at the impact of dense earth hitting spine, followed by Yuuji landing directly onto your chest with a resounding, “WOAH!” He popped up, forearms caging you in at either side of your head, mouth sputtering apologies, “Didn’t even see you behind that thing! Are you okay?”

Your eyes blazed against his with explosive fury. Words ripped from your throat before thought could come before it, “Yuuji, what the fuck was that?!”

“I wanted to get the last point!” The goof-ball grin sloppily made its way to his cheeks. The world still spun around him as it always did with you. It wasn’t until you spoke again that the grin slipped down, dragging away any semblance of pride with it.

“You were already nine points ahead!” A pout made accompanied averting eyes. Chin nudged to the side to emphasize the massacre of ink littering against the ground, “You couldn’t have saved me the last one?! C’mon man.” You knew it was irrational to cut into him for something so silly. It was just training. He knew how much this meant to you, though, how hard you had to work to even take the impact just now.

Yuuji’s mouth opened the slightest, guilt trickling into his chest like a steady faucet. Whoops. You had always been competitive. Much more competitive than Nobara, even, and temper to match it, too. A large hand came to rustle the back of his hair, moving to scratched his temple, “Sorry. I got caught up in it. And…” Rose crept up subtly to his cheeks and ears to match his rose colored locks, “I wanted to impress you.”

Your head snapped back into place, locking hues with his honey-browns, “Wha-“

“You always make such strong opponents to fight against! I wasn’t even able to hit one last week!” His brows lowered slightly, lips jutting in their own embarrassed pucker, “Just wanna show you I’m strong too. How else am I supposed to protect you?” The sentence trailed out in a grumble, gaze meandering to the space next to your cheek rather than maintaining the kerosene-lit gaze of yours.

A warmth crept up your own cheeks, lips slightly parted in surprise. Really, you shouldn’t be shocked by this. He was always considerate of your safety. The sheer concept that it displayed during something as inconsequential as training was the bolded punctuation mark to his statement. You hated to admit it but, it made your heart flutter in its boned cage.

He wasn’t your stereotypical muscle head (despite that being your first impression of him.) He didn’t look down on you like the men in your family did for being physically weak. In fact, Yuuji looked up to you. He acknowledged your strengths and hard work. For the hours of grueling training to even be able to move the way you did, the boy made it a point to come out and watch you. Yuuji saw how you overcame challenge after challenge. It dowsed gasoline on the fire lit under his ass. Even when it seemed like he was selfishly destroying your own target, he simply was trying to meet your bar of approval. He admired your strength, your graceful movement, your technique, and most importantly he admired you.

“Yuuji,” You began, voice softening from its resin casing, “You don’t need to protect me. I just…” Your hands moved from their crossed position to your cheeks. Eyes fluttered shut briefly before opening again, “I just want to be stronger physically is all. I don’t want to feel like you have to protect me every time we go on a mission because of these noodle arms,” To drive the point home, you wiggled your arms beside his head before lazily resting them at his shoulders, “How the hell’s that fair, huh? Can’t a girl protect herself, Mr. Knight-in-Hooded-Armor?” You playfully stretched his cheeks, tugging the goober’s mouth this way and that, “’sides, you beat my ink kids way too quickly this time! I gotta step up my game.”

A sunshine laugh beamed from the boy above you. His hand swatted yours away, “Alright, alright! It’s almost like I like you or somethin’!” He dipped down, nuzzling your noses together. The way his lashes dipped as his lips connected with yours was transfixing. Why did boys always have the prettiest eyelashes? Why did they have the softest lips? You leaned into him, hands clasping behind his neck and locking him in place. A content hum harmonized between the two.

It was a moment you wished to last forever. The warmth of his sprite-flavored Chapstick slid against your teeth-bitten lips. One calloused hand cradled the side of your neck, thumb stroking the pink lingering on your cheekbone. He was so delicate and careful with you, yet somehow so sure in each touch and movement that it left you breathless every time. No matter how strong you were, he had an ability to make you weak for him every. Single. Time.

Bonus:

The thonk of a used paper towel roll whacking a cardboard box broke the sweet moment apart. Yuuji shoved his face into your neck with a puppy-like yelp before ripping up like an angered Pomeranian, “WHAT WAS THAT FOR, NOBARA?!”

“Maybe if you weren’t sucking face on the training field-!” The two growled at one another. The only thing tearing away their standoff was your shrill cackle. In comedic synchronicity, the two shouted, “What?!”

“D-did you hear the sound h-h-,” Words barely escaped your lips, chest heaving with each labored cry-laugh, “His head made! Yuuji! Oh my god you’re a basketball!”

#☄️.fic #☄️#🍺#🍺.fic #jujutsu kaisen #itadori yuuji #yuuji itadori #yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #yuuji x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #how many tags do I use?#them all? okay

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pixxiesdust · 4 years

Text

Favored by Fate • Dabi

Summary • Your boss has a business meeting at the annual fall festival, and you’re lucky that he’s given you the night off to explore on your own. Running into a masked stranger was not part of your plans for the evening, but it turns out the two of you share a common goal, and you can work together to reach it. Maybe fate is on your side.

Pairing • Dragon!Dabi (Todoroki Touya) x Water Sprite!Reader

Word Count • 8.7k

Tags and Warnings • Suggestive situations and dialogue, modern fantasy au, talk about murder, kissing, swearing, Dabi is Todoroki Touya, Todoroki Enji is not a good person in this fic.

Note • This is my part of the Attack on Academia’s Fall Festival collab! I had a lot of fun writing this, especially during sprints with wonderful friends haha. If you like this fic, please consider checking out the other Fall Festival fics written by members of AoA! If you’d like to join our server, feel free to join through the invite link on this post. New members are always welcome! Finally, I’d like to thank the wonderful @wakaoujisenhime and @prismaroyal for betaing this fic for me!

–

This annual fall festival is the largest one on the continent, so it’s no wonder that thousands of creatures congregate under the light of the full moon to celebrate the peak of the fall season.

High elves peruse the high-end stalls with ridiculously priced wares that suit their more expensive tastes. They try out weapons embedded with precious stones, made of the strongest metal alloys. Some buy the purest potion ingredients, sliding gold coins over the stall counter to the merchants, or swiping black credit cards across card readers.

A coven of witches stop by a candy stall on your right, pulling out their phones to record as the merchant—a fire wielder whose hands are glowing with red—drizzles melted caramel in elaborate swirls onto wooden skewers. As soon as the caramel leaves the metal bowl he cups his heated hands around, it starts to harden, turning from a light yellow to a darkened gold. The witches buy out the caramel swirl lollipops and continue on as they lick and crunch on the candy.

Elemental sprites try their hand at the game booths. Even though large signs are tacked to the booths that say “No Magic Allowed” in big, bold letters, you see an air sprite change the course of a ball as his friend throws it, so the ball hits the target. Then a crystal lights up red, and the centaur that runs the booth crosses his arms over his broad chest, large hooves stamping into the dirt. The air sprite sighs and lifts his palms up, before walking away and disappearing into the crowd.

The corners of your lips twitch, but you hold back the smile. You don’t want your boss to think that he’s the subject of your amusement—not when he’s Lord Todoroki Enji, the most powerful fire dragon in centuries, and you’re just you, a water sprite.

One fiery breath from him, and most water sprites will evaporate on the spot.

But you’re not like most water sprites.

“The stones,” Enji says, voice a demanding rumble. He towers over you. His human form towers over everyone, even the centaur by the game booths, and you have to crane your neck to look past the flaming red mask on his face to catch sight of his piercing blue eyes.

“Yes, sir.” You nod and open up the flask of water by your hip. With a wave of your hand, three glittering red stones are pushed to the surface of the water. You close your hand around them, a tingle running through you at the magical energy contained in these rubies.

Enji holds out a small pouch made of velvety black cloth, his large hands making the pouch seem even smaller. You drop the stones into the pouch, and he lights a flame on the tip of his finger and runs it across the wax on the inside of the opening. The wax melts, the flame dissipates, and he presses the opening of the pouch closed for the wax to harden on its own.

The pouch disappears, hidden somewhere on his red and black armor-clad body. He, like you and all the other creatures attending the festival, are dressed in the traditional attire of their own species.

“I have business to attend to. Do whatever you want, and meet me back at the entrance when the sun rises. But keep an ear open.”

He doesn’t have to finish his statement. You know he wants you to pay attention to any rumors, any unrest—anything that could disrupt his position of power.

So you nod again. “Understood, sir. I hope the deal will be made.”

The flames that burn at the edges of his mask flare, the only visible sign of his temper. “No need to hope. It will be made.”

As Enji strides away, the throng of people parting around him, a sympathetic expression slides onto your face. “Poor Yagi Toshinori,” you murmur into the air. “It’s not going to be pleasant for him when Enji is walking into this deal with some type of grudge.”

But you shrug and close the flask of water and let it hang from the belt around your waist. “At least I get the night off from being Enji’s assistant.” These types of days—or nights—are few and far between.

With the pleasant thought of getting to enjoy the festival all on your own, you smile to yourself and start walking, slipping into the crowd, your water sprite clothing a speck of bright blue among the rainbow of colors of the fall festival.

–

Your first stop is to one of the rows of food stalls. The air is filled with distinct scents; some sweet, others savory, but all make your mouth water and your stomach grumble.

You decide on something savory, first, so it’ll take the edge off your hunger so you can explore the rest of the festival. A stall that sells steamed buns catches your eye—and the scent that wafts from it entices your stomach. The two dwarves that run the stall are sisters, from the look of it, both with round cheeks and full lips, each wearing masks with vines embroidered on them. They bicker quietly among themselves until they see you approach.

“Here for the best meat buns in the festival?” asks the one on the right, dressed in soft browns.

“Or are you here for the best vegetable buns in the festival?” This comes from the one on the left, her traditional clothes in earthy greens. She shoots her sister a glare while waiting for your answer.

You look from one to the other, then purse your lips as you look at the wooden baskets that contain the steamed buns. It smells heavenly, and the buns aren’t too large, so you say, “I’ll have one of each, please. Who wouldn’t say no to trying the best meat and vegetable buns in the whole festival?”

That makes them smile, each pleased. As the sister in brown takes one of each bun out from the woven baskets, the other takes the two coins you hand her.

“Good choice, cunning fox,” the dwarf in green says.

You blink at her once, twice, until realization dawns. She means your mask. Although the designs are blue painted on white ceramic to match your traditional water sprite clothing, the opening for your eyes are distinctly fox-shaped, slanted and sharply cut at the corners. There are ears at the top of the mask, and a little snout over your nose, leaving your mouth uncovered.

“Ah,” you say lamely. Then add, “How am I able to choose when all of it smells so delectable?”

The dwarf grins, and her sister hands you your order wrapped with thin, brown paper. The heat from the buns sink into your hands immediately. It’s chilly out, and even though your traditional clothes are rather warm, your fingers still are cold.

“Thank you.” You dip your head to them before turning your back on the stall.

As you merge back into the crowd, the sisters wave at you and shout in unison, “Thank you for your patronage!”

–

The buns are long gone, devoured quickly as you wandered the food stalls. After getting a couple of other small snacks to eat, you leave this part of the festivals behind to explore the rest. Right now, you’re in a stall owned by a minotaur. One of your hands is wrapped around a cone of pixie sugar, a dessert made of thousands of spun sugar threads, wrapped like a fluffy cloud around a paper cone.

The other? It’s wrapped around the handle of a simple, streamlined dagger.

You stretch your arm out in a slow, smooth movement, testing the weight and feel of the blade. The minotaur, who is a blacksmith and made the dagger himself, watches on. A smirk graces his lips at the unexpected skill and familiarity you display.

“You like it?” he asks, his voice a deep rumble.

You nod. “The craftsmanship is wonderful; it’s very easy to handle. Sharp, too.”

“Can’t call it a dagger if it isn’t sharp.”

“How fire resistant, or, uh, heat resistant is it?”

This question makes the minotaur raise an eyebrow, but he answers it anyway. “Very. Fire sprites won’t be able to melt it with their flames. Even more powerful creatures can’t do it. The designs in the handles are runes, and they’ll keep the blade clean, sharp, and strong.”

“I see,” you say, pleased with his response.

“You plan on buying it?”

“Yes, but not right now. Will you hold on to it so I can purchase it later tonight?”

The minotaur eyes you for a moment, probably wondering if you’d stick to your word and return to buy the weapon. Then he nods, and you seem to pass his inspection. “Very well. I will keep this off the table so you can return to buy it.”

You smile at him in thanks and set the dagger back down on the table. “I’ll be back later, then.”

He waves a hand as he picks up the dagger, but you don’t see it as you’re already gone, pushing past the curtains that drape across the entrance to the stall.

The curtains fall behind you, and you step into the crowd, immediately slamming into a warm, hard body that makes you stumble back and trip over your own feet. Your arms flail out, trying to cushion your fall, but a hand reaches out to your own–

–and misses, closing around the cone of pixie sugar.

The sugar is crushed by the hand, compacted into nearly nothing. A tearing sound fills the air as the paper cone rips before your eyes, and you keep falling.

You hit the ground, hard. Your elbows smack against the packed dirt, pain shooting up to your shoulders, followed by numb tingling. At least your head didn’t make contact with the ground. Otherwise, you’ll probably spend the rest of the festival with a pulsing bump on the back of your head, and your hair would be coated with dust.

A groan escapes your lips as you sit up to shake out your arms. It doesn’t feel pleasant to have hit the nerves.

“Damn,” a rough, masculine voice says from above. “Took quite a hard spill there. Not as quick on your feet as an actual fox, huh?”

“Shut up,” you snap. “No one asked you. What the hell were you doing there, anyway?” You don’t look up, focusing on brushing the dirt off your blue sleeves.

There’s a hint of amusement in the voice as it responds. “I was walking, just like everyone else. You were the one who ran into me. I even tried to help you.”

“Yeah, and you missed, crushing my cone of pixie sugar instead!”

“I tried to help, and got thanked with a hand sticky because of sugar. Who’s worse off out of the two of us? Clearly, it’s me.”

Your mouth opens and shuts until your mind formulates the words you need to retort with. Pushing yourself to your feet indignantly, you brush off your pants too. “Clearly it’s you?” you mock, trying to imitate the way he delivered the sentence. “Listen here, you–”

You finally look at whoever you had the misfortune of running in to, and your mind stops working as you take him in.

His clothes are cut in the same way as traditional elemental sprite clothing is normally made, but the colors—black cloth that gives off a dark blue sheen under the light of hundreds of lanterns, and accented with bits of cyan—doesn’t match any of the four elements that normal sprites wear. They hang off his frame in such a way that his vest-like shirt shows off quite a bit of chest and arms. You notice scarred patches of skin, and staples that seem to hold the scars onto unblemished skin, but your eyes are more drawn to the dips and curves of his muscles.

You swallow, feeling a little warm despite the autumn chill.

Then your eyes move up his body until you see his dragon mask, and your breath catches in your throat.

His eyes.

They’re a beautiful, piercing blue, carrying the heat of the hottest flames as he stares at you. A shiver runs down your spine. Why do they somehow seem familiar? If you met someone like him before, you’d most certainly remember him, especially with the way he carries himself and the way his voice sounds when he speaks. He’s not one who can easily be forgotten.

“Listen here, what?” he asks, a smirk curling at his lips when your eyes flicker away, realizing that you’ve been caught staring. “C’mon, foxes aren’t known to be shy. What were you gonna say, doll?”

You have no response to give, so you just pout, drawing his attention to your lips—the only feature of your face that isn’t hidden by your fox mask. “Goodbye,” you say shortly. Then you cross your arms over your chest and turn your back to him, striding away to merge into the flow of the crowd.

Dabi stares after you for a moment, snickering. His eyes widen the slightest bit at the realization that you, a snarky, cross, quick-witted, pretty water sprite amuse him.

There are few things that amuse Dabi in life. If you’re one of them, he’s not letting you go that easily. So he hurries after you, quickly spotting you by the bright blue of your clothes. He has a mission tonight, a reason for being at the festival, but a bit of a detour won’t hurt.

He can always leave once you stop interesting him.

–

You thought walking away would be the end of that conversation, but a figure dressed in black falls in step beside you. You stop short, ignoring the grumbles of creatures that are disgruntled from your abrupt change in motion.

“What do you want?” you ask him.

Blue eyes gleam as he stretches out his right hand.

You look at it, then at him. “Congratulations, you have a hand. So?”

“A dirty hand,” he says, drawing out the words. “A dirty, sticky hand, thanks to your cone of sugar.”

“Ah yes, the pixie sugar that you destroyed!”

“Only to save you, doll.”

“To try and save me,” you correct. “What do you want me to do about it, hm?” You cross your arms over your chest and stand straight, staring him in the eyes. You seem to be doing that a lot around him, but something about his eyes just seems familiar–

“Clean it. What else? You’re a water sprite, aren’t you?”

“Yes, and you most definitely are not an elemental sprite.” You ignore the way his shoulders stiffen the slightest bit before he forces them to relax. “If I clean your hand, will you leave me alone so I can explore the festival?”

He only hums in response, but you open up your flask of water anyway. Even though he didn’t actually prevent you from hitting the ground, he at least tried, and it wouldn’t hurt to get the sugar off him.

You move your hand in an upward motion along the side of the flask, and water leaves the opening and gathers in a sphere in midair. Grabbing his dirty hand, you maneuver the water so it envelops the length of his hand, from the tips of his fingers to the base of his palm. He’s very warm, you notice absently. But you focus on swirling the water around his skin, picking up crystals of sugar until his hand is clean.

When that’s done, you withdraw the water, not leaving a single droplet behind. With another flick of your wrist, the water shoots through the air to an empty patch of dirt and sinks into the ground.

Dabi looks at his hand, swiveling his wrist. You must possess incredible skill to keep the water together, swirl it around him, and not leave any of it behind. His lips twitch. You only seem to get more and more interesting.

“Goodbye, then,” you say, and turn your back to him like you did the last time.

But as you take a step forward, his figure enters your peripheral vision. Another step, then two, three, and he’s still there.

You try to pretend that he doesn’t exist and look around at the stalls to see if there’s one you want to stop at, but his presence is impossible to ignore. Not when his body gives off a heat that you can feel through your clothes, not when his clothes are all black except for the cyan accents that only heighten the glow of his eyes.

Stopping at a stall that displays hundreds of beautifully packaged candies and small treats, you pick up a small, tin box of sweets that interest you. Pretending to look at the packaging, your eyes flicker to the side to catch him blatantly observing you with some sort of fascination.

“Okay,” you say, putting the tin back. “What do you want from me now? I thought you promised to leave me alone after I cleaned your hand.”

Dabi smirks at you and shakes his head. “I made no such promise. You really should pay more attention, little fox.”

You scowl at the nickname but focus on the more important topic. “You literally hummed when I asked if you’d be gone when I cleaned you up.”

“A hum, yes, but who said it was one of agreement?” He pauses, before adding, “It was one of contemplation—and then I decided to turn your offer down.”

You glare at him. With nothing more to say, you turn your back and leave again. This time, you don’t see him in your field of view.

Forcing a smile to your face, you look intently at the nearby stalls.

Somehow, it feels colder.

–

Dabi watches you go, noting the direction that you head in. He turns back around to the stall and picks up the tin of sweets you had looked at. He eyes the brightly colored label on the tin, then digs into a pocket to fish out a few coins. Sliding them across the counter to the witch that runs the stall, he steps back into the flow of people with the candy tin in his hand.

His long strides makes him easily catch up to you, staying back a bit to watch you look at a couple of stalls. When you pick one to stop at—a stall that sells spelled items, he notes—Dabi steps up and leans his weight against the counter, appearing in your field of view once again.

The figure dressed in blacks comes out of nowhere, but you’re not startled. Your eyes slide across to him, and you scoff to hide the flicker of happiness at the sight of him. “Miss me so soon?”

He snickers. “I should be the one to ask you that, doll. Hope being away from me didn’t hurt too much. I got held up by something I needed to get.” Without a warning, he tosses something at you.

You move quickly, hands flying up to your face, and you clap your palms together around the object. Glaring at him, you lower your hands, before focusing your attention on the metal tin in your palms. The label is bright and eye-catching, and you can’t stop your lips from curving up when you realize that it’s the tin of candies you were looking at before.

“See?” he says, pleased. “I’m not all bad.”

“No, you’re not,” you say softly. You look up at him, and the smile on your face combined with the softness of your eyes is nearly too much for Dabi to take.

You turn away from the stall and take a few steps forward. Then you look over your shoulder, at the not-an-elemental-sprite that leans against the stall. “Well?” you ask. “You coming or not?”

Dabi huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly. You still somehow managed to surprise him. He pushes off the stall, tucking his hands into his pockets as he falls in step besides you. “Why the invite? Thought you were sick of me.”

You don’t answer his question, asking your own instead. “Why do you keep sticking around? Got nothing better to do?”

“I do have some business to do here,” he says, “but you interest me, little fox.” He reaches a hand toward you to flick at the ceramic fox ears of your mask. “And these days, very few things interest me.”

You don’t know how to respond, but finally settle with an awkward, “I see.”

The two of you walk on in silence for a bit, until he breaks it. “Are you gonna tell me why I get to accompany you? I would’ve thought that you’d walk away and never look back.”

“I just wouldn’t mind the company. It’s my first time being able to actually enjoy the fall festival. Usually my boss has a business meeting that I have to attend, but his meeting is actually at the festival this year. So I get to explore the festival, but it’s nice to do it with someone else too.” You pause, lips curling into a sly smile that tells Dabi you’re about to poke fun at him. “Even if it’s with a stranger who is dressed in elemental sprite clothing yet isn’t an elemental sprite at all.”

“Damn, you caught me,” he says, delivering the words in a flat drawl that makes you snicker. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“I don’t know, scream? Run away in terror?”

He leans in toward you, lips by your ear. “Let me tell you a secret, doll. I don’t scream.” His breaths brush over your skin, making a shiver run up your spine. “But you certainly could.”

Your body suddenly feels a bit too warm, and you quickly turn to look at Dabi, putting his lips very close to your own face. “In your dreams,” you shoot back. You’re surprised that your voice comes out so steadily, when in reality, your skin buzzes and your stomach flips.

“Maybe,” he says, and straightens so there’s a bit of distance between the two of you once more. He moves on to a different topic. “What kind of a boss makes you work on the night of the fall festival? Who the hell has meetings at the fall festival?”

You snort. “Todoroki Enji, that’s who.”

If Dabi were anyone else, he might have flinched or his steps might have faltered. But he continues walking in time with you, and his voice is absent of the hate that runs through his veins when he asks, “You work for Endeavor?”

“Unfortunately.” Your voice is dry, and there’s no sign of affection for your boss.

Dabi feels a little relieved. Yet again, you’ve said something that surprises him, making his interest in you even stronger. “From all the things I know about the fucker, I’m not surprised you’re not the biggest fan of him. Why the hell do you work for him then?”

Your response is quick, even as your mind races and as pieces fall into place. “Money. He’s a dragon, so he’s had centuries to gather wealth. He pays well.”

Dabi definitely understands that. But that can’t be all. Not when it comes to you. “And?”

You look at him and hold his gaze, taking in his blue eyes as another piece falls into place. You sigh. “And there’s also a... personal reason.”

“Hm,” is all he says in response.

The conversation moves on to a different topic as you walk around this section of the festival, taking a closer look at stalls that catch your attention. You stop at a food stall and buy Dabi a skewer of juicy, fragrant grilled meat, glazed with a sweet and spicy sauce.

“For the candy tin,” you say, as you hold the skewer out to him.

His warm fingers brush against yours as he accepts it, letting out a “Not bad,” after he takes a bite.

You buy a little container of mochi for yourself to eat. Each one is made of sticky rice paste that envelopes various sweet fillings; red bean, strawberry, black sesame, and so on, the flavors a surprise until you bite through the flour-dusted outside.

Dabi finishes off his skewer of grilled meat and swipes a mochi from your container. He ignores your protest at his theft, and your following whine at the flour that falls off the mochi and dusts your sleeve. A snicker leaves him as he eats the mochi in two bites.

You look at him, glaring, and he pointedly keeps eye contact with you as he licks off the flour that dusts his lips. You quickly look away, and Dabi can’t help but feel a little pleased at the way your eyes had followed his tongue.

He pushes the feeling down, though. There’s now something that he wants from you, and he needs to get it from you.

No matter what.

–

Having finished your snacks, you lead the way to a trash bin at the edge of the festival. It’s a little dark, as the festival lanterns don’t stretch all the way out here, and the bin is nearly in the forest—nearby trees stretching up toward the moon.

Your mochi container clatters against the other pieces of trash in the bin as it hits the bottom. Dabi tosses his skewer in after.

You turn to look at him, tilting your head. He’s been a bit quiet over the past few minutes, not as much of a reaction to your teasing. There’s tension in the air that doesn’t sit quite right with you, but you keep your voice light as you push on. “Where shall we go next?”

Dabi’s arms hang loosely by his sides. He feels a finger twitch.

“Sorry, doll,” he starts off, voice equally light as yours. You think he’s going to say something along the lines of him not having a preference as to where you should go, but his next words come out dark, harsh, and angry. “You aren’t going to go anywhere. Tell me where the fuck Endeavor is.”

“W- wait, wha–”

His hands reach for you, clasping tightly around your wrists. They’re hot, but not painful, as he shoves you backward, making you stumble over your feet as he pushes you toward a tree. Two more steps, and you’ll be-

You regain your footing, and shove your shoulder into his chest, using his momentum against him.

In a mere second, you’ve reversed your positions. Though Dabi still holds onto your wrists, you’re the one moving him, pushing against him with all the force you have to slam him into the tree.

Rough bark digs into his back through the fabric of his clothes, and his head hits the trunk so hard that a steady throbbing starts up immediately. He groans and starts to move his head, but something cold pricks at his throat and he goes still.

One of your legs is pushed between his, your knee dangerously close to a vulnerable part of his anatomy. Though his hands are around your wrists, you have one arm pushing against his body to keep him against the tree. The other hand holds a lethal blade of ice—made from water that you pulled right out of the air.

“What the hell do you want with Todoroki Enji?” Your voice is flat. Cold, like the ice you hold to Dabi’s throat.

He lets go of your wrists and raises his hands slowly, showing you that he’s not moving to harm you. If it were any other person pinning him to a tree—which he’s still surprised as hell about—they’d be ashes a while ago, but Dabi is fond of you, he realizes. He enjoys your company, your quick retorts, the way he can make you flustered, and he knows that you aren’t completely enamored with Endeavor.

So his hands reach up to the dragon mask that covers his face. Before he moves any further, though, he speaks, answering your question in a confident drawl, voice deep and raspy with hate burning in his words. “I will fucking destroy Enji Todoroki.”

Your eyes grow wide, and the blade in your hand wavers, but Dabi doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity to break free. He has no reason to run from you.

Instead, he lifts off the black mask, pulling it off his head and letting his hands move back down to his sides. His eyes glow in the darkness, heated by inner flames. A smirk spreads across his lips, and he cocks his head to the side; you shift your ice blade to avoid cutting him.

“I’m the most wanted criminal, doll, the deadliest dragon. You must know me. I’m–”

“Todoroki Touya,” you breathe, at the same time that he finishes speaking.

“–Dabi.”

The words, the name that comes out of your mouth registers in Dabi’s mind. He jolts against you, and you push him back into the tree.

“You said Todoroki Touya,” Dabi growls, the words familiar but unused on his tongue. “How the fuck do you know that name?”

You scowl at him. “I’m the one with the knife here–” you pause to press the ice back against his throat, “–so I’m the one asking the questions. You just get to answer them.”

Dabi clicks his tongue, and sighs. “Should have known you wouldn’t make things easy, little fox. You’re quite cunning.”

The temperature rises around you, and the ice in your hand turns to water. You don’t have enough time to reform it into a blade before Dabi sweeps one leg at your own, knocking your feet out from under you.

For the second time at this festival, you find yourself hitting the ground, breath knocked out of your lungs—this time with a powerful fire dragon pinning you down.

Dabi has his hands around your wrists again, pushing them on the ground on either side of your head. His knees are by your hips, shins pressing down on your legs, caging you in and keeping you in place. You struggle against his grip, trying to wrench your arms free, but his hold is secure.

Realizing you’re not going to go anywhere, you finally still. “What the hell do you want?” you spit out, glaring into his eyes.

He tilts his head and a smirk spreads across his face as he uses your words from earlier against you. “I’m the one pinning you down, doll, so I get to ask the questions. You just worry about answering them, yeah?”

Dabi ignores your glare and your struggle against his grip on your wrists. “So tell me,” he says, voice turning from teasing to menacing, “what the hell do you know about Todoroki Touya?”

You hold his gaze for a long moment before huffing out a breath. If he really is who you think he is, he must only be asking this because he never expected anyone to make the connection. “I always thought it was strange, you know, that such a powerful dragon like Endeavor could have his son just disappear on him. The more I thought about it, the more it didn’t sit right with me. So I did some digging, asked questions, looked at old news articles from that time when you, Touya,” you say pointedly, “went missing.”

Dabi doesn’t confirm nor deny your accusation that he’s Touya, but his silence is confirmation enough.

You press on. “I read about the burns that Touya had. There were rumors that they’re caused by the strength of his flames—that his fire is too hot for his human body to contain. Even Endeavor’s flames never did that to him, so it isn’t a large stretch to think that Touya is more powerful than Endeavor is, even as a child.

“We all know if Endeavor feels that his power is threatened… he’ll eliminate the threat. Even if that threat is his son.”

Pausing, your eyes scan over Dabi’s face to try and read his emotions. His face just seems cold, hard, as if this is not news to him. But his eyes burn brightly under the shadows of the forest, heated from the fire he carries within.

“Go on,” he says, voice just as threatening as before. “If you know Endeavor is capable of such things, why the fuck do you work for him? No money can be enough to win you over after that realization, not unless you’re just a liar and don’t actually give a shit.”

“I did need a job at the time Endeavor was looking for a new secretary. But it’s more than that,” you add on hastily, when the hands around your wrists grow hot. “It’s not right that Endeavor gets to be this high and mighty Dragon Lord over so many of us creatures when he’s done such terrible things to his own son. But if everyone learns about it and tries to overthrow him, he’ll find a way to kill the protestors and seize their properties, only making him wealthier than before.”

You breathe deeply. “I won’t let that happen, not as long as I live. So I took the job, and have worked to gain more and more of Endeavor’s trust.”

Dabi’s lips curl into a sneer of disgust. “And do what with that trust? You’re just trying to play hero.”

Your voice is even as you reply, “Nothing is heroic about murder. And that’s exactly what I plan on doing to Endeavor.”

“You, little fox? Murder? You’re a water sprite. You do know what fire can do to water, yeah?”

You smirk at him. “You do know what water can do to fire, yeah? Besides, I’m no ordinary water sprite.”

And then Dabi no longer holds your wrists in his hands, nor do his shins press down on your legs. In a second, your arms turn to liquid under his grip, seeping out between his fingers and reforming outside of his grasp. Your legs, too, turn to water, only to become skin and flesh when you have them wrapped around his waist.

Then you grip his shirt in your fists, and heave him sideways, using your legs to force the lower half of his body to flip over.

You’re distinctly aware of the position that this leaves you in; hands gripping his shoulders, staring into his still-wide eyes, legs on either side of his waist as your weight rests on his abdomen. You feel warm, and it’s not solely because of Dabi’s higher than normal body temperature.

“You really think I can’t hold my own against Endeavor?” Your voice is smug, pleased at the shock that had flashed across his face when you liquified your limbs.

Dabi swallows, liking the way your mouth curls, completing the sly look with the fox mask over the top half of your face. He’s still reeling over the fact that you were able to do what you did—it takes immense power and control to have your skills, and you’re young, too. But his eyes move up to meet your own, and he is serious when he says, “You’re strong as hell, doll.”

Your lips part slightly at the raw honesty of his words.

He continues, and you listen attentively to him, letting the low, rough sounds of his voice wash over you. “What you can do is fucking astounding, and almost unheard of. But it’s not enough. Even in water form, if he breathes his flames as a dragon, you’ll turn to vapor. At best, you’ll be injured. At worst, you’ll be dead.

“Don’t risk your life for a boy who is long gone.”

You blink, and your vision blurs, holding unshed tears for the lost boy, Touya, and the man, Dabi, he had to become.

“But,” you say, and your words stick to your throat, so you have to swallow before trying again. “But he can’t just get away with it. I won’t let him. I’ll stop him.”

Dabi can’t extinguish the warmth that blooms behind his chest. It’s a warmth not of the flames within him, but from the care and passion you show about Todoroki Touya, a boy you’ve only heard and read about, a boy who has no connection with you. Yet you care.

“No worries, doll. He won’t get away with it.” Dabi pauses, and something settles in his chest as he makes up his mind. “We won’t let him.”

Your eyes widen, and you sit a little straighter on his stomach. “‘We?’ What are you–”

“C’mon, little fox,” he purrs, “you’re smart. We both want the same thing: to see Endeavor dead and gone. It certainly would be easier if the two of us were to work together, yeah?”

It doesn’t take much thought for you to reach your decision. You like Dabi, you’ve enjoyed his company all night. Even though he does tease and fluster the hell out of you, you can give it back just as well. And to learn that he’s the person you were doing all this for?

Your voice is confident as you agree with a simple “Yes.”

Dabi huffs out a quiet chuckle, before raising his right hand up between the two of you. “Glad to have you on board, doll.”

You take it, feeling the calluses on his fingers brush over your skin. “I’m glad, too.”

You shake your hands up and down once, then let go, but he pointedly drags his fingers over your palm before completely releasing you. A tingle runs up your arm.

“So what next?” you ask.

“First of all,” Dabi says, “I’d really like to get off the ground.”

You look down at Dabi. It takes you a second to realize that your whole conversation has happened while one of you is on top of or under one another. An embarrassed squeak leaves your mouth, then heat rushes to your head as you scramble off of Dabi and get to your feet.

Once you’re up, you offer a hand to help him up. He wraps his hand around yours and you pull, getting him to stand in one fluid movement. But you pull a little hard, and he ends up with his chest pressed against your own, with your arm sandwiched awkwardly between.

Dabi guides your arm down to your side before letting go of your hand. He doesn’t step away though. Instead, he slides his arm around you, pressing his hand gently against your back to prevent you from making some space between you.

“Second of all,” he says, the vibrations from his chest buzzing against your own skin, “I’d like to see who I’m working with. You did see me without my mask, little fox, so it’s only fair if I get to see you without yours.”

You swallow nervously. After a moment of silence, you nod. “Okay.”

His eyes light up, but he maintains a neutral expression as he reaches up for your mask with his free hand. Slowly, slowly, he lifts the painted ceramic off your face, sliding it up and over your head. He doesn’t toss it to the ground because it might break, so he presses the mask into your hand.

When your fingers curl around the mask, Dabi moves his hand back up again, snapping his fingers to create a flickering blue flame.

His breath catches in his throat as the light dances across the curves of your face. With his flame tinting your features blue, Dabi thinks you’re the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid eyes on. He’s seen a lot of horror in the past, but one look at you washes the dark images away.

“Fuck,” he breathes, the lightest breath brushing across your face. “You’re pretty as hell.”

The honesty in his voice makes you happy, yet also serves to fluster you. “You’re not too bad yourself,” you manage to respond. Your eyes travel over his face as he does the same to you. You take in his sharp nose, chiseled jawline, the scars up to his mouth and under his eyes. His eyes glow brightly, a blue as pretty as the flames he holds in his hand to cast light onto both of you.

He’s beautiful. Not despite his scars, but in light of them.

A smirk turns up his lips, making him look even more devastatingly handsome. “I think I’m going to like this partnership very, very much.”

You return the smile. Dabi thinks you look ethereal.

“Me too.”

–

You tell him that you have to meet back up with Enji at the festival entrance when the sun rises. Dabi nods while he slips your mask back over your face, fingers brushing against your cheeks as he gently pulls away.

Though he had intended to learn more about Enji and his business dealings at the festival today, Dabi doesn’t need to go after the dragon lord. Not when you are Enji’s assistant, someone who can spill his secrets. He says as much, and your voice is light and teasing as you respond. “And I thought you stuck with me because you liked my company.”

He rolls his eyes as he puts his dragon mask back on. “That means we get until sunrise to finish looking around the festival. You can’t get away from me that quickly.”

You smile at him as both of you walk past the trash can and join the crowds again. “As if I’d want to.”

Dabi’s mouth turns up in the smallest smile, and he moves a hand to rest on your lower back to keep you close. “Where to, doll?”

You hum for a moment in thought. “I need to stop by a stall and pick something up. The owner agreed to hold it for me.”

“Are you gonna tell me what you’re picking up?” When you shake your head, Dabi chuckles and gestures at the crowded path with his free hand. “Lead the way then, doll.”

–

You arrive at your destination and push through the curtains covering the stall entrance. Dabi follows suit. As soon as he steps into the stall and the curtains fall shut behind him, his eyes widen and he whistles at the variety of weapons displayed on the walls and on tables.

“Damn,” he says, eyes taking in a display of silver pistols. “What the hell are you buying?”

The minotaur approaches you with the dagger you had asked him to set aside. The blade is in its sheath, and together the weapon looks beautiful, almost decorative. But when you take it from him with a grateful smile, and unsheathe it, the blade is clearly sharp and shines brightly under the light of small lanterns in the stall.

“Thank you for holding on to this for me,” you tell the minotaur. You slide the dagger into its sheath and reach into one of the deep pockets of your flowy traditional water sprite pants. As you pull out your wallet, your hand bumps into the tin of candy from Dabi, which makes your eyes soften.

Following the minotaur to his counter, you slide your credit card through the card reader to pay for the dagger. It’s expensive, yes, but it has the exact qualities you’ve been looking for. Besides, Todoroki Enji does pay you a pretty nice salary, allowing you to have a decent amount of spending money in addition to your savings.

With a farewell to the minotaur, you nudge Dabi out the stall. You start to wander down the row of stalls as you adjust your belt, slipping the dagger on it to rest beside your flask of water.

“So?” Dabi asks as you peer into a spacious cage with a couple of brightly colored birds in it. “Why do you need a dagger for? From what I’ve seen, you’re more than capable of protecting yourself.”

“I can make my daggers out of ice, but they’re unreliable depending on the magic that my attacker can use.” You catch the smirk that starts to spread on his face, so you quickly speak again. “I thought of this way before I ran into you, got it? Don’t let it get to your head.”

Dabi brings a hand up to his heart, clutching his shirt as if your comment hurts him. He lets out a groan of mock pain.

You snicker at his theatrics and punch his arm; not too hard to seriously hurt him, but enough to sting the slightest bit. “Be quiet,” you order, then tug on his arm to look at another stall that catches your eye.

–

You spend the rest of the night this way, teasing and getting to know each other as you explore a good chunk of the festival.

Dabi buys you a new cone of pixie sugar. It’s at your insistence, but he gives in with relatively few snarky comments. You happily pull tufts of spun sugar from the fluffy cloud and place it on your tongue, the treat dissolving immediately in your mouth. When you lick at the sticky residue left behind on your fingers, Dabi can’t take his eyes off you until he runs into the corner of a table, the sting of pain bringing his attention back to the crowded paths.

You hide your snicker by pushing another mouthful of pixie sugar past your lips.

–

As the stars start to fade away, being washed out by the brightening sky, the two of you make your way toward the main entrance of the festival. You stand off the main path, more hidden in the woods than out in the open.

First you exchange numbers, smiling when you see the contact name he sets for you; the little fox emoji. You set his contact with the flame emoji in return, although Dabi complains that there isn’t a blue one.

Then you pull out your dagger, explaining to him about the runes in the handle that should make it basically fire-proof.

“Can I see it?” Dabi asks.

You wordlessly hand it over, careful not to get either of you hurt by the sharp edges.

“Huh,” he muses, feeling the weight of it. Then without any warning, he lets blue fire blaze from the palm of his free hand, and lets it envelop the length of the blade.

You cry out in surprise. “Dabi!”

A few seconds later, he extinguishes his flames and examines the blade. It’s exactly the same as it used to be, and it’s any warmer than before he let his fire loose. “You got the real deal, then,” he says, handing the dagger back to you.

You sniff and say, “Of course,” as you slide it into your sheath.

“If it withstands my fire, it can definitely withstand Endeavor’s. In our human forms, at least. But that’s good enough, because the fucker is weaker than me, and he’s old as hell.”

“Older and has more experience,” you remind Dabi.

“Yeah,” he admits. “But he doesn’t have you on his side.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you look at Dabi in surprise. He gives you an actual smile, slightly crooked and closed-mouth, but a genuine one.

Warmth wells inside you, and you smile back.

Dabi steps closer and closer to you until he can slide one arm around your waist, the other moving up to lift his mask off his face. He walks you backward until your back bumps against a tree. You look into his brilliant blue eyes, and he holds your gaze.

“Can I kiss you, doll?”

Your eyes shine happily, and you breathe out a “Yes.”

He leans in toward you, closing the distance between his face and yours, until your lips are nearly touching. Then he pauses, and asks, “Are you sure?” His voice is filled with amusement, and your eyebrows draw together in frustration.

“Stop teasing and kiss me, Dabi!”

And he does just that.

His lips meld against yours, a scorching heat that warms you from the outside in. He presses you harder against the tree as he deepens the kiss, the scars that reach up to his lower lip just a bit rough against your own. But he kisses so masterfully, stealing your breath with every brush of his mouth on yours, and though your chest starts to ache for air, you don’t want to pull away.

You finally draw back from him with one final pass of your lips over his, then take a deep inhale of the crisp autumn air.

Dabi looks at you, taking in the way your chest heaves for breath, the slightly dazed look in your eyes. He smirks, blue eyes burning with an intense heat.

Then a deep, rumbling voice can be heard over the sounds of the festival. Both you and Dabi stiffen, and he slips his mask back on his face.

“That’s my cue to exit, doll. I’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

You nod and step away from the tree. “You better,” you say, “or else you’ll have an angry water sprite hunting you down.”

“Scary.” He fakes a shudder. “I know just how terrifying water sprites can get. No worries then, I’ll text you sooner rather than later.” Dabi walks deeper into the forest and is enveloped by the shadows.

A smile lingers on your face as you stare after him. But as a towering figure steps into your field of vision, you school your expression into something more neutral. “Hello, sir. How was the meeting?”

“Good.” That means it was more than successful. “Your boyfriend?” Enji asks after a moment of silence.

Your eyebrow arches in surprise. You didn’t think he’d be interested if you ever were to get into a relationship—not with Enji’s strict rules on being professional. You don’t know how else to explain Dabi’s presence, so you settle with, “Ah, y-yes, sir.”

“You never mentioned him.” He turns his back to you and starts walking toward the main path, and you follow suit.

“It’s a bit of a, um, recent development.” Recent as in you just met the guy a couple hours ago and he isn’t actually your boyfriend.

“I see.”

That’s the extent of your conversation as you get into the car Enji has waiting for both of you at the entrance. As the driver starts the engine and pulls onto the street, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

You pull it out and enter the passcode, opening up the messaging app. There’s a message from a contact with a flame for its name, and your lips curl upward as you open up the message.

So I’m your boyfriend now?

You guess that means Dabi didn’t go too deep into the forest, but stayed close by to make sure you were safe. Warmth settles in your chest at the thought.

You open up his contact information and edit his contact name, biting your lip to stop the smile from spreading across your face. Taking a screenshot of it, you attach the image to a message that you type out. You send it, then shut off your phone, looking out the window of the car to see the rays of the morning sun stretch across the sky.

The soft light bathes everything in a gentle glow.

You smile, content.

–

Dabi’s phone buzzes not long after he sends the message to you. His fingers move quickly as he opens up the messaging app, pulling up the conversation with you. He reads your text.

We’re partners now, aren’t we? It’s only fitting.

He opens up the image you sent, and takes in the screenshot of his contact profile on your phone. There’s nothing there except for his phone number, but then his eyes move up to the contact name.

“Boyfriend,” he muses, “with a black heart next to it.”

Shutting off his phone and slipping it into his pocket, Dabi can’t help but shake his head and let out a quiet chuckle. He hasn’t felt this way in a very, very long time.

He looks up at the sky, where the first rays of sun are casting golden streaks against paleing pinks and blues.

And Dabi smiles, content.

–

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blackhakumen · 3 years

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Mini Fanfic #815: Last Straw (Super Smash Bros Ultimate X Persona 5)

2:12 p.m. at the Isle Defino's Restaurant.........

Pink Female Pianta: (Smiles Brightly at Mario, Peach, Ren, and Makoto After She Place Their Meals Down on the Table) I hope you all enjoy our meals for today!~ (Turns to Mario with a Dark Expression on her Eyes) Especially you, you no good criminal of a plumber....(Went Back to Smiling Brightly Again Before Walking Away) Goodbyeeee!~

Mario: (Chuckles Awkwardly) I see that.... we're....(Puts on a Deadpinned Look on his Face) Still on that phase, aren't we?

Peach: (Groans Which Pinching her Nose a Little)

Mario: (Turns to Peach While Placing his Hand on Top of Her Other One) Are you okay, Peach?

Peach: (Turns to Mario With a Reassuring Smile on her Face) I'll be fine, honey. ('Sigh') I'm just trying not let those Piantas get the better of me. I'd never realized it would be so challenging.....

Makoto: I'd say. I could never imagine getting over it that easily if I were in that position.....

Ren: ('Sigh') Tell me about it. (Turns to Mario) I'm surprised none of this is bothering you in the slightest.

Mario: (Smiles Sheepishly at Ren While Rubbing the Back of his Head Back and Forth) I wouldn't say it doesn't bother me completely. I just try and look at the brighter side of all of this, you know? I even tried not to think too hard on the messier part of the past.

Makoto: (Raised an Eyebrow) How "messier" are we talking about exactly?

Mario: Welllllllll.....For starters, back when Shadow Mario kidnapped the princess and took her to Pinna Park, there were a few eye witnesses that saw the whole incident going. It was practically a golden opportunity to prove the fact that there were two of me and all of this was misunderstanding to begin with. Yet.....They still think I was a criminal.

Makoto: (Couldn't Believe What She's Hearing) My God.... That's terrible.....

Peach: It was.....(Turns to Mario) I'm so sorry I wasn't much help to you during that time around, Mario. I was going scream out for help, but Shadow Mario, who was Bowser Jr at the time.

Makoto: (Nodded While Understanding What Ren is Telling Her) Okay.....

Ren: Yeah......

Peach: ...Taped my mouth shut at last second.

Makoto: But some of the citizens still saw you getting kidnapped during that time, right?

Peach: Yes, but....('Sigh') They were panicking for the most part.

Makoto: And there were no policemen involved?

Mario: (Shook his Head) Not a single one I'm afraid. Didn't make any better when tried telling them everything that happened during that time and even when Junior first tired to kidnap the princess, they kept telling me that I was slacking off and that I should get back to work on cleaning the Island.

Makoto: (Starts Facepalming Herself in Disbelief) I don't believe this......

Ren: I know, right? Their police system are million times worst than the one in our universe......

Mario: That..... wasn't worse of it......

Makoto/Peach: It wasn't?

Mario: Nope. (Turns to Peach) Do you remember those Star Sprites they wanted me to gather to restore the brightness of their island?

Peach: Yeah. You had to go through other worlds to obtain them, right?

Mario: .....For the most part.....There were a few citizens here that had them already. They only gave them to me after I do their chores for them.

Peach: ('Gasps')

Makoto: (Turns to Ren) Ren, is all of this is true?

Ren: Yep. And it's not even the worst of it.

Makoto: Oh sweet, merciful Johanna....What now?

Ren: (Points at a White House Standing on the End of the Dock) You see that house over there?

Makoto: (Turns to the House Ren is Showing Her) Yeah? What about it?

Ren: There these two raccoons who lives over there and they have a crap ton of Star Sprites inside. But the only way to get any of them is to trade them-

Mario: Blue Coins. ('Groans a Little') I remember how exhausting it was to get them all........(Chuckles Lightly) Good thing I got it all over it and made it back in one piece.

Peach: ............................

Mario: Uh.....Peach? D-Darling?

Peach: (Starts Taking a Deep Breath Before Speaking) Let me see if I get this right....You mean to tell that there are raccoons who are living in that house, trading Star Sprites for Blue Coins as a currency....The SAME Star Sprites that were SUPPOSED TO BE USED to restore the brightness of the entire Island.....AND YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT NO ONE, NOT EVEN THE AUTHORITIES, EVEN BOTHER TO QUESTION THEM AT ALL!?

Mario: .........Pretty much. Yeah.

Peach: .......... That's it. (Immediately Gets Up From her Table) I'mma sue 'em.

Mario: ('Sigh') Peach....

Peach: (Turns to Mario With a Form Frown on her Face) No, Mario! Ever since the day we arrived here, I have tried SO hard not let all of this get me. But after everything they've put you through, even AFTER you risk your life to save them, I cannot sit here and let this slide anymore! Enough is enough!!

Mario: But how are we going to find ourselves a lawyer here? We've never got one the last time we went to court.

Ren: (Already Has a Smirk on Face) No worry, you guys. Makoto and I know someone who can help plead your case no problem.

Makoto: Wait. We do? (Eyes Widened For a Brief Second Before Sighing at the Fact That She Figured Who Ren is Talking About) Ren, we're not asking my sister to come over here to court.

Ren: Ah c'mon, 'hon. She's the only person we know who has any experience being in a courtroom.

Makoto: But what if she already working this remaining week!? We can't just back to Shiyuba and ask her to come with us! She'll decline the offer quicker than you can say-

???: Why, hello my dear little sister.

Makoto yelps while quickly jumping into Ren's arms before turning around to see that it's none other than her older sister, Sae Niijima.

Makoto: Sis? W-What are you doing here!?

Sae: My boss gave me a few days off yesterday. So I decided to come here to spend the rest it with you. And before you ask, I used one of your Dimensional Rings to get here.

Makoto: Oh sis...(Hugs Sae Lovingly) You have no idea how happy this made me~

Sae: (Giggles Softly) Likewise. I'm really happy to see you again, Makoto. (Kiss the Top of Makoto's Head Before Turning to Ren) You too, Ren. I hope you're treating my little sister well as usual.

Ren: (Happily Nodded) Yep.

Peach: Ms. Niijima, I know you've just arrived here and everything, but could you please help us with our case in court?

Sae: (Simply Nodded) Of course I can, your highness. I may be prosecutor for most, but I have learned a thing or two about being lawyer in the paat. So you and Mario-san are in good hands.

Peach: (Gasps Happily Before Grabbing Both of Sae's Hands) Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!~ Is there anything we can do to return a favor!?

Sae: Only if you don't mind having me be a part of your family vacation....(Turns to Ren and Makoto with a Smirk on her Face) And that I get to share a room with Ren and Makoto in the process.

Ren/Makoto: (Eyes Widened in Complete Shock) WHAT!?

Mario: (Chuckles Lightly) You're here already, aren't you? Of course you can be a part of our family vacation! (Turns to Ren and Makoto) You two don't mind having Sae in your room for the time being, do you?

Ren/Makoto: ('Sighs in Utter Defeat') No.......

Makoto: (Turns to Ren) I knew this was a mistake.......

Sae: (Place her Arms Around Ren and Makoto's Shoulder) Oh don't be like that, you two. We should focus on something more important at hand: Winning this case!

One Court Session Later......

'Jail Cell Closing'

Sae: (Standing Behind the Cell Bars With Genuine Surprise Look on her Face) I was not expecting the courtroom to be that stubborn.......

Mario: (Sitting Next to Peach on One Side of the Cell) I can't believe they locked us up in a matter of minutes!!....And call me crazy, but I think this might be my second time coming back to this prison cell again.

Sae: (Turns to Mario) How can you tell this one is yours?

Mario: (Points at the Craved, Written Words at the Top of the Wall) It has my name up there.

Sae: (Looks Up and See the Name Mario on That Said Wall) Ah. What a...... Strange discovery....

Ren: (Sitting Next to Makoto on the Other Side of the Cell) Being in jail isn't too bad. (Crosses his Arms) Got locked up twice in row and I was still fine enough as it is.......(Suddenly Starts Shaking his Arms in a Bit of Fear)

Makoto: (Starts Worrying For her Boyfriend Before Hugging Him Lovingly and Reassuringly)

Peach: (Looking Down at the Floor With Regret on her Face) I'm sorry I put you all into this.... If I didn't thought of suing them in the first place, then none of this would've happened.

Mario: (Places his Hand on Peach's Shoulder) Your heart was in the right place through all of this, dear. It's okay. And besides.....(Starts Blushing While Smiling a Little) I thought it was really sweet of you to go out of your way to do this for me to begin. Even though you...really didn't have to.....

Peach: (Immediately Turns to Mario) But I wanted to do it for you, Mario! You've done so much for me since the day we first place. Whether it's saving me from getting kidnapped, giving me all the support and care I needed, helping me go through my common and personal problems, or everything else in between. All I ever wanted to do is to be there for you too. Because you mean so much more to me than just being my hero o-or my Knight in Shining Armor....(Tears Starts Falling Down From Her Eyes) You're the man I wanna love and be with for the rest of my life.....

Mario: (Heart Begins to Melt by Peach's Words) Oh Peach.......(Gives Peach a Loving Hug) You know just as well as I do that you've done so much for me than anyone thinks you do. Besides my own brother, I wouldn't even be half the man I am today if weren't for all the love, care, and support you've given me throughout the years. Heck, you being here with me at all as already made my day and many others before and after that, all the more special to me and I can't even begin to tell you how much you mean to me too. (Smiles Brightly) But all I know is that no matter what happens, I'll always love you from the bottom of my heart, Princess Peach.

Peach: (Heart Begins to Melt as Well) Mario.......('Sniff') (Immediately Hugs Mario Back Lovingly) I love you too!~ Never ever ever ever ever ever EVER forget that, okay!?~

Mario: (Chuckles Lightly) Of course, dear~

'Jail Cell Opens'

Blue Police Pianta: Alright, troublemakers. You're free to go now.

Daisy: (Pops Out From the Back of the Policeman on One Side) Heeeey, Cuz!~

Luigi: (Pops Out From the Other Side of the Policeman While Happily Waving at Mario) Hey, Bro!

Peach: (Eyes Widened at What is Happening Right Now Along With the Others) Daisy!? Luigi!?

Mario: You two bailed us out!?

Daisy: (Smiles Brightly While Resting her Arm Onto Luigi's Shoulder) Yep! We used the money from the safe whenever one of us get arrested.

Luigi: (Smiles Brightly as Well) We even brought the safe from the home with us the entire just in case. Are you okay?

Peach: (Smiles Reliefly and Brightly) Oh you two have no idea how-

Orange Police Pianta: Yeah, yeah. Tell 'em all about it when you get outside. Now, come on! Out of the cell! All of you!

Few Minutes Later Outside..........

Police Pianta: Now, I hope you five learned a valuable lesson about causing trouble to this town.

Daisy: But.... all they did was trying to sue you-

Orange Police Pianta: QUIET!

Blue Police Pianta: Now, as what I was saying, we'll be watching you, pals. We'll know right away if you start causing more trouble.

Luigi: Uhhh...

Mario: (Whispers to Luigi) They won't do anything, bro. Trust me on this one.

Luigi: (Shrugs) Okie Dokie. (Starts Walking Away Along With The Others)

Makoto: ('Sigh') Well.....That was a lot more eventful than I could ever imagine.

Sae: Agreed. I never thought I would start my vacation here in a prison cell....(Turns to Luigi and Daisy) Has anyone else in the Smash Family actually got arrested before all of this?

Luigi: (Smiles a Bit Sheepishly) Well, Dedede was arrested two years ago for raiding across the Area 51 by Naruto running.

Sae: ........ You're Kidding.....

Daisy: (Giggles Softly While Hugging Onto Luigi's Arm) Nope!~ It was all around the news when it happened. He even got his chewed out by Peach afterwards. It was priceless!~

Luigi: And effective.

Sae: ('Sigh') You know, I'm starting to think our arrest is more meaningless than before.........

Peach: (Sighs While Resting her Head Onto Mario's Shoulder) Well, I'm just glad all of this is over now.

Ren: Tell me about it. Don't know about you guys, but I can really go for a nice, relaxing back massage right now-

?????: RENNNNNN!!!!

And with that, Palutena and Bayonetta, along with all the members of the Phantom Thieves rushes over and hug tackle Ren into the ground one by one. All was right in the world yet again.

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