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lincolndjarin · 7 months

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main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day two - afab!ficauthor!reader x javier peña

prompt : virginity loss [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 5.1 k

summary : javier peña has been a thorn in your side for months, the last thing you need is for him to find out you write dirty fanfiction

warnings, etc. : language, fluff, smut, protected sex, p in v sex, oral m!recieving, fingering, mutual masturbation, viginity loss (duh), innocence kink sorta, squirting, reader is completely clueless when it comes to sex, javier is a dumb sweetheart in this, plot w a little porn lol

a/n : yippee! this is an idea ive had floating around for a bit and this seemed like a good opportunity to do it! easily the longest of the kinktober stuff lmao which is why i didnt want this to be day one cause i didnt want to set a precedent haha. also i hate this but it's october so like i can't do much about that lmao. AND the edit was rushed bc i gotta get to work so apologies for any errors!!

“What’s that?” You slam your laptop shut the moment you hear his voice.

“Nothing.” You hadn’t heard him come into your office yet here he is, looming over your shoulder.

“Didn’t look like nothing.” You can’t stand the mocking smile on his face.

“Did you need something?” You do your best to sound patient.

“I’ve got some suspect photos I need you to identify.” He’s still grinning from ear to ear as you hold your hand out for the file. You flip through the pictures before tossing them onto the pile of paperwork you’ve been trudging through. You’re waiting for him to leave but he just stays in place behind you until you spin around in your chair.

“Is there something else?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, glowering at him.

“What were you working on?” For god's sake, drop it.

“Get out of my office Peña, or I won’t process your suspects.” Thankfully that gets him to leave, sighing as he closes the door behind him. Once you’re sure he’s not coming back you open your laptop again, quickly closing out your tabs.

The last thing you need is for Javier fucking Peña to read your Star Wars fanfiction.

He makes your life hell around the office enough as is. He makes fun of how you dress, he only ever asks you to file his paperwork, (despite the dozen others who are just as capable.) and you’re pretty sure he stole your lunch one time. He’s just in general a nuisance. (And it doesn’t help that he’s gorgeous and knows it.)

It’s not like you’re ashamed of your writing, you’ve mentioned it in passing to some of your friends around the office but Javier is different. He gives you enough grief without knowing how badly you wanna fuck Anakin Skywalker, you can’t imagine how much worse thing would get if he found you’re writing.

So you get back to work, trying to forget the interaction entirely.

You like to work late on fridays, it makes things easier, you don’t have to come in early on monday and no ones around to bother you while you work. You’re just about done with everything as you gather up all the finished documents, going from empty office to empty office as you leave the respective papers on each person's desk.

You’re nearly done, you’ve just got Javier’s suspect list to deal with as you step into the bullpen to deliver it you’re surprised to see him still sitting at his desk, everyone else is gone, only his desk lamp and computer monitor light the large room. You approach quietly, wanting to get this done as quickly as possible so you can just go home. You’re about to clear your throat to get his attention when you freeze in place.

You recognize the website he’s on.

You’d know that red bar anywhere.

There’s no fucking way.

You feel your face getting flushed, a deep shame settling in your stomach as you take another step forward just to be sure.

Archive of Our Own beta

And just below that, the name of your favorite song, but more importantly, the title of your fanfiction.

You’re so fucked.

You feel a mess of angry tears starting to pool in your eyes as you hear him groan.

That somehow hurts worse.

Not only is he reading it, but he also thinks it’s so bad he’s audibly expressing it. You’re livid, and humiliated, you should spend this weekend looking for a new job because he’s about to become insufferable. Knowing him, everyone will know about it before you even get in on monday.

In your rage you walk forward noisily, tossing his files down onto his desk, turning, planning on glaring at him once before leaving, hoping he doesn’t see how truly upset you are.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you’re met with. You’re expecting a smirk or maybe even a look of disgust, instead he’s gritting his teeth, his hair sticking to his forehead, a visible sheen of sweat on his face and most prominently, his hand haphazardly shoved down the front of his pants.

You both realize the predicament you’re caught in at the same time. You stare way too long. Eyes lingering on the exposed skin where his shirt rides up, a trail of hair running down his naval. Neither one of you moves until you finally snap out of it, squeezing your eyes shut and turning on your heel, walking as quickly as possible towards the exit when you hear the squeak of his chair on the floor as he calls out your name. You don’t dare turn around though, not slowing your pace until you’re out of the building and in your car.

Thankfully he doesn’t pursue you further as you drive home as quickly as possible. Hands tightly gripping the wheel the entire time. You can see your phone blowing up in your bag, the inside dimly lit the entire length of the drive. When you pull into your apartment building’s parking lot. You grab your bag and hurry inside, desperate to just go to bed and forget everything that just happened, ignoring the throbbing between your legs from what you just witnessed.

You step inside your studio, locking up behind you as you toss your bag onto the bed, shedding your clothes and stepping into the bathroom, praying that a cold shower will clear your head.

It doesn’t.

You feel just as hot and frazzled as you did before. Maybe he was just trying to mess with you. If that’s the case then now he’s just sexually harassing you.

Stupid fucking Peña.

You pull a tank top over your head and throw on a pair of panties before collapsing on your bed. You don’t want to look but you won’t be able to sleep if you don’t, so you reach into your bag, retrieving your phone.

Just as suspected you have an endless amount of messages from the man himself. You're about to start scrolling through them all when you read the most recent one.

[ I’m coming over. ]

Son of a bitch.

You quickly scroll through the previous messages.

[ I’m sorry, are you okay? ]

[ Call me or I’m coming over. ]

[ Please just text me back. ]

[ I really liked your story. ]

[ I’m sorry. ]

There’s about a hundred similar messages but one stands out to you more than anything else.

He liked your story.

Why does that make your face burn up?

You start typing, telling him that he doesn’t want to find out what’s gonna happen if he shows up but you’re interrupted by a knock on your door. You trip over yourself as you rush to your dresser, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before peering through the peephole.

Sure enough, there he stands, he looks exactly like you’d left him, shirt untucked and askew, hair a mess, except now his hand isn’t in his pants. You’re about to reach over and turn your lamp off when he clears his throat.

“I know you’re in there, your car was out front.” Well, so much for pretending you aren’t home. You hesitantly unlock the door before pulling it open, plastering a scowl on your face.

“What do you want?” You try to look stern but you know you probably just look nervous.

“I just wanna talk.”

You’re hesitant but you open the door fully, letting him in as you return to your bed, sitting and pointing at the loveseat in the corner for him. Neither one of you speaks, you watch as his throat bobs, he won’t look at you, staring at his hands instead.

“How did you get my address?” You finally break the silence.

“Your file.” He says sheepishly.

“You can’t do that! That’s an invasion of my privacy!”

“That’s what you wanna be mad about?” Fair enough.

“Fine, why did you do it?” You don’t like that he’s here, in your tiny apartment, the memory of him splayed out in his chair takes up all the space.

“Which part?” He finally looks up at you, meeting your gaze.

“Why did you read it?”

“I was curious.” He looks truly apologetic, it almost makes you want to believe him.

“Really?” Your tone drips with sarcasm.

“You seemed really defensive, I wanted to see why.” It seems genuine but you know better.

“You wanted to embarrass me.” You say plainly.

“Why do you act like I’m out to get you?” His brows furrow and his mouth settles into a frown.

“Because you are.” You say it matter of factly, you honestly can’t believe he’s acting like he doesn’t know.

“I don’t understand what I did that makes you hate me so much.” You’re tempted to soften your gaze, but the last thing you need to do if this is all just some trick is appear vulnerable.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Please, enlighten me.” He throws his hands up in exasperation.

“You despise me! You torment me every single day!”

“Really? I torment you?” He points an accusatory finger in your direction.

“You make me do your paperwork every single time, even when there are plenty of other people who are capable of it.” You feel the urge to stand and have this argument, you’re getting heated in several ways now.

“You do it better than everyone else.” He shrugs like it’s a valid excuse.

“Bullshit.” You snark as he puts his head in his hands.

“And I like the excuse to see you.” He mumbles before looking back up at him.

“You make fun of how I dress.” You’re quick to change the subject, not wanting to fall victim to his charms.

“I do not.” His voice pitches up defensively.

“You said I dress like your grandma.”

“That was a compliment.” He can’t be serious.

“How the fuck is that a compliment?”

“I love my grandma very much.” He sounds serious.

“You’re a nightmare.” You fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your head swimming with confusion.

“Have you ever considered that I just wanted to be around you? You assume that I just liked to bother you but maybe I just like being near you.” He stands as you sit up, a look of honest upset on his face.

“You expect me to believe that you did those things because you like me? Are we in middle school, Peña? You could have just asked me out instead of pulling my pigtails on the playground.” You stand, not liking the power imbalance of having him towering over you where you sit.

“I did, you said no.” He crosses his arms and you scoff.

“You did not, you can’t just make things up to get out of this conversation.” You poke a finger into his chest but he just brushes it away.

“I asked you out to lunch two weeks ago and you said no.”

“I think I would remember that if it happened.” His anger fizzles out a bit as he looks you up and down.

“I may or may not have thrown your lunch out that day so you’d be more likely to accept.” He gives you a sheepish look. “But you were so mad you brushed it off.”

“That was a serious offer? I thought you were messing with me.” He just stares at you, wide puppy dog eyes you have to turn away from lest you fall for this act. You don’t get a moment's rest though because as you stare at the floor a particularly harrowing thought crosses your mind.

“How much did you read?” You turn back to him quickly.

“Enough.” When you turn back to him he’s staring at his hands again.

You both know what that means.

“It seemed a little familiar.” He says softly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You want him out, now.

“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about.” You’re going to look at job listings once he goes home.

“I think you should leave.” You clear your throat, nodding towards the door.

“I’m not leaving until we talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You sit back down on your bed, your legs feeling unsteady.

“Well I do.” He takes a few steps in your direction and you immediately regret sitting.

“I don’t care what you want, get out of my apartment, now.” You head is tilted up completely as you glare at him.

“Do you really not realize exactly what is happening here?” You can feel his breath on your face, cigarettes and spearmint. You turn your head to the side, refusing to look at him.

This is exactly what happens in your story.

“You’re an idiot.” You whisper, willing yourself not to get any more upset than you already are.

“You wrote your story about us.” He says each word sharply as you grit your teeth.

“I did not.” Now who’s just making things up to get out of a conversation?

“Everything that I did to you, he does to her.”

You don’t have a response to that. What are you supposed to say? He’s right, straight down to the confrontation where he tells her he wants her and she tells him that can’t be possible. He hates her.

He kneels in front of the bed, moving to be in your eye line and when you go to turn your head he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“I really did like your story.” You shove his hand away as he says it.

“Don’t mock me.”

“Jesus, what do I have to do to make you realize I don’t have an ounce of contempt for you?” He stands, throwing his hands up in defeat.

You finally snap.

“Maybe stop taking my shit and stop giving me extra work and stop invading my privacy and just fucking talk to me like an adult, you arrogant, immature, son of a-“ He grabs your face in both of his hands as he leans down and crashes his lips against yours, you let out a surprised squeak as he cups your jaw. After a moment he pulls back and you’re left staring at him dumbfounded.

“Now, can we please talk about it?” He mumbles before pulling you in again for a single chaste kiss.

“Okay.” You feel a little breathless at the abruptness of his actions.

“I really liked it.” He smiles now, the energy in the room changing drastically.

“You keep saying that.” You whisper.

“It’s true.”

“Wanna give me some constructive criticism?” You laugh but you can see his eyes flicker to the ceiling quickly and suddenly you want to press further.

“You know you quoted me word for word a couple of times.”

“You’re avoiding the question.” You laugh again but now you’re genuinely curious.

“I guess I thought the sex scenes were the tiniest bit unrealistic.”

“Unrealistic?” You feign offense.

“Well yeah I mean, it’s written like you’ve never had sex. They go at it all night and he never needs any breaks? And doesn’t she have like twenty orgasms? I’m pretty sure she’d be in terrible pain at that point.” He laughs softly but when you furrow your brows he stops. “I assumed because it’s fantasy that that’s intentional though.” He adds on quickly at the end.

Your embarrassment is clear on your face as his own expression goes to one of poorly concealed surprise.

“You’ve never-” He whispers, clearly shocked.

“I’ve never.” You finish his sentence, not wanting to hear it out loud.

“I mean, that’s fine.” His ears are burning red.

“I know it’s fine.” You mumble. “I’ve had opportunities to, I just… I don’t know, I guess I made it too big of a deal in my mind and now I just don’t care but I’ve waited this long and-”

“Cariña, it’s fine.” He interrupts you now, that soft smile on his face never wavering.

“Do you think my writing would be better if I had more experience?” You say it like it’s a joke but he sees right through you.

“I’m not sure, how much experience do you have just in general?” He stands, moving to sit beside you on the bed.

“Well I’ve kissed people before.”

“That’s it?” You glare at him and he coughs nervously. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”

“I’ve been busy with work, it's just, it’s never been a priority of mine.”

“You do know… how to do it? Right?” You smack him on the arm.

“Of course I know how to do it, you read my stuff.”

“That’s why I’m asking.”

“Oh come on, you said it was good!”

“It is good! Everything but the dirty stuff is really good!” You groan, putting your head in your hands, he sits quietly beside you for a bit, rubbing your back.

“Do you want me to teach you?” He says lightheartedly.

“Seriously?” You glare at him.

“It’s the least I can do for unintentionally making your work life hell.” He’s starting to sound more genuine in his over, it sends a chill down your spine.

“So what? We just… do it?” You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the idea of losing it to someone who knows what he’s doing.

“No we don’t ‘just do it.’ we do other stuff first.” He sounds amused but you’re glad he doesn’t outright laugh at you.

“Can you just- can you just tell me what to do?” You rest your head on his shoulder briefly and he runs his fingers through your hair.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes please.” You mumble, feeling a strange mix of aroused and nervous.

“Well, in one of the later chapters she blows him, right?” You nod slowly. “And you say it’s her first time doing it, she probably shouldn’t have been able to just take all of him in her mouth right off the get go, especially since he’s apparently nine inches? Which is a whole separate issue by the way.” You can feel your face getting hot all over again as he explains everything like it’s obvious. “If you want to start there we can do that.” He murmurs, trying to meet your gaze but you just keep trying to look anywhere else.

“How big is it supposed to be normally?” You chew on your lip, hoping you don’t sound stupid, you couldn’t be more thankful when he once again doesn’t laugh.

“It depends, but nine inches is a bit outlandish. Have you ever actually looked at that on a ruler? It’s way bigger than you think.” He holds out the estimated size with his hands and you have to stifle a giggle.

“Fair enough.” You lean against him one last time before sliding off the bed, kneeling in front of him. “So she’s like this.” You watch his throat bob as he swallows harshly, everything is starting to quickly become real as he nods. You reach your hands towards the noticeably larger bulge in his strict jeans, stopping just before you touch him. “Can I?”

“Yeah, of course.” With his approval you gingerly unzip the restrictive fabric, watching his half hard dick spring free. He’s certainly not nine inches but he’s still intimidating. You don’t have a frame of reference but you have to assume he’s on the bigger side of things.

“You don’t wear underwear?” You scoff, trying to lighten the mood despite the combined anxiety and arousal pulsing through you right now.

“Not usually.” He murmurs, notably softer than before.

“What do I do first?”

“If you want, you can start by touching it, just do what feels right.” He reaches down to hold your face for a moment until you’re able to calm down a bit. You reach forward at a snail's pace until finally wrapping a hand around the base, jumping a bit as you feel him twitch against your palm. You slowly stroke him, just once before looking up at him, a reassuring smile on his face as you stroke him a few more times, feeling him swell until he stands fully erect. Almost absentmindedly your other hand drifts between your legs, you experimentally grind against your own hand as you continue to leisurely jerk him off, watching how he grips the sheets when you run your thumb over his drooling tip.

“What do I do next?” You look up at him.

“Spit on it, hermosa.” His voice is raspy and you sit up on your knees, a line of spit falling from your mouth onto the head of his cock, drawing a hiss past his teeth. It’s easier to stroke him when it’s wet, you experiment with different speeds, watching his reactions until in a moment of bravery you tentatively guide him into your mouth. You can’t help but feel pleased when his hand instinctively flies to your hair, not moving you in any direction, just holding you. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the bitter pre-cum as you open your jaw a bit wider, letting him slide over your tongue. As you take him deeper you feel him against your throat and you quickly gag, coughing a bit as he gently pulls you off. “Go slow, don’t take more than you’re able to.” You cough again, catching your breath before taking him in your mouth again, slower this time. “Use your hands on the rest.” He murmurs, the low tone shoots through you and you quickly go back to touching yourself with one hand while using the other to stroke the half of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth.

After a few minutes you begin to moan against him as you try to reach your own peak, your hand now haphazardly shoved down the front of your pants. He’s leaning back, his pupils pitch black as he watches you, his breathing unsteady.

“You think you’re ready for more?” He says sweetly, caressing your hair. You pop off of him, watching a line of spit going from the head of his cock to your lips.

“Sure.” You feel less nervous than you thought you’d be as you stand up, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. You feel all fuzzy and slick between your legs, your pussy aches with need as he takes your hand, pulling you onto the bed with him. You sit up against the headboard as he strips completely, discarding his shirt and shoving his pants all the way down.

You can’t help but take in the sight of him as he turns back to you.

His warm sun kissed skin, the wide expanse of his shoulders a sharp ratio to his slim waist. He’s toned but he’s soft around the edges and his cock stands proud against the thatch of hair on his lower abdomen. You tilt your head the way it curves, admiring it until he laughs.

“I want you to do something for me that wasn’t in the story.” He climbs back into bed with you, playing with the waistband of your sweats.

“Sure, what is it?” You lift your hips, letting him pull them down, tossing them off the bed.

“I want you to show me how you touch yourself.” You stare at him, a little shocked by the request, your eyes going wide.

“Why?”

“I want to see, I want you to show me what feels good.” You want to feel more self conscious but he’s completely naked and something about the fact that you’re still a little covered up helps you relax, with a soft sigh you gingerly slip your hand down the front of your panties. You go off of muscle memory, recalling what you would do if he wasn’t here.

Tracing your fingers in delicate circles around your clit, watching as he begins to touch himself, almost matching your pace. This would have been a fantasy of yours that you’d resort to when nothing else worked. Javier Peña in your bed, revealing some sort of secret attraction to you, you just never thought it would ever come to fruition.

But here he is.

Ravaging you with his eyes as you dip two fingers into yourself with a shuddering breath, his own movements stuttering a bit as you do so. With everything leading up to this it isn’t hard to feel the familiar heat building as you expertly push yourself towards it. After a few moments more you shove your panties down completely, wanting to be unencumbered as you discard them. Without them restricting you, you can easily feel that hot tightening sensation approaching rapidly. Your breathing gets heavy as you grind your fingers against your palm, you feel the familiar fiery sensation in the bottom of your stomach as you start haphazardly fucking your own hand, you keep your eyes on the way he fucks his own until you’re just about to burst and he takes hold of your wrist, stopping you.

“Please I-” You let out a frustrated whine but he shushes you with a quick peck.

“I know, can I do it?” You nod frantically, you��d like nothing more. He gently pushes two fingers into you, you gasp in surprise at the sudden stretch as he slides them in and out slowly, continuing to jerk himself off with his other hand as he watches how you eagerly suck him in.

It doesn’t take much from there.

His thumb mirrors the motions you did against your clit and that’s all he has to do to push you over the edge. Your cunt spasming around his fingers as he works you through your orgasm, hot white burns the edges of your vision and you keep your eyes open long enough to watch as he squeezes the base of his own cock, groaning as he makes his own attempts not to finish. You're vaguely aware of him murmuring something that sounds like praise in Spanish as you get your bearings, he slowly removes his fingers, leaning forward on his knees to kiss you. You catch your breath through the kiss until finally he pulls back.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” His breathing heavy as he nudges his forehead against yours.

“Is it gonna hurt?” You’re more curious than nervous at this point.

“It shouldn’t, and if it does I’ll stop, okay?” He hops off the bed for a moment, searching through his wallet before tossing you a condom.

“Okay.”

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” You carefully tear open the condom wrapper, handing him the rubber ring with a nod, watching how he aptly rolls it onto his cock.

“Probably wouldn’t have come this far if I didn’t.” You slide down the bed a bit so you’re mostly laying on your pillows as he positions himself on top of you. He still seems worried about you so you reach forward, taking his cock in your hand and guiding him between your legs.

You can’t help but sharply inhale as he eases just the tip into you, your eyes flutter shut and your mouth opens slightly as you sigh.

God, you wish you’d done this sooner.

It doesn’t hurt. You expected a stinging, or a tearing, instead it’s just pressure. When you open your eyes you find his squeezed shut now as he slowly works himself into you, rocking slowly back and forth. He keeps your foreheads pressed together, occasionally, bumping his nose against yours.

“Still good?” He whispers, a noticeable strain to his voice. You nod, watching curiously as he pushes his hips forward in one last motion to fully seat himself in your heat. His jaw is tense and he’s breathing through his teeth. “So fucking tight.” He mumbles before leaning forward, groaning into your mouth.

“Does it hurt?” You ask when he pulls himself away with a soft smile.

“No, it just makes me worried about hurting you.”

“I’m okay, I want you to move.” You look down to where the two of you are joined. Watching how he gently pulls himself from you just a bit before pushing back in. That’s when he bumps against that spot inside of you that suddenly has you seeing stars, your hands grip his shoulders as a moan slips out of you, the grin you’ve seen a hundred times before forms on his face, you’d once hated it but now it has you gushing around him.

“Does that feel good?” He tilts his head to the side, nudging his nose against your temple as you nod fervently. He repeats the motion, pulling out about halfway before snapping his hips forward again, your back arching when he slams into the sweet spot inside of you.

“Fuck- Peña, right there.” You whine, your nails leaving little crescent indents in the tan flesh of his shoulders. He gets into a steady rhythm with it, crashing into you with precise deliberate strokes, designed to make your head spin. He grits his teeth once more, his breath going ragged.

“Javier.” He pants, gripping your waist to hold you still. For a brief moment you almost see vulnerability in his eyes.

“Just like that, Javier.” You stammer out as he bends one of your legs up, pressing you into the mattress further as he throws your ankle over his shoulder, the new angle letting him fuck far deeper into you than you even thought possible. The soft and slow Javier starts to dissipate as he bares his teeth, his breath hot and heavy through his tense jaw as he slams into you. The second orgasm building in your stomach isn’t like anything you’ve ever felt before, it’s molten inside of you, threatening to burst as he brings a hand to your clit.

“Shit- tell me when you’re close.” He growls, your vision’s already blurring again as an unfamiliar pressure settles within you.

“I- I am.” You pant out, he accentuates each thrust with a grunt and you feel yourself slip as he applies the slightest pressure to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re positive you’ve never come like this before, you soak his cock, a flood of your release pulses out of you as you strangle his cock. He collapses into you, your orgasm sending him over his own edge. You feel him throbbing within you as he groans into the pillow next to you. The two of you lay in a sweaty, breathless heap for a moment until he pulls out of you with a hiss, rolling over, his chest heaving as he lays beside you.

“Now do you believe that I don’t hate you?” He gasps out.

“I might need a little more convincing.” You grin, reaching behind you to turn your lamp off before rolling yourself over so you're on top of him.

a/n : I have a very serious love hate relationship w this.

#lincolndjarin #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #javier peña / reader #javier pena smut

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astralnymphh · 8 months

Text

patterned palmistry ⋆ | ellie williams headcanons

༺ ellie x witch!reader headcanons/scenarios ༻ ☽𖤐☾

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

an: being the witchy little gremlin i am i just had to throw some hcs together for myself but ofc i'd share them here🙄ive been practicing witchcraft since i was 15 so it felt fitting to incorporate it whenever i brace my delusions at the bootycrack of midnight that r all abt ellie 💀 regardless this def isnt gonna be my only witchy hcs post i just didnt wanna spoil all my ideas right away <3 tags: MDNI, slight nsfw (no detailed smut), boob jokes, witchcraft (obv), tarot, palm reading, mostly convos, flirting, not mentioned in the writing but u 2 r alrdy dating, playful bickering, more natural casual writing with some bigger words, no specific religion tied to the practice, generally a fluff piece, lowk cute moments. °________________________⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆__________________________°

I. ☆ ellie definitely had a peak in curiosity the first time you mentioned you immerse yourself in the world of the craft, her ears perked figuratively and were tuned in to learn what that entails. she may not forfeit a nip of skepticism right away but she's more than happy to engross herself in the idea of it. you'd stay up till first light rambling on about the 'rituals', 'divination', the history tied to it and why you practice it. you'd be lying in bed adjacent to her, heavenward to the ceiling, but interwoven in a warm and loving cuddle with her palm residing on your lap whilst you chatted.

"mmmmh-" ellie's hum churns 'round your bedroom, "so that's why you collect rocks."

"crystals."

"same thing," she drones an inwardly giggle, "which crystal will give me superpowers?" a witty remark springs from her tongue.

"babe.." you pout, acting offended yet none is taken.

"didn't mean it like that, y'know I believe you, it's all just new to me." ellie tapes an assuring kiss to your temple, "tell me about your favorite crystals, hmm?"

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

II. ☆ now because of this, anytime you're out on patrol and delight the opportunity of scavenging, she always keeps in mind to find you flowers, rocks, unused candles and other oddities of nature.

"hey babe! I found a black candle for'ya." ellie bolstered a long glass cylinder filled with an opaque charcoal wax, wick still intact, "and- ..some wild lavender." her other arm swings from behind her back, twines of dusty purple lavender upheld in a pinch.

"fuck yeah, needed this stuff.." you graciously tweak the lavender from her, whiffing up its poignant scent.

"always on the lookout.." her voice resembles her proud countenance outwards, essentially, a dorky smirk.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

III. ☆ obviously, the second you mentioned the art of tarot to her, she begged for a reading. whenever a card flew from your shuffling motions, she'd patiently wait for you to place it before her and then she'd swipe it up and admire the art piece detailing the cardstock.

"whew! look at the boobs on this one!"

"oh- my god, of course you'd point that out." you snatch the card from her, shamelessly ogling the nude depiction that had her attention.

"you're looking at them too!"

"cuz' you said something 'bout it!" you flick the card towards her face, noting, "those are some nice boobs though."

"why thank you~"

"wasn't talking about you, idiot!"

"eh, but.. urs' are the best." her hoarse tone binds a nonchalant flirtiness in its rumble.

"oh really? should we compare the.. four?"

that really stole her attention.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

IV. ☆ the first time you entertained her with a palm reading, it had her all dappy and touched to the essence at the paltry contact you made with her hand. your fingerprints drafting her calloused palms with such a gentle focus on every river lining her hand. she just wanted to smother you with kisses.

"and… this is your heart line." your finger hovers the crevice of her palm-pads stretching from index to pinkie, "ah.. it's a broken one.."

"is that.. bad?" her juniper eyes study your expression meticulously.

"it just means u're closed off, stubborn, have some emotional trauma.. stuff like that." you mindlessly fiddle with her fingers, "lines can change though, so.."

she nods, taking in the insight. she licks her slightly chapped lips clean, "am I stubborn?" her voice rises partially an octave, bending playfulness in her question.

"mm.. no."

"why'd you hesitate?"

"well- the only times ur' stubborn is refusing to let go whenever you hug me- ur' a life-size sloth!"

"I like huggin' you though." a puppy pout frowns on her lips, "you're like a pillow!"

and oh, how your heart capers a beat, "is that all I am, williams?"

her swift speech conjuncts, "whaddid' I say about that name?!"

"I don't know, I think you like it."

"nuh-uh I don't!"

you pepper a haste kiss to her knuckles still forcepped in your clasp, totally deterring the crime you've just committed when a half impish half taken aback smile creaks her lips.

"c'mere." vaults from her tongue before she lunges her body forward and tackles you in a saucy position riddled with love bites. guess you'll be reading her palms in a different way tonight.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ V. ☆ an bonus hc, you'd totally mention out of the void about her tattoo n the mystic meanings surrounding moths, like, its for sure one of the topics you'll ramble about one night cause you just feel so wise for knowing. "y'know, moths play a pretty large role in the metaphysical world." "really? i mean, i knew they had some kind of.. 'symbolism' to them-" ellie's hand rolls over the knoll of her forearm, reading the bumps glamoured in that beautiful inking. "yeah, like- luna moths represent transformation, renewal.. oh! and death-head moths are an omen of death.. an- and black witch moths mean either good luck, or bad-" ellie is amused at your prattle shown by her raspy giggles, legitimately having to conceal her scrunched face. "what?" "nothin' you- you're just so cute." "stop.." the embarrassment catches up to you, now having to hide your face to the shadows beneath your hands. her finger cranes out to hook and uncover your nerdy grin, assuring, "never stop tellin' me bout this stuff, ok babe?" a wide delighted beam syncs on her cheeks. goddess above, her dimples and nasal lines are to die for. ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

𖤐

in general; she's a curious dork n will ask you oh so many questions, i mean, she loves space and a futuristic sci-fi comic for crying out loud, she's alrdy so imaginative so ofc she'd be open to a realistic amount. she'd also be so respectful and helpful n defend ur practice with so much love. maybe she'd pick up some little traditions and customs like folding letters a specific amount of times, drawing little pentacles, mixing liquid in specific directions, just the simple things that grow on her.

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie williams fic #ellie williams smut #lesbian #sapphic #ellie williams headcanons #ellie smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x witch #ellie headcanons #tlou headcanons

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togrowoldinv · 11 months

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Storms Rolling In

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

You have a family tradition when the weather outside gets messy

Note: This is veryyyy soft. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

“Mama?” Your youngest daughter gets Natasha’s attention. She puts down the paperwork she’s working on and looks to her little girl.

“What’s up, buttercup?” She asks.

“I’m not a buttercup,” the little girl replies. “I’m Taylor!”

“Oh! Silly me,” Natasha says, a chuckle escaping her lips. “What’s up, Taylor?”

“It’s getting scary outside,” Taylor answers. The girl crawls into Natasha’s arms. She buries her face in Nat’s chest.

“It’s okay, malyshka. Let’s call Mommy and see if she’s still out. She might get us a special treat, how does that sound?” Natasha says.

She feels a nod against her chest and grabs her phone. Nat clicks on your contact, a photo of you and her from your first date because she loves it, and the line rings.

“Hey babe,” you answer quickly. “What’s up?”

“Well, we were wondering if you’re still at the store,” Natasha answers.

“I actually just left, but I can go back. What do we need?”

Nat pulls the phone away from her face and turns it on speaker. “Taylor, if you want a treat we have to ask Mommy.”

“Oh hello Taylor!” You say into the phone.

“Hi,” comes a small little voice. “It’s storming. Can we get ice cream please?“

“Hmm, I think so yes. Good thing I read your mind and I already bought some,” you tell them.

“Really?” Her voice lights up.

“Oh yeah. Your favorite kind,” you say.

“Yay!” Taylor shouts. She hops off Nat’s lap and is seemingly less worried about the weather at the prospect of ice cream.

“You win for the day,” Natasha says to you.

“I try,” you reply. “I’ll be home in ten, my love.”

“Drive safe, babe.”

Nat hangs up the phone and finishes up her work quickly before you get home.

When you pull in the driveway, she yells up the stairs, “Mom’s home. Come help with groceries! All of you, even you Ivan!”

Your son has a tendency to be ‘in the bathroom’ when the groceries arrive so he can’t help.

Ali trods down the stairs with Belle on her back piggy back style.

“Bad idea, kiddo,” Nat says, but she shakes her head with affection.

Jack follows with Taylor by his side and Ivan is last.

“Last but not least, right?” The boy says. He’s witty and confident, a lot like Natasha.

They all greet you at the car and help unload the groceries.

“Hey there,” you greet your wife. She drops a soft kiss to your lips.

You encourage everyone to move quickly before the rain begins. Just in time, the last bag is brought into the house.

“Hey, not so fast!” You stop the kids from retreating. “Let’s work together and put these away.”

“Why?” Ali groans out.

“Ice cream, that’s why,” you say. None of the kids argue with that reasoning.

So, you all work together and the rain continues outside. Thunder rumbles and the younger kids panic. Luckily the older ones come to their rescue and distract them the best they can.

You and Natasha work on making ice cream bowls for the kids. Casual conversation ensues.

“Did you get your work done?” You ask Nat.

“Yeah, but I need to look back over it. Baby girl distracted me a bit,” Nat admits.

“Of course she did,” you say, laughing at how much Nat gets distracted by the kids.

“How was the store?”

“Boring,” you say. “You better go with me next time.”

“I will,” she says.

Natasha puts whip cream on the ice cream and she sprays some in her mouth in the process.

“Natasha,” you scold her. “We get onto Ivan for doing that all the time!”

“Yeah, but I’m allowed to. I’m the mom,” Nat says. “Plus, he didn’t see it.”

“I did!” Ivan peeps his head in the kitchen. “Which means I get to do it now.”

“No it doesn’t!”

“Come here, Ives!” Nat says at the same time. She stands on her tippy toes and sprays the whip cream in his mouth.

You can’t help but smile at the interaction as he hugs both you and Natasha.

“While you’re here, help us carry these,” you tell him.

The three of you take the ice cream into the living room where the kids have built a fort out of pillows and blankets.

“Can we come in?” You ask. The blankets open and they let you in.

“Ice cream!” Taylor says as you hand her a bowl. “Thanks!”

“Yeah, thanks Moms,” Jack adds.

You all settle in and snuggle under the blankets until the storm passes. You couldn’t ask for a better life.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort

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beelzeballing · 6 months

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actually i dont think ive posted my thoughts on ofmd s2 overall here yet have i?

ok here goes: i think it had incredibly high highs, and at some parts i genuinely enjoyed it more than i did the first season, episode 6 being peak imo. however, it had equally abysmal lows with some glaring writing-, tone- and pacing issues that all came to a head in the finale.

i once read someone say that, if you ever feel like a finale ruined the whole story, maybe you should take another look at the story. there were most likely cracks and problems all along, and the finale did nothing besides dashing the hope that these would perhaps be addressed later. very rarely do genuinely well written stories go completely off the rails in the finale and ruin the whole thing.

i think this is applicable here in some ways, SPECIFICALLY in regards to edward. good god edward was a MESS this season, and it's so sad because i loved the starting point! the kraken era was absolutely terrifying and iconic as FUCK but... they shouldn't have leaned so hard into the drama and trauma of it all. don't get me wrong, i loved that it did. it's one of my favorite parts of the season and i'm so glad we got it. but if they wanted this arc to work with the overarching plot as they wrote it, they would've had to lighten up the tone here CONSIDERABLY. had they played the kraken era for comedy then sure! edward's bad youtuber apology would've been funny. his fast redemption would've been less jarring. the lack of consequences less disturbing. but as it stands in the show, this arc is too dark to function with the later episodes.

i feel like they wanted to have their cake and eat it too here. they wanted the gritty drama of ed coming off the hinges entirely but also didn't want to deal with the aftermath of such a heavy arc in their silly pirate romcom. be that due to time constraints and budget cuts or because they were simply unwilling to, doesn't really matter in the end. the result is the same either way: a very tonally messy season with some accidentally troubling implications regarding abuse.

and mentioning troubling implications regarding abuse; izzy. my poor, poor izzy... his arc was absolutely glorious. i liked izzy the second he showed up in s1 and i was absolutely EATING this season up in that regard. and i think in this case, they genuinely did fuck it all up in the finale with that one stupid choice:

choosing to kill izzy was the DUMBEST thing they couldve done here.

ive talked about this over and over and over again. ive reblogged so many meta posts. and still i am left absolutely flabbergasted by how stupid of a decision this was. the fridging, playing at the fallen woman trope, killing the beating heart of the season and the character who delivers what is essentially a thesis statement, killing off the character whose arc is about coming to terms with his disability, having him die in edward's arms, comforting him and apologizing after an entire season of finding community and love outside of edward, the absolutely godawful pacing of it all, the extremely easy and obvious solution of just having IZZY become the new captain of the revenge to mirror s1 and hammer home how much he has developed since then in one go... i could go on. and i have. it was a stupid writing decision, completely fucked the tone and pacing of the finale and took away attention and time from things that really would've deserved a better wrap up (lucius and black pete deserved better)

now. the whole prince ricky & zheng plot line... yeah that shit sucked ass, sorry. they bit off more than they could chew here. i honestly think those are the arc words of this season:

✨️ bit off more than they could chew ✨️

right off the bat: i think he was good as a concept. bringing in a foil for stede who just doesn't Get It as stede does could've made for very good comedy and drama (and to be fair there is some of that). but that shit got away from them extremely quickly. nothing about how he's implemented past his first episode works, and i think this is very specifically because he's mostly played as the comic relief in his debut episode. making this completely bumbling fool, who gets his nose hacked off on his first job, the main villain of your entire season is... definitely a choice. idk. he didn't work for me at all.

ok wow mentioning shit getting away from the writers. this definitely got away from me. this was supposed to be a short lil post. well. i guess tl;dr i loved this season but jesus christ there was a lot wrong with it. if you want to hear more thoughts. ask box is open. be my guest. i have more to say so even if you dont ask i might add more to this at some point but im tired and have work tmrw.

#i was going to do shit today and now look at me.#0:18 at night #laying in bed #writing this shit #i havent even eaten.#christtttt #moogsin'#ofmd #izzy hands #our flag means death #ofmd meta #ofmd critical #ofmd s2 #ofmd spoilers #the izcourse #im not tagging any of the other characters cuz i shittalk all of them 😭#listen i love edward hes my babygirl but this season did him DIRTY.

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outofmydepthatapublicbeach · 2 months

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to fall in deeper - Julien Baker x lacy!reader

jj chats: this has been one of the longest things ive written on this account and i am very proud of it!!! i hope this lives up to any expectations!!! also i recommend reading the first part before reading this it is linked here!

word count: almost 2000!!!

warnings: RPF, use of y/n, reader is a musician/famous, julien is kinda mean, someone passes out (not the reader, the boys or muna), reader calls julien 'jay'.

inspired by the request: i lovvved your love Julien fic based on lacy SO much!!! you’re crazy talented <3 would you consider writing more parts of it? 🎀🩷 like maybe how julien falls more and more in love and maybe an eventual angry love confession from julien, and their first date/kiss?

feedback is encouraged and i'd love to get some just please be kind!!!

When MUNA went on tour, they asked their dear friends to perform as openers. It was on billboards and spread across social media: “Boygenius and (Y/N): openers for The Greatest Band in the World”. All parties were ebullient, another few months of music, laughter, and fun. Everyone except Julien Baker, Julien wasn’t pleased when she found out you were the other opener. She despised the feeling she got in her gut when your name was mentioned, she couldn’t decide what it meant. She was torn between it being contempt or admiration. She didn’t like not knowing, she didn’t like the fact she couldn’t figure you out, let alone figure out her own feelings for you.

So far the tour had been faring well. There were huge crowds showing up every night, all screaming out the lyrics to their favorite MUNA hits. Everything was going well, until August 6th, a Friday night. It was exceptionally hot and it was starting to take a toll on the musicians. However they were all pushing through, they had loud fans backstage that gave them some relief from the heat and could basically get away with no shirt on stage. So far, the night was going well, besides the heat. Lucy and Julien sat in front of a large fan, while Phoebe and you stood in front of another one. MUNA was performing on stage, while you all waited until the last song, “Silk Chiffon” . It was always a nice surprise to the fans when you four came bobbing up on stage singing along, dancing with one another.

Phoebe sighed, turning towards you “Want to go back with me to get some water?”

Your eyes darted to the right, where your water bottle stood proud and tall, still about half full. “No Pheobs I’m okay! I’ll walk with you though!”

“Oh no dude you’re good,” The platinum blond turned to Lucy and proposed the same question.

“Yeah my water ran out like 5 minutes ago,” Lucy hopped up from her seat, moving towards an already upright Phoebe who was wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, sweat droplets rolling off. “Be right back guys!”

Before they turned the corner you checked the time and yelled to the singers “I think there's only two more songs till Silk Chiffon so hurry!” Lucy and Phoebe nodded to you and continued their walk to wherever they were storing the water bottles. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Julien rolling her eyes.

You turned your body to hers, you ignored her obvious irritation towards you and smiling you asked, “You good Julien? I got some water if you need it!”

“Yeah I’m fine. Thanks.” The tattooed woman replied, curtly.

“Ohhhkay,” you said, confused by her tone. You thought for a minute going back over the day to see if you did anything that would warrant that reaction. You couldn’t find anything, but you did remember how Julien really hadn’t ever been that cordial to you, not since that night outside the restaurant where she found you crying. In a moment of panic you asked the woman sitting 5 feet from you, “Did I do something?”

Julien turned towards you, obviously dumbstruck by your question. She hesitated before responding, you could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes, “No, you didn’t do anything.”

Quickly you replied, desperate to figure out where you went wrong. “You act weird around me.”

You could see a flash of panic move over Julien;s face before it was replaced with a look of annoyance. “How do I act weird around you?” Julien asked as if it was the most absurd sentence you could have chosen to have said.

“You don’t talk to me ever, you avoid me, you don’t reply to my texts in the groupchat. Yesterday on stage you avoided me every chance you got. I get that we aren’t really close but do you have to pretend like I’m not even there? Like I don’t even matter?” Your voice started to strain towards the end of your dialogue, you could feel your eyes start to water.

“I-I don’t-”

Julien was cut off by a very energetic Phoebe who came skipping backstage. “We’re on stage in like a minute guys! Grab your mics!”

You quickly got up, blinking back your tears as you approached a table, grabbing a mic. You settled your breathing as Lucy came up to you. “You okay?” She asked, voice laced with worry.

“Mhm! I’m fine! I think the heat is just getting to me!” You replied, your voice steady. You’re honestly surprised at how fast you pulled yourself together.

MUNA was on stage finishing up their second to last song for the night when Katie yelled into her microphone, “Thank you all for such a gorgeous night! We have one last song! Can you all welcome our guests to the stage please?” The crowd begins to go crazy.

One by one the 4 of you run out on stage as the band starts playing “Silk Chiffon”. Your eyes scan over the crowd, everyone is having an amazing time, they all look tired, but in a euphoric concert driven tiredness. Until you spot one girl near the front of the barricade. She looks as if she's about to pass out, and the people around her don’t seem to notice. You brush it off, but decide to keep an eye on her just in case something happens.

As the band starts to play the music fills your body, heating your veins with electricity. You move the mic to your mouth as you sing background for Katie. This was always one of your favorite parts of the show, the harmony between all of your voices, the feeling of being alive and showing it through music. Phoebe rushes up to you and grabs your wrist, twirling you around and smiling wide at you. She leans in and gives you a kiss on your cheek before your bodies find natural sync, dancing together. Everything always gets too chaotic when the 7 of you are all on stage. AS your eyes move from Phoebes to the rest of the talent on stage you spot Julien glaring at you, your cheeks redden and you can’t distinguish whether it's from the heat or the shorter woman's dangerous stare.

Suddenly you remember that girl in the audience and when you look back to her place, you see her almost going limp, merely held up by the sweating bodies around her. Immediately your mind moves fast, remembering your highschool first aid lessons on heat stroke. Your brain quickly runs down her obvious symptoms and realizes it could be severe dehydration or worse, heat stroke. You quickly let go of Phoebe's arm and run backstage to grab a water bottle and someone to help you.

Phoebe is confused, her eyes follow you backstage until she sees you grab a bottle of water. Too caught up in the moment she thinks you need a drink. She assumes nothing is wrong and then goes over to Jo to dance with her. The others don't realize your absence, too caught up in the song. Except Julien.

Julien was keeping a close eye on you when you were on stage, she saw every time you glanced at that specific spot in the barricade. Though she didn’t follow you, not until you suddenly appeared on the lawn in front of the stage with a medical professional and a security guard.

You run to the dehydrated woman and then help her get to a cooler spot, and give her small sips of water to hydrate her. You couldn’t care less about the concert at that point, too concentrated on making sure this person was alright.

Julien’s stomach started to churn, once again you were proving to her that you were perfect. There wasn’t anything Julien could flaw you on at this point. You stopped singing in the middle of a concert to go and take care of someone in need. How could she avoid her true feelings now?

The song came to a close, and the bands lined up, wrapping their arms around each other's waists and bowing. Naomi, Jo and Katie blew kisses to the crowd and then they all walked offstage, a concert well performed.

As Phoebe looked backstage she didn’t see you. She turned to the group and asked, “Did anyone see where (Y/N) went?”

It came as a surprise to everyone when Julien answered, “They went to help someone in the audience, I saw them with medical.”

Everyone nodded, Jo hoped the person was okay. Katie and Naomi went to ask someone about what had happened. It wasn’t soon after that you showed up.

Walking back to where you had just appeared from, Naomi and Katie both asked you “What happened?”

You told them that “Some girl in the barricade got really dehydrated and passed out, but she’s alright now!”

A sigh of relief was heard from all 6 people, relieved that everyone was okay. Small chit chat was made until Jo spoke up “Okay I don’t know about you guys but it is hot as hell out here and I am going somewhere with air conditioning!”

“Finally someone said it!”

“Thank god I was starting to think I’d melt,”

Naomi, Katie, Lucy, and Phoebe dispersed after Jo, all talking about some record they’d listened to recently or where to get takeout from.

Julien stayed behind, and just as you were about to follow after the others she caught your arm. You turned towards her, “What’s up Jay?” The nickname leaves your lips in a second before you could think to not say it.

Julien looked at you strangely and let go of your arm, not really realizing she had grabbed it in the first place. Another round of butterflies flew through her body as you looked at her questioningly.. “That was super cool what you did for that girl. Leaving mid song I mean.”

You sighed, you were starting to get frustrated with her antics. Did she loathe you? Were you two friends? It seemed every other minute her feelings towards you changed. It was confusing the hell out of you. “Thanks.” You clipped, starting to walk away.

“That’s it?” Julien asked from behind you.

As you turned back around you noticed she stood as if trying to make her 5 foot frame seem taller, not that it was working. “What?”

“‘Thanks.’ That’s all you're gonna say? Normally you're much more chatty,” Julien laughed.

“I don’t know what you want from me Julien.”

Julien pauses, looking at you with questions written all over her face.

“When I talk to you, you get snippy and you’re mean. When I don’t talk to you, you want me to talk more. I don’t get what your deal is with me?” You whisper-yelled, afraid someone from the crew would see your argument.

“I-” Julien stuttered, not being able to come up with anything to say.

Finally done with the back and forth banter that has been hurting your feelings ever since you met Julien you declared, “If you don’t want to be my friend just say it.”

Julien looked at you, eyes wide. You watched her as the gears turned in her head, trying to come up with what to say. You gave her a chance to explain herself, you set a mental timer of 30 seconds, if she didn’t say anything then you would go away.

Those 30 seconds flew by without a peep from Julien, your eyes teared up as you spoke, “Fine, I’ll see you later I guess.” Turning around you went to your tour bus, wondering what you did to get Julien to dislike you so.

The only thing going through Julien’s mind was how she screwed up, bad.

#julien baker x reader #boygenius x reader #julien baker fanfic #julien baker fluff #jj writes #julien baker one shot #julien baker au #julien baker x singer!reader #julien baker x lacy!reader #muna x reader #julien baker angst

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fillinforlater · 5 months

Note

It’s that time of the year again. What are some of your favorite smuts released in 2023?

Monday of Appreciation: Part 104

Hello everyone, Smite here!

2023 is coming to a close and it's been quite the year, a mixture of "this is a bridge year for greater things to come" and "WE LIVIN' NOW MF!" What is a bit different this year is that the highs weren't as high and the lows weren't as low compared to previous years---maybe that is just me getting older, maybe it's hindsight. Either way, I'm good and this year was good.

But some things are more than just good. I'm of course talking about these writers and their stories that I have featured today. All of them deserve special mention, but I want to focus on two of them specifically.

In a year of great, fantastic and already legendary fics, these two stand out.

Without further ado, let's dive into the final MoA of this year:

-1-

@fanfiction4sooya: Can't Save You Now ft. Chaewon, Kazuha, Sakura

I- I- I just read the damn tags and new I one day had to give this a shot. ff4sooya has crazy ideas, futa galore, different dynamics and kinks, which is SO MY THING. This has Mommy and Daddy involved in an absurd (and absurdly hot) threesome that I couldn't take my eyes off.

Now I definitely need to read more and you should too because I bet there are a bunch of Masterpieces in that long Masterlist!

-2-

@iznsfw: Drunken ft. Olivia Hye

Is it really a Monday of Appreciation post without IZ?

Seriously, what this genius is able to cook up in a commission or in the currently ongoing (HYPE) IZ DAYS OF CHRISTMAS is absolutely incredible. We have long stories with in depth characters and love drama that ends not only smuttily but sweetly. Who the fuck needs books, when you can just binge IZ?

With "Drunken", they have once again hit it out of the FUCKIING park. There is never enough Daddy kink fics, yes, but mine seem like nonsensical cringe porn compared to this beauty of a piece. I love how it plays with my heart, no I'm not crying---okay, now that is hot.

Let me change that: there is three very fucking special stories today!

(I think this might even be better than Levi's Hyeju, wtf)

-3-

@cataboliac: Enkindle ft. Wendy

Firstly: I LOVE YOU CATA, BIG QT!

Secondly: "Enkindle" feels a bit like coming home, like a day in Paradise, like the one person that shines so bright in your life that you don't want it to go. And you know, that is the great thing: this might be Cata's final fic, the farewell, but not only is his life gonna be great and he'll be super happy - we also get to read this again and again, and I'm sure I will one day.

Thank you, Cata, for hanging around!

Thirdly: I'M GONNA KISS YOU, CATA!

-4-

@writerpeach: Delectation ft. Wonyoung, Yujin

1.000 Notes, and it's still not enough for what is my pick for fic of the year (FOTY? FOOTY? There is a scene like that, yep). IZ*ONE truly never dies, but it is IVE and these absolute super stars, bomb shells with flawless faces and different, yet irresistible bodies that have us in a frenzy.

Talking about frenzy, all those 30,699 words are a frenzy. I thought Peach would set it up with a long and painful tease that has us edging the entire time BUT NOPE this has so much fucking smut, so many lines of neediness and horniness, it is impossible to finish in one try or two tries or... I dunno, seven-hundred tries?

It's detailed, it's straight forward, it's sex from every fucking angle, I can never get tired of this. I will go so far and say this is Peach's magnum opus, the GOAT fic by the GOAT writer. At least for that day, I can say this without a doubt.

Peach, you are crazy and thank you for that <3

#PeachPavedTheWay #AnnyeongzForDaddy

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #ive smut #izone smut #male reader insert #male reader #idol x idol smut #red velvet smut #wendy smut #loona smut #loosemble smut #olivia hye smut #hyeju smut #wonyoung smut #chaewon smut #yujin smut #sakura smut #le sserafim kazuha smut

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1d1195 · 11 months

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Traditional IV

Nothing like being quarantined in June of 2023 to get a little timely writing done. I hope you enjoy this part, I feel like it's moving a little too slowly but I promise I have some pretty good plans and I hope you'll find it's worth the wait.

Accidentally a little close to 6K words, whoops. Read the rest here: Traditional

She simply didn’t believe that Harry liked her like that. There was no way. He simply paid her to be around, and he worried about her the way someone worries about their car...or their expensive electronics. “No way.”

She took a deep breath as the driver stopped in front of Harry’s home. It was her first time here and while she thought Harry had been nothing but a gentleman over the last month, she also knew this was his home and that meant it was his rules. Added to the fact that Niall touched her (albeit in a friendly way), she thought she might not make it out of here.

She opened the car door and started up the pathway to the front door. The only time Harry ever let her open her own door was when he wasn’t around. For the evening she decided on her favorite pair of black jeans. They were stretchy and comfy despite being jeans. They went with everything too. And instead of a zipper there were just three buttons. Per her personality, she didn’t think she looked good in much, but these were all but magic jeans that (objectively) made her butt look good. She paired the good jeans with a plain bright blue T-shirt. Nothing special. Harry said dress comfortably.

She knocked twice on the door swallowing a lump in her throat.

It was as if Harry was waiting by the door because her hand hadn’t even made its way back to her side. She released a breath she was holding as Harry smirked at her. “Hey beautiful,” he hummed sweetly. The idea that a man as gorgeous as Harry Styles looked at her jeans and t-shirt ensemble and still called her beautiful was enough to make her pass out. He didn’t seem the same bit as irritated as he was earlier. Maybe she wouldn’t get an earful after all.

“Hi.”

“Y’nervous?” He asked.

She nodded. “Very.”

“Y’know you’re supposed t’be nervous because m’your boss’s boss not because of this. This was my choice.”

“Both were your choice.”

“I already told you, love, Niall picked you,” she twitched very slightly at Niall’s name. Harry of course noticed. His smirk deepened. “C’mon,” he tilted his head toward the inside. Sliding past him, she heard the door click shut behind him.

Harry’s house was pretty big for one person. She liked how open it was: the staircase was right in front of the door. It led to a little area that overlooked the main room. Almost like a loft. The main room flowed into a dining room and the kitchen, side by side. All rooms were still very open. She of course didn’t know which rooms were down the hall, but it was honestly the home she dreamed of. She could see through the slider he had a big back yard and a porch swing looking over the yard.

Whenever this thing with her and Harry ended, she would have to kindly ask for the floorplans. This place was perfect. She was in awe he was willing to slum it in her small (but no less beautiful—he did pick it out after all) apartment for the last month.

“Y’okay, love?” He asked, leaning against the kitchen island while she looked around the rooms. It was sparsely decorated. Anne and Gemma were always on him about that. But he was waiting for someone to decorate it for him...someone like her.

“This house is beautiful.”

He chuckled. “Thank you, kitten.”

“I want the floor plans,” no time like the present to ask.

He wanted to say there was no need for her to have them. He wanted to say the house was all hers. It didn’t even feel like home until she stepped inside. She hadn’t even sat down yet, and Harry could hardly breathe, feeling how whole he felt with just her presence gazing out the window. Harry nearly proposed because the idea of her living in a house without him seemed ridiculous. He grinned. “Will do, love...can I get you something t’drink?”

They ended up on the porch swing after dinner. She kicked her shoes and held the glass of wine in her hands. Tomorrow was Saturday so she didn’t seem to mind drinking today. Harry made her Ramen, and they ate it at the table before moving outside. “You’re a very good cook,” she told him to which he smiled so brightly at the compliment she thought she might go blind.

With one foot tucked under her and the other one dangled over the edge, her toe was barely touching the ground. Harry, with the longest legs in the world was flat footed on the ground, gently rocking the pair of them. Harry was so close to her she could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Are y’warm enough, kitten?” He asked. Every time they were together, he worried she would be freezing all so she wouldn’t inconvenience him.

She nodded. “Wine makes me warm,” she smirked.

He chuckled. “Good.” They sat silently for a bit. Listening to the sounds of the outdoors. Harry scrolled on his phone for a moment, something he hated to do while he was with her, but he couldn’t help it much when he was constantly getting notifications about his business. “Sorry, love,” he said softly as he checked on one important notification.

“It’s really okay,” she promised sipping her wine. “I feel bad I’m here interrupting your evening to begin with.”

He frowned and put his phone back in his pocket. “Kitten, you’re so confident at work...and y’should be of course...how come you’re so hard on yourself outside of work?”

She shrugged. “I know I’m good at working, I’m not very good at the whole relationship thing...obviously. Even more so the whole companionship thing either.”

His frown deepened and he watched as she sipped from her glass. She cradled it in both hands nervously rubbing her thumbs along the sides. “I don’t know what y’mean by ‘obviously.’”

“Well, I was previously in a relationship for three years but the reason it ended is because I caught him fucking another woman in our bed,” she said bluntly. Harry’s eyebrows perked up. He hadn’t heard her swear once since he’d known her. “I would assume that was because I wasn’t good enough...so now I’m not sure I know how to be a girlfriend...I feel like I certainly don’t know how to be a companion.”

Harry put his hand to his mouth, trying to think of all the words he wanted to say next. “Love, your ex is a proper idiot,” he said. “His...unfaithfulness has nothing t’do with you. He is so wrong for losing you,” Harry let the words sit between them for a few moments. She was quiet. Harry waited for her to say something or to let the emotions filter through her brain. In a matter of a month, she had a boyfriend, didn’t have a boyfriend, started an internship, a companionship, and moved into a new apartment. There couldn’t have been much time for her to process everything.

Harry didn’t care if they sat there the rest of the night. She needed to know that, and she needed to know she was perfect. Her ex was a complete moron for losing her. Harry wasn’t even dating her, and he was ready to kiss the ground she walked on just to exist. Eventually, she bit her lip and quietly whispered to him. “Thank you.”

He didn’t need a thank you. So he continued his assurance that she was all but angelic. “As for this,” he gestured between the two of them. “I know ’ve only known you a month...and I know you’re new at this, but you’re lovely. I really believe that. There aren’t really rights or wrongs when it comes t’this,” he promised.

“I haven’t even slept with you yet...let alone kiss you,” she muttered. “I’m the worst at this.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Have you done this before?”

There was a beat of silence. Harry didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable but he would rather die than lie to her. “A couple times,” he admitted. “Not in a few years.”

She nodded. “How come...you don’t make me sleep with you?”

He snorted at the implication. “Kitten.”

“Well,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean...you could...not pay me. This could be over.”

He could just tell her right now that he was in love with her. More than the first day he met her. Harry didn’t believe in love at first sight. He had dated a good amount before her. No one ever took his breath away like she did, so he was certain it had to be love. Harry never got jealous before today...especially because of his best friend. “Do y’want it t’be over?” He decided to ask instead.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to say this without putting my foot in my mouth so I’m just going to say it and know I’m not trying to offend you,” she paused and looked at him for a moment. He nodded his head. “Despite our arrangement, I’m really glad I met you. I like hanging out with you. And I think you’re right...I wouldn’t have found someone as nice as you if you didn’t come along.”

He smirked. “And outbid them?” He winked.

“That’s not why I picked you,” she rolled her eyes. “I told you what I wanted.” They sat quietly side by side, rocking gently for another moment. In all her efforts to avoid the topic of Niall, she felt she had no choice but to ask herself. “Did you tell Niall about us?” She asked.

He shook his head. “I want to, though.”

She frowned. “Any way I could convince you otherwise?” She asked tentatively. She tapped out a rhythm on her glass with her fingertips.

He chuckled and shook his head. “He’s very discreet. And he already knows you,” Harry reminded her. “Wouldn’t it be nice not t’hide it with someone at work?”

“Isn’t he going to look at me like I’m...”

“He’s not going t’look at y’like anything but you, love.”

She sighed. “It’s your show,” she shrugged.

“I won’t tell him if y’don’t want me to,” he answered with a shrug of his own.

She turned to him, her foot that was previously tucked under her, fell back toward the ground. “You won’t?”

He sipped his own glass of wine. “If s’gonna make you uncomfortable, of course not.”

She sucked her lip into her mouth. “I’ve never met any guy like you before, Harry.”

He smiled. “Is that a good thing?”

“I think it might be my favorite thing.”

The idea that any part of Harry’s personality was her favorite anything had him nearly bubbling with excitement. He wanted to kiss her for the rest of the night and maybe all day tomorrow too. “You can tell Niall...he is your best friend.”

He could feel his face smiling so much he looked at the glass in his hands. He would tell Niall tomorrow when they golfed bright and early. “Do y’like Niall?” He asked quietly.

“I do,” she said and Harry thought he might die. His heart seemed to stop beating all together. “He’s my boss. He’s a great teacher and—”

Harry shook his head and swallowed a bit nervously. He didn’t want her to like him. “No...love...I mean...” he trailed off.

She tilted her head at him in confusion and then at once her eyebrows shifted up in surprise. “Harry,” she said softly.

“Look,” he started. “I...I don’t think you’re like this, but ’ve had girlfriends and companions only like me for m’money and they don’t...” he shook his head. “If y’like Niall I just want t’know.”

She frowned, thought for a moment and then leaned toward Harry and quickly pecked him on the cheek. Like an absolute child he thought about never washing his cheek again. She rested her head against his arm and Harry tried to stay perfectly still so as not to move out of this perfect position. Eventually, she shook her head. “If...if you stopped paying me, I’d still want t’be friends. I don’t like Niall like that, I promise.”

His heart soared. “You would?” He asked.

“Do you have any friends besides Niall? Or are all your friends paid for?” She giggled cutely.

He chuckled at her joke. “I have other friends.”

“I’d...like to meet them sometime, if that’s possible.”

Harry didn’t know how to tell her she would meet them at their wedding, so he just said, “sure thing, kitten.”

Harry didn’t really know how to broach the topic to Niall, so he just went for it. Right as he took one of his first swings. “Are you kidding me, Harry!?” He shouted. “You messed up my shot!” Smirking, Harry leaned a bit on his club waiting for Niall to process the words he said. “How much do you pay her?”

“None of your business.”

“I would have been your companion if I knew you’d pay me more.”

“You’re not my type,” he said unaffected by Niall’s quip. “You still make more than her,” he shrugged. Harry knew it wasn’t about that though. “She didn’t even want that much. She just wanted enough t’pay for her apartment.”

“This is proof you don’t pay attention to me when I send the intern information to you,” Niall noted.

“I trust you,” he rolled his eyes lining up his tee to take his shot. “You had no idea?”

Niall shook his head. He waited quietly and patiently for Harry to swing. “I thought you just liked her.”

“Well, I do,” he admitted. “A lot.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “You sure know how to make everything the most complicated thing in the world.”

“We all have our talents, Niall,” he deadpanned. Snorting Niall shook his head putting his club back into the bag and getting into the golf cart. “She’s nervous you’ll treat her different.”

“If I didn’t know for the last month, I would say it doesn’t affect her work ethic or anything. I wouldn’t treat her differently if you told me before.”

Harry nodded. “Good.” They were quiet as they got to their next shots and finished the hole. Gathering their belongings, Harry drove them to the next one. “I really like her,” he told him.

Niall could tell that Harry really liked her. He never got too attached to girls or wispy about them. He certainly didn’t concoct a day of golf for Niall to talk about them. As Harry’s best friend he was very grateful he had found someone he liked so much. Even if it was naturally complicated. Niall smirked. “Good for you,” he said almost if he was congratulating Harry. “You deserve a nice, sweet, girl,” he told him. “I will take full credit at the wedding that you wouldn’t have met her if I didn’t pick her to be my intern.”

Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled at his friend as they got ready for the next hole.

But there was no way Harry could deny how dreamy it felt to think about marrying the pretty girl.

During her Starbucks runs she always forwarded the office phone to her cellphone. Carrying the tray containing Niall and Harry’s drinks, she had her shoulder pressed to hold the phone in place next to her ear. Additionally, she picked up a bunch of documents for Niall at the print shop and since then it had been nonstop phone calls. So, her hands were full. She thanked the man on the elevator for pressing the button for her and hurried off to settle the items down.

She turned the corner to her office, and it took her several moments after the fact to realize what happened. She heard someone screaming and it was a full minute before she noticed it was herself that screamed. “Holy shit,” she didn’t know the guy that bumped into her. In a daze she thought that maybe she had never seen him before this very moment. But her skin was burning, the empty coffee cups were on the floor and the documents were everywhere.

All she could manage to think about was how glad she was she wore pants and a chunky sweater today.

She was gasping like the air wasn’t coming fast enough and was still unsure why. “Darling?” Niall was suddenly there shoving him out of the way, he put his hands on her shoulders and tried to gather the attention of her eyes. She had to be in shock. All she knew was that she was in so much pain. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s okay,” he promised calmly. He was assessing the situation, looking her up and down seeing if he could figure out how to help so she didn’t get sent into a full-blown panic. It seemed she already was and of course Niall didn’t blame her. Her skin was probably burning. She was covered in hot liquid. Her clothes soaked and probably burning her skin. It didn’t get her face, just her shirt seemed to take the brunt of it and she was so glad she opted for a thicker sweater this chilly fall morning. It very well could have been the difference between a first and second degree burn that was still stinging her skin. Niall gently tugged her through the puddle of liquid at their feet ruining her cute shoes. Niall didn’t even pay any mind to his polished dress shoes getting splashed with coffee. His only concern seemed to be her. “Come on, let’s get you—”

“What happened?”

She had never heard Harry sound like that before in the two and a half months she was interning. The din of background noise stopped at the sound of his voice. Everyone was silent. Obviously, he never sounded like that outside of work either. She was certain it reset her shocked brain. Inhaling deeply, she ignored the sting of her shirt sticking to her burned skin. Definitely first or second degree. “M’okay,” she managed but she was trying so hard not to cry in pain in front of literally everyone that came out of their offices to hear her scream and then Harry’s angry tone. He shoved Niall roughly out of the way and she swore she saw Niall smirk at his friend. It almost made her smile, but she was in too much pain to focus on it now. She knew that Niall knew, but true to Harry’s words, Niall made no implication that it changed her relationship with him. Niall pretended like he didn’t know. Or if he wanted to mention it, he didn’t seem to care. Harry grabbed her by the wrist after ensuring it was okay to touch her by a quick scan of noting it was probably the only part of her that wasn’t in pain.

Harry wanted to kill himself for ordering a hot beverage.

“I’m so sorry,” the man that bumped into her whispered.

“You can shut up,” Harry snapped. She couldn’t say anything because she was still in pain and still trying to process anything that happened. “You, pack your stuff,” he snarled directly to the man that she still didn’t even know his name. He blanched at the notion. She gaped.

“That’s not—”

“Let’s go,” he snapped not letting her finish. He marched her away from the puddle of hot liquid and down to his office.

Niall followed behind, grabbing her phone off the floor before it was submerged in tea and coffee. “Don’t pack yet,” she heard him mutter to the poor guy.

“Mr. Styles,” she whispered just in case anyone was listening. She didn’t like to call him Harry in front of anyone except Niall. She knew others weren’t given the privilege and she didn’t want to be treated differently. “Please slow down,” she begged. While her upper body definitely was in worse shape than her legs that were mostly protected by her pants, the stinging pain of her burns amplified as her clothing brushed painfully against her skin. “It hurts,” she croaked. Harry’s hand loosened his grip on her wrist and he slowed his pace breathing out in nearly heavy pants. “M’okay,” she promised.

Harry wanted to scoop her in his arms and carry her the rest of the way. The last ten meters seemed endless as he watched her walk carefully to his office. She was trying not to cry, and it made Harry want to set himself on fire just to see her in pain.

Niall followed behind a few moments later just as she got to the door and Harry slammed the door shut to his office. “You can’t fire him, Harry,” Niall rolled his eyes.

“Look at her,” he snapped. “What do y’need, angel?” He cooed, he cupped her face and she felt so embarrassed that Niall was right there to see it all. This would surely make him treat her differently. Somehow, despite all the burns, Harry calling her angel and touching her face was enough to turn her cheeks warm against Harry’s cool hands. She wanted him to touch all over her aching skin. The duality of his tone between Niall and her was so shocking she forgot how to speak. “Should I take her to the hospital?” He asked Niall.

She shook her head quickly. “M’fine,” she promised bravely the tears still stinging the back of her eyes as much as her skin.

Niall was looking at his phone. “You’re supposed to rinse in barely warm water, darling. Should be cold, really.”

Harry turned away from her for the first time and hurried to the closet of his office that she never really paid any mind to. But as she watched Harry the closet was actually a bathroom and if she wasn’t in so much pain, she probably would have made a joke about it. He started grabbing a towel and all kinds of spa things. “I don’t have any clothes,” she said softly to Niall. Her cheeks felt like they were reddening by the second. This was so embarrassing. “Can I have my phone?” She sniffled. He held it out to her tentatively, having wiped it off on his leg of any last coffee. She would have to get his clothes dry cleaned. She tapped on Eleanor’s number.

“Hey love, how’s your day?” Louis answered the phone. It wasn’t uncommon. They often had their lunch breaks together since they worked a mere block away from one another.

“Louis, I need Eleanor to bring me some clothes,” she mumbled looking at Harry making sure everything was in place from the open door.

“Ooh, finally let Harry fuck your brains out. How naughty you did it at work.”

She sniffled. “No...” she shook her head hating that she couldn’t laugh at his joke.

“Oh, hey, babe. What happened? Are you alright?” He asked.

Eleanor must have taken the phone from him. “What’s wrong?” She asked.

“S’nothing. I just need you to bring me clothes,” she sniffled, and the tears finally escaped. “Please.”

“Yeah, of course. Of course, love. What do you want?”

She didn’t want to wear anything, but she had to be professional. She wished she was by herself, and Niall and Harry weren’t in earshot. “I...I think I burned my whole body,” she whimpered. “El, it hurts,” she sniffled. “I...loose pants, a loose blouse,” she told her.

“Darling, you can wear something comfortable,” Niall said. “Don’t worry about the outfit,” he promised.

“Oh, love,” she cooed. “I got it, I got it. I’ll be right there, fifteen minutes. Just have someone send me the information I need,” she said.

“We’re on our way, love,” Louis promised taking the phone back for a moment before they hung up. She opened her phone to her message thread with Louis and Eleanor and handed it to Niall. “Can you just tell them how to get up here?” She asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded. She told him what her passcode was in case the screen locked on him. Niall took a seat on the couch on the opposite side of Harry’s office.

“C’mere,” Harry said and gestured to the bathroom.

This had to be the most embarrassing day of her life. She slowly made her way toward the bathroom feeling like the stinging was now a permanent fixture on her body and after all the shock was officially out of her body it hurt more than it did five minutes ago. She was dreading the look at her skin. “Harry, you can’t fire him,” she said.

“It’s my company,” she could tell it was taking a lot of restraint from snapping at her.

“Please,” she begged. He didn’t respond but he saw the way his shoulders deflated just a hair.

“Louis and Eleanor are bringing you clothes?” He asked.

She nodded. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.” Harry closed the bathroom door. “Harry...” she said softly, nervously. He turned the water on in the shower and let it run.

“That should run for at least five minutes,” he told her.

Which just meant there would just be five minutes until Eleanor was here to help her. She leaned back against the counter, eyes closed, trying not to think about how much pain she was in. She supposed it was better than when it initially happened, but she kind of wished the shock was still there to keep her from noticing.

“Y’can probably get in now,” he told her.

Her face burned in embarrassment. “Harry,” she tried again.

“I won’t look. M’not leaving this room if you’re by yourself. If y’pass out, m’not letting you lay in the shower. Just until Eleanor gets here,” he promised. He turned around and faced the door. He stood there silently. Her chest ached almost as much as her skin. It drove her nuts that everyone on the entire floor knew she was in here with Harry and Niall. She was sure the rumors would be awful in a matter of moments. Harry still hadn’t seen her naked and she didn’t want at work to be the first place for it to happen.

“Kitten, please try,” he whispered quietly. “M’really upset you’re hurt,” he told her. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling and she could hear how upset he sounded. It was like he was in pain from the burn almost as much as she was.

Assuming Harry wasn’t backing down she decided it was now or never. She sniffled and tried to reach for her shoes but immediately regretted it. She inhaled sharply and stood straight up. “Can you help me with my shoes? I can’t bend,” she whispered. He turned around immediately and knelt to the floor. He carefully picked her foot up, almost cradling her ankle. His fingers skimmed along her ankle strap and unbuckled it. She couldn’t believe how intimate it felt just for Harry to be holding her foot. Carefully he pulled her shoe off and then started on the other. Almost losing her balance she grabbed the counter.

Harry was wildly aware of what this looked like.

Which is why when Eleanor pushed the door open, gasped, then pulled it shut almost as quickly, Harry froze with his hand grasping her ankle. “Whoops, sorry,” she muttered outside the door. “Good for him,” she heard Louis say almost proudly.

She put a hand over her face to hide her embarrassment. She honestly thought Niall was probably thinking of ways to fire her solely for her friends being idiots. Harry smirked despite everything, and she was actually grateful for Louis’ joke at her expense because she hated the idea that Harry was upset because of her. “Suppose that’s m’cue,” he murmured.

“Great,” she sighed.

He stood up and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “M’glad you’re okay, kitten,” he whispered in her ear. “And I’d be so lucky,” he said causing her skin to warm more than the burn.

Eleanor chatted with her throughout the shower and was there to help her with her clothes. She was glad she didn’t have to say it in front of Niall and Harry, but Eleanor knew to bring one of her looser bralettes without an offensive band that could hide under her shirt. She was also grateful that she clearly heard Niall about the comfortable clothing because she wouldn’t be caught dead in this office with a pair of leggings for fear of unprofessionalism. “Sorry to interrupt,” she winked at her.

She glanced at the doors hoping no one out there heard Eleanor. She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t do that at work.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” El shrugged. “He’s really cute.”

“He can hear you,” she shook her head whispering nervously.

“No, Louis texted they both left to give you privacy. It’s just Louis out there.”

“Who are we to judge what kind of physical medicine you need in a time of crisis?” He asked through the closed door.

“Are you alright?” Eleanor asked. She nodded. The shower helped significantly even if it was freezing cold. “I brought some petroleum jelly,” she said. “Do you want help, or do you want me to do it?” She asked.

“I can do it,” she said and glanced in the mirror at her body for the first time.

“I think your sweater saved you,” Eleanor said.

She nodded. “That and my iced coffee,” she remarked. Her skin was red, one or two spots where the initial impact must have hit would blister, right below her bra-line but she was extremely lucky. The burns did extend to her thighs but other than that she was okay. The stinging was now just a dull ache. She slathered the ointment all over her skin. Everywhere it hurt. She nearly sighed with relief.

It took another five minutes for Eleanor to help her with her clothing and make sure she looked okay. She put on more makeup so she could feel whole again. She was already dreading leaving this office with wet hair. Eleanor opened the door to see Louis sitting on the ground with his back against the wall beside the door to the bathroom.

“You alright, babe?” He asked, standing to join the little party. Louis sat on the closed toilet lid.

She nodded. “Much better. Thank you.”

“Harry left this,” he said holding out a first aid kit. Eleanor placed it on the counter to deal with after the makeup.

“You should ask to go home,” Eleanor said as she reapplied her mascara. “We’ll drive you home before we go back to work.”

She shook her head. “I have to do a few more things...I have to replace those files....and I never got my coffee,” she opened the first aid kit to pull out gauze and she slathered it with more petroleum jelly.

Louis chuckled. “You’re definitely okay.”

“Harry was going to fire the guy that bumped into me,” she said. “Can you cover this?” She asked, passing her bandage to Eleanor and lifting her shirt to her chest. Louis looked at his phone while the girls did their thing.

“Well, he is quite taken with you. I’m surprised he didn’t strangle him on the spot,” Eleanor smirked as she bandaged the most sensitive burns carefully. It was cold in the office, and she was irritated because she couldn’t cover her arms or body with any extra layers. “You’re lucky it missed your hands,” Eleanor said.

She nodded as Eleanor soothingly wiped more jelly along the inside of her forearms where the hot liquid did get her. “What do you mean quite taken?” She asked.

“Oh, shut up,” Louis rolled his eyes. “Even I noticed.”

“He’s smitten, love,” Eleanor giggled. “He can’t take his eyes off you, ever. The whole time we built the furniture when I came in the bathroom to help.”

“He was practically staring at the door like a puppy while you were in here,” Louis explained.

She felt the ever-present warmth in her cheeks whenever Harry’s affection toward her came up. She simply didn’t believe that Harry liked her like that. There was no way. He simply paid her to be around, and he worried about her the way someone worries about their car...or their expensive electronics. “No way.”

There was a knock on his office door, and she felt awkward that someone was probably coming in looking for Harry and they were about to find a circus in the bathroom.

“Come in!” Louis shouted.

“Jesus Christ,” she grumbled. Eleanor laughed as she finished the final coat of jelly and rinsed her hands off in the sink.

Fortunately, it was just Harry. Harry, knocking on his own office door. She was going to lose her mind from how ridiculous this all was. “Er...hi,” he said awkwardly.

“Hi.”

“You feel a little better?”

“I think so,” she nodded.

Niall came in behind holding an iced coffee in his hands. “Louis said y’might still want one,” he smirked.

She turned to glare at Louis who smiled excitedly. Like this was the most exciting game he had ever played. “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

“Niall, Harry,” Eleanor began. Oh no. “Would you mind if we drove her home? She wants to stay to replace the files or something, but I think—”

“Absolutely not, please take her,” Niall said quickly shaking his head. He didn’t even need to hear the end of it.

Harry frowned. “Y’didn’t seriously think we were going t’make y’stay love, did you?” He wondered.

“Well, it’s not that bad now...I could—”

“Oh my God,” Louis rolled his eyes. “You’ll see them both Monday and your work will still be here. You can spare the ninety quid you’d make.”

“You’re only paying her eighteen an hour?” Harry asked, looking at Niall suddenly very aware of how little he was paying her.

“You’re the one that sets the pay, Harold,” Niall shook his head.

“I changed my mind,” she said to Eleanor. “Get me out of here,” she begged.

“Er...” Harry started appearing a bit flustered. She doesn’t know why. Everyone in this room knew he was paying her outside these walls to be in his life. “Do y’think you can drop her off at m’place? I want t’make sure she’s okay...and...I don’t want her t’cook dinner herself or anything.”

If Eleanor and Louis hadn’t said Harry was so taken with her just a few moments ago, she wouldn’t have thought anything of his question. She wouldn’t have looked at him when he asked. Again, it was merely the idea of someone taking care of a house pet. Or a boat. He wanted to look after what he paid for.

If they hadn't said anything, she wouldn’t have seen the way his cheeks turned the slightest bit pink when he asked if they could drive her to his place.

“Harry, we’d love to,” Louis responded with a full-blown, impish smile.

taglist: @tpwkstiles @matildasatellite @jessitpwk @jerseygirlinca @stylesfever @soachibstel1 @tiredinwinter

sorry if I missed anyone that wanted to be tagged. Just lmk!

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #ceo!harry #sugardaddy!harry #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #tradtional

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elliessession · 1 month

Text

"I need you right now."

an: IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN BUSY BECAUSE OF SCHOOL UGHHH, ANYWAYS HERE YALL GOO💗 I HOPE YALL LIKE THIS! And ofc as alwayss this one shot is inspired by "Coming Down" by the weeknd!

summary: you were done doing the chores in your apartment and ellie is still not home, shes at work but you decided to text her some things that you know would drive her crazy and immediately regret it.

-> smut! d!ellie, s!reader, pet names: princess, baby, good girl, slight degrading!, cursing! And i guess thats all?

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

After hours of cleaning your apartment you're finally done with everything. 'The bedroom? Clean! The dishes? Yep already cleaned, and im pretty sure i already vacuumed the whole apartment' you thought to yourself. Now theres nothing to do. You're on your school break right now and you've already did all the things you're supposed to do.

You tried to watch a movie which never really entertained you. You've also tried this tiktok trends just to really get out of your boredom, yet nothing really helped. You miss ellie, you miss being in her arms. "Yes! Why did i not think of this earlier!' you screamed getting your phone and plopping on your bed and opening your phone to text ellie.

-----------

me: els? When are you coming homeee, imyy! :(

no reponse.

"awe, she's probably busy" you said in a upset tone, really missing ellie closing your phone, then getting a 'bright idea' that is not so bright. 'why not send risky texts to ellie? She probably wouldn't even read it since shes at work, then ill probably just remove my text when her break is near'you thought to yourself

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

me: els, fuckkk i need you right now baby.

no response.

You giggled at the text you sent knowing she wont really read it.But the thought of her actually reading your texts and knowing what can happen. "Err.. lets go send another one!" You said.

-----------

me: els, baby please i really need you right now.

me: els, please. I miss you, can you text me back baby please. Fuck i need you so baddd

me: ;)

typing..

"holy shit!, Shit she saw it, im doomed for fucks sake" you say with a slight panic in your voice.

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

els💞: hey baby, missed me that much hm?

me: fuck yes i do.

"shit, just go with it lets just end what i have started" you say to yourself.

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

els💞: baby yk you're really turning me on rn.

me: oh? thats a good thing then.

els💞: babe stop.

me: whyy? do you not like it when im bold hm?

els💞: fuck this.

me: hm? Im all alone baby. I need you.

read.

"shit is it her break right now?" You asked yourself looking at the time in your phone "3:58pm" "its not her break yet, her breaks are in 4pm since i know shes in her night shift right now." you asked your self.

what do you not know is ellie actually left early to buy you gifts, she was buying you your favorite food at the time you texted her.

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

*ringing*

els💞: pick up your phone.

read.

"shit im in trouble" you say to yourself picking up the phone.

—–—–—–—–

"els?"

"im on my way home."

"d-dont you have work?"

"shit, you'll understand later baby."

"what do you mean?"

"your messages. Shit you've been driving me crazy."

*silence*

"wheres your boldness now? Hm?"

"fuck you els."

"you'll be fucking me later princess dont worry."

"ugh i hate you."

"pretty sure you dont baby"

*hangs up*

you can imagine ellies stupid smirk on her face, knowing you're literally folder right now.

A few minutes later your door opened and guess whos there. Ellie, you tried to play it cool like you didn't just drive your girlfriend crazy. "Heyy baby! I missed you!" You hugged her, ellie well.. was not playing with you. She took off her shoe and placed the things she bought for you and kissed you.

"you dont know how much you.. fuck youre driving me crazy all day."

ellies kiss deepen as her hands moves up and down from your shoulder to your waist, you tried your best not to moan from her touch.

a moment after there you guys were. Your laying at the bed and ellies there, between your legs..

"f-fuck.. els.."

and there she was. Coming down, right now.

infront of you.

"you're such a slut for me baby. I love it."

you closed your legs as she said this

"no need to be shy now princess, be a good girl for me hm? Show me your boldness."

"els please.. just.. fuck me please."

—————

"eat up now baby"

"els i.. im tired okay"

"shh, you were begging me for more earlier." She laughs

"ugh i hate you so much."

"thats not what you were saying earlier when i made you cum, hm?"

"shuuutttt upp"

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

an: ANDD TADAAA I HOPE U GUYS LIKED THISS💗 AND AS ALWAYSS SORRY FOR MY BAD GRAMMARR, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGEEE, YOU GUYS CAN ALWAYS CORRECT ME THO!💗

#tlou2 #wlw #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #smut #one shots

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

Text

fuck your inhibition. | k. bakugou

♢ tags ; very big age gaps (19 years), questionable ethics, ex deliquent / runaway reader (22), fighting / violence, brief mentions of living on the streets, retired pro-hero bakugou (41), emotionally charged sex, afab + masc!reader, top!reader, bottom bakugou, reader is really rough around the edges, backstory for reader, arguing, oral (both receiving),rimming (m!recieving), strap-ons (not a dom thing. no particular power dynamics), prone-bone, dirty talk, size difference (reader is smaller but no specifics), happy endings sort of.

no explicitly gendered terms for reader. usage of words like clit / cunt for readers body parts. reader is implied bisexual.

(also while this fic is certainly intended to be read as masc., it can just as easily be read as completely gn.)

♢ wc ; 10.2k (two days. this is so alarming)

♢ a/n ; happy birthday to my favorite guy. sorry in advance. this fic is so disgustingly self-indulgent. str8 self-inserty ngl. i simply dont want to look at it djskfgdf. this fic is pretty tame tho age gap aside. been a while since ive written for him. title is from "lemme know" by vince staples

♢ synopsis ; who knew that the boudoir pictures you've been getting off too your whole life would look so much better in person?

You’re not convinced there’s any way to get used to getting your lights knocked out.

At this point, your fighting prowess is good enough that you can dodge swings from even heavy handed opponents. Just agile enough to bob and weave. Your reflexes are good too, from years of getting into with cops or otherwise. So getting absolutely dusted in a single, swift motion is not a frequent occurrence.

That’s why you are sorely caught off guard when it happens to you in the back of an alleyway, tucked into a corner of Osaka—a long ways from home.

You were fucked from the minute you stepped foot off the train; you knew that instinctively. You haven’t been back in years and it’s not like you’re here for leisure. And sure, you took the job knowing there was some possibility you’d run into some old foes but shit. They couldn’t’ve waited till the week was over?

3 days in and your life as a runaway comes back to bite you in the ass. Worse, they catch in front of the very storefront you were working up the nerve to visit at the end of the week. If that old man catches you 1. making a ruckus in front of his cherished bakery and 2. fighting like those “worthless punks” that he openly detests, he’s definitely gonna be on your ass.

It’s amidst conflict, you decide to take the beating and wait it out. Hopefully, whatever higher power is looking over you will let you get out without busting your lip.

But fuck, this last hit is leaving you worse for wear. You blink your eyes open and you’re still surrounded by him and his bunch of goons. What was this dudes name again…? Aka…Aka-something, you think. Without warning, you get another punch, a clean left-hook - this time to your side. You cough at the sensation.

Ah, life is so unfair to you.

He grabs you by the front of your collar, dragging you upwards until you’re nose to nose. This fuckers breath is hot. Something warm slips down your nose, a rivulet of blood over your lips. You grunt.

“I should’ve beat the shit out of you the first time.”

You blink slowly as you regain your vision and sense. Despite many transgressions and altercations, your time in Osaka as a fugitive is notable. This bunch of fiends are a somewhat half-assed motorbike gang. It’s an old story. You stole and ruined not one, not two, but four of their bikes total. In your defense you were a young kid scrounging for change - hotwiring and deconstructing for parts was always pretty profitable. And stealing flashy bikes was a hell of a lot easier than scratching up your knees in the scrap yard.

Ah, there was that other thing too. Why you’re pretty sure this guy has held such a grudge against you for god knows how long. Irritable with a bad sense of self-preservation, you give up on behaving well.

“Yeah? No need to sulk now, right?” You grin, hands practically itching to throw him onto the ground. A familiar sense of adrenaline burns in your stomach. You should just hit him, but you don’t - instead opting to aim where you know it’s gonna piss him off most “How’s your little sister by the way?”

Red flashes in his eyes, nose puffed like a bull. Despite your self-satisfaction, you close your eyes and pray to god he doesn’t actually kill you. There’s still some ass you have to tap before you die and it’d be a real shame to die only inches away. You cover your face when his fist winds up. Riling him up was probably a bad move.

Before you get your lights punched out forreal, an angel comes to rescue you.

“Oi, you fuckin’ punks—go take this shit somewhere else or I’m gonna singe every last goddamn hair on your head.”

You smile, almost drunk on the adrenaline. An angel, indeed. A cursing, blonde, abrasive angel.

“Oh, shit—we gotta get outta here. That dude Dynamight doesn’t fuck around”

Before you know it, said group of miscreants disperses like a swarm of flies. You find yourself stumbling back against a bunch of crates, back hitting them and sliding down, snagging in your work clothes. The leader says something about “not being finished with you yet,” but you don’t catch it with how your ears are ringing in your skull.

You rub your eyes and groan, seeing double. When you open them again, your favorite blonde old man is standing in front of you. Arms crossed over his chest, sporting that signature glare you’re so fond of.

Your head is throbbing. Fuck it hurts.

You only manage one sentence before promptly blacking out.

“Did I die and go to heaven?”

—

You wake up in a familiar bed.

A bed you spent a lot of time resting in when you were out at on the streets here, something like four years ago now. The memories of the time aren’t entirely pleasant - being a homeless runaway was pretty shit. But meeting your life long hero (and getting your rocks off in his bed) are quite fond regardless. You’re surrounded by nice, white linen sheets that you’re pretty sure cost more than you make in a month. He’s not really much of a flashy character despite his career, but he does have an eye for the finer things.

You haven’t been back here in a while. Since moving to a different prefecture, you haven’t had any good reason to come see him. This week was a good excuse for just that. Didn’t exactly plan on it happening like this, but you can’t really win 'em all. You’d consider being back here a win on your part regardless.

The fact that you’re here instead of molding in the pouring rain means that he dragged you up there by himself. A fact you try not to put too much stock into, because he’s still a pro even if he’s retired. What makes it hard not to feel giddy about it is the fact you’re all cleaned up. Bandaged wounds and all, he even took off your shoes. Jeez, he’s gonna kill you one of these days acting so cute.

You turn to lay on your back, reaching your hand to the ceiling and making a fist. Your knuckles are still pretty bruised up but it’s clear he took some time to check over them. You drop your hand down, squeezing a fist over your chest and sighing. You roll over again.

“Still giving me so many mixed signals.” You say, half in jest, trying not to be too affected by it “Ah, fuck, this is bad. Gonna end up doing something weird just like old times.”

Before you commit another act of degeneracy in the bed of your long time crush and childhood hero, you sit up with your legs over the edge. He took your pants off too, a pair of boxers hung low on your hips. Your back is fucking killing you.

You stand to your feet, scratching the back of your neck as you turn to examine yourself in the mirror. You pull your tank up over your side, a bruise the size of a melon developing on you. It goes from just under your chest all the way down to above your waist. You press your finger to it and wince at the sensation of pain, dull but throbbing so deep in your nerves you can’t help but feel it.

You examine the rest of you, turning to either side. Work tomorrow is gonna fucking blow, but considering you don’t have any broken ribs - you think it’s not the worst it could be. No stitches either, so a win overall. If the rest of the week passed by silently that’d be perfect.

You look around the room for your things. They’re in a neat chair in the corner of the room. Bakugou’s cat is over there too, asleep on your uniform. You can hear something faint from downstairs, the sound of a T.V. playing. You should drop down there since you’re awake but you’re reluctant. You wonder if he’ll chase you out since you’re up. If he still has as much of a soft spot for you as he used to, it couldn’t hurt to test your luck.

You open up the bedroom door and shut it quietly before padding down stairs.

You end up finding him where you’d expect him. He’s in the kitchen with an apron on, a fitted gray shirt with a piping bag in hand.

He looks older every time you see him. His hair isn’t all gray yet but the platinum is starting to turn brilliant white. There’s lines in his face that weren’t always there, even with the scars and fine wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He’s still as jacked as he used to be, but it’s softened up. Mostly it’s his personality, you find, to be mellow. Only someone with patience could take up such a tedious hobby after an entire life out in the field - killing baddies and chasing thugs and whatever other shit hero’s do.

It’s kind of ridiculous that he’s piping delicate little designs onto some pastries, but unfortunately for you it only adds to his charm. You lean against the wall coming into the kitchen, in the frame. Half-dressed with your lips quirked up in a coy smile.

“Whatcha makin’ old man?”

“Don’t break my concentration you noisy brat,” He says straightforwardly “Sit down and shut up.”

“So cranky,” You muse, but ultimately comply, sitting at a chair on the kitchen island. Looks like he’s on his last round of whatever he’s making.

You get by on staring at him. It’s pretty typical for you even now. Sitting here in front of him doesn’t feel as awkward as you expected, which is worth something. When he’s finally finished, he puts the piping bag on the counter and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm.

“Permission to speak, sarge?” You ask, sarcastically. He frowns at you.

“Not granted.”

“Cold as ever huh,” You say, leaning your elbow on the counter - palm on your cheek “Thought distance was supposed to make the heart grow fonder?”

“That only counts if there’s fondness in the first place.” He says with ease. This time you scoff at him, but he cuts you off before you get a chance to reply “You wake up with any pain?”

“Worry about yourself, you old bastard,” You say impudently. You see the corners of his lips twitch as he stares at you “‘m fine. Got a nasty bruise on my side but my ribs aren’t broken. Work tomorrow is gonna suck.”

“That why you’re back here?”

“For about a week, yeah.”

“Confidential?”

You shake your head and lean back.

“Nah. Bodyguarding some rich dude’s kid. Birthday tomorrow. Spent the first two days being a lousy maid but the pay is good so I can’t complain.”

“Shit. The party is tomorrow? I have an order for tomorrow.”

“Guess you’re not senile yet, old man.”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou says, not bothering to hide to his expression “How old’s the kid?

“A little younger than me I’d guess. 19 or so.”

“Isn’t this a good opportunity to get laid?” He suggests like he’s purposefully trying to irritate you. He already knows how you feel. Why he insists on pretending is beyond you but it never fucking fails to piss you off.

You shoot him a glare.

“Nevermind. You’re definitely senile. Might wanna try some puzzle games to keep your shit in tact before you start peeing in public and buying ten pairs of the same pants.”

“You’re still just as mouthy as I remember.”

“Learned from the best.”

A comfortable silence settles as a weird feeling overtakes you. Fuck, you’re still pining your youth away after all this time. Maybe getting laid would fix some of your issues, but no one is gonna hold a candle to having the real thing. You rub your temple in preemptive apprehension. Bakugou starts working on cleaning up the kitchen, and you resign yourself to thinking about what you’re gonna do.

It catches you off-guard when he talks to you first.

“Earlier,” He says, opening up the fridge to rearrange it “Why weren’t you fighting back?”

You don’t know whether you want to laugh or cry hearing him ask. You don’t feel like softening the blow with your usual shit, so you give it to him straight.

“It doesn’t suit a tactical genius to play dumb, old man.”

He stiffens, then sighs.

“Still hung up on that, huh.”

Oh now you’re gonna get pissed.

“Don’t.” You warn, low and indifferent. He sighs, sliding a tray into the fridge and “Don’t piss me off, alright?”

“Hey. You shitty punk. When are you gonna get it through your thick skull I’m doing this for your fucking sake? Stop—”

“Next time, just leave me in the rain.” You seethe, venom in your voice, making you numb and agitated. He stops, breath hitching “I don’t give a shit if you’re a retired hero. I’m serious. Leave me out in the alley next time if you’re gonna pull the mentor act again..”

Man this sucks.

Not like you were expecting some heart warming love story out of a guy like him but still. You didn’t think he wouldn’t budge at all. You can feel yourself getting angry just thinking about it. It might’ve been better not to come. Mentor or not, his whole dismissal never fails to annoy you to your core. You knew that before the week started he might be like this. Maybe if shit went your way - you could’ve had a regular reunion. But now, he just had to see you getting beat up on purpose and he just had to fucking ask about it.

Seriously, where’s his decorum? Prick.

“Kid.”

“Don’t—I needa get outta here. I shouldn’tve—fuck, this blows.”

You stand to your feet before you have a chance to look back. You feel kind of pathetic running away again but it’s still the preferable option to having this fight a second time. It’s something you’re just too sensitive about to deal with head on. Getting rejected twice by the guy you’ve been in love with since you were nineteen is bound to fuck you up abs you don’t have it in you not to drink yourself into a fit.

So you’re practically running up the stairs, but you can hear him calling behind you. You go into the bedroom to get your things and Bakugou follows you into it predictably, shutting the door. You turn around to him, annoyed.

“Get outta my way.”

“No. Not while you’re all pissy. Gonna get yourself hit by a car.”

“What’d I just say about cooling it with the mentor act, man?”

“It’s not a fuckin’—it’s not an act.” He says, with a sigh that almost makes you feel bad, “I haven’t seen you in two years.”

“Two years is nothing. Old age is making you soft,” You scoff, arms crossed over your chest “But I don’t need your sympathy. My feelings haven’t changed.”

“Kid.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, alright? Cleaned my act up, got a job and a license and a place. Haven’t slept in a cell in two years. Been off the streets that whole time just like you told me to do. The least you could do is take me seriously.”

“I didn’t want you to do that shit for me. I wanted you to do it for you.”

“Too bad,” You reply back almost immediately, pinching the bridge of your nose “Save your lecture for the next injured bird you raise up and leave me out of it.”

“I’m trying to put you on the right path, you ungrateful little jackass. Don’t act like—“

“Spare me the goddamn lecture.”

There’s a quiet silence befalls the both of you. Shit is going nowhere fast and you both know it, Bakugou as much as you do. Memories of your last argument come back to you almost instantly.

After you turned eighteen, you were run out of the orphanage you’d spent part of your adolescence at. It’s a pretty regular sob story and you’re quite the sad sap. A dead mom in Mustafu and an absent father. You had a strong quirk, and hell maybe if you grew up different - you could’ve been a hero.

Shit didn’t work out that way, so at 11 you were thrown to the wolves. It’s not a fun time to look back on and you figure there’s no use thinking about the past. You did whatever you had to to survive which mostly meant being in and out of orphanages and running away whenever the next worthless schmuck tried to take advantage of you. You always got away by the skin of your teeth, and made money doing whatever you could. If it put food on the table, you’d have probably done it at least once.

It’s something of a cliche, but Dynamight was your idol. You liked that he wasn’t like other heroes. He was crass and hardcore and liked to talk shit. He was cool. You spent a lot of time hanging around T.V. stores watching him through the glass, watching interviews on your first hand-me-down phone. Even though he didn’t really have the tragic backstory, you always thought he was courageous and honest.

A celebrity crush and idol combined, you stole more of his pin-up magazines than you’re entirely comfortable with. A lot of them you still own, shoved into the back of your closet.

Once you’d turned 18, your life of petty crime had brought you all the way down to Osaka. It was also the worst year of your life. Social agencies seem to get off on tossing kids into the streets as soon as they can and with a criminal record like yours, there wasn’t a whole lot you could do.

You spent the first 6 months knee deep in all sorts of shit. That’s when you ran into that biker gang for the first time. You hung around bars and slept with strangers for a place to sleep. A lot of bad shit happened and it wasn’t getting any easier.

It was a cold, rainy day when you met Dynamight for the first time. The worst day of your life, more accurately. You got mugged and lost your job all in the same few hours and you were pretty sure god himself was spitting at your face.

But it wasn’t all bad. Cheesy as it sounds, meeting your hero was worth the trouble.

He was different off camera. That was the first thing you thought when you talked to him. He had a softer way of speaking and he was weirdly perceptive. He didn’t talk much, either - at least not at first. You spent a lot of time in comfortable silence. The first time, you didn’t do much more than share a meal. He asked you about your life. He gave you money for a hotel too. The only thing you could think to do was ask when you could see him again.

He was 36 at the time. Hadn’t retired yet, either.

That was the beginning of your long relationship. To this day, you don’t know why he decided to involve himself with you. It’s a mystery you’ve yet to get answers for and maybe you never will. Sure he was a hero, but you’re sure he’s seen a lot worse. Why take pity on you in particular? Whenever you ask him about it, he usually just scoffs. Sometimes he’ll tell you that you reminded him of someone. Who that person could be is lost on you even now.

It was a gradual relationship. You were young and persistent, but he never turned you away either. Sure he’d been a good influence, but stopping a life of crime wasn’t easy. You got arrested for some months after meeting. Bakugou took you in when you were 19 and homeless - let you stay with him. He retired at 37, opening up a bakery in Osaka. The place you’re staying in now is just over it. The same one you spent two years of your life falling in love with the old bastard.

It was hard not too. You’d admired him for a long time, and he managed to supercede your low expectations. It wasn’t the first time you fell in love but it was definitely the strongest sensation. You tried to ignore it for a while but that didn’t work out for shit either.

You confessed to him on your 20th birthday. Made a whole big deal with flowers and candles and shit. And again - it’s not like you were expecting romance out of the motherfucker. A flat-out rejection would’ve sufficed.

But…that wasn’t what you got either.

The whole reason for your fight wasn’t just because he didn’t have feelings for you. He made it a whole big fucking deal trying to tell you about your feelings. That you needed to get your shit together and grow up and that it was a phase that you’d grow out of. That he “really cares about you, kid” and that he’s just trying to do what was right by you as an adult.

(“You’ve got no idea what the fuck I’m like either. Been through some tough shit and you latched onto me, alright? So don’t go wastin’ your time.”)

You don’t really give a fuck about how old he is or about his status. None of it matters to you in the slightest. What was pissing you off all that time was him not taking you seriously after everything you’d been through together. Trying to tell you would fucking grow out of it and that it was a waste. You got into an argument after that, and like you’ve been doing your whole life - you ran away. Back to Shizuoka where you started to get your life together.

Hit the books and studied your ass off, graduating late from a night school and then picking up a vocational school to fall back on. Some old connections got you a job in security and you bounced from place to place in the meanwhile. You even got your license and bought a beat-up cruiser that you fix-up when you have the chance.

You grew up so to speak. You came back here trying to prove that. Being dismissed so fucking quickly makes you feel rage beyond reason so you’re trying to step back. Seriously, two fucking years and nothing. Not even a pity “I’m proud of you.”

“Just admit it,” You sneer, inching closer to him “It’s not about any of that shit, is it?”

He widens his eyes as you stalk towards him.

“The fuck are you—“

“Don’t play stupid. You feel guilty, right? Feel all wound up cause you know it’s not nothing. This isn’t nothing”

This time he goes silent. Fucking bullseye.

“You thought I forgot? How you kissed me all tipsy? Thought I didn’t notice you looking?”

Oh it feels good to let it all out. He shrinks, this time unable to say anything. You both know it’s true.

“Look—“ He puts hands on your shoulders as you back him into the wall “You’re too fucking young for all this. And about me, you don’t know—”

You lean into him, face inches apart. You already know what he’s gonna tell you, almost word for word. Trying to maintain some innocence you hardly have anything left of.

“You sure? I heard you through those walls plenty of times. You take dick like a champ.”

“Shut the hell up. This is for your own good, we can’t do this.”

You can hardly believe he’s still being like this.

“I used to know you were home. When I brought people over,” You whisper low against his skin. His eyes widen “You heard me too, I’m sure. So, be honest Mr. Dynamight, you think I can’t give you what you want or are you too afraid to find out?”

“You’re such a fucking punk.” He grits out. Still not denying your words.

“That’s right,” You muse, words heated and heavy “I’m a worthless street punk trying to fuck the old man upstairs ‘cause I don’t know any better.”

It’s not the first time you’ve kissed Bakugou in your life. The first time was when you came over to his place tipsy. In front of all the other pro-heros you had admired so much. It’s different this time. Not only are you both shockingly sober, there’s an aggression in it that wouldn’t be there before. No matter how begrudging he acts, he’s still kissing you back just as hard as you’d expect him too. His lips are softer than you thought they’d be, arms wrapped around your neck. Fuck he’s still so huge. How much does he work out to still be this jacked?

You can’t even imagine how that’s gonna look when you finally get to fuck him. Shit, just thinking about it sends electricity through your spine. You groan a little into his mouth, your hands tucked on his nape and tugging at the fine hairs. You push your incisors into his lower lip and tug, pulling away just slightly to intake how fucking flushed he is.

He looks like a pornstar,

You pull away, hand cupping his jaw and forcing his mouth open. You’re gonna lose it if you stare too long.

“You’re so fucking sexy.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” He mumbles. You laugh lightly at him.

“Your cocky attitude is pretty sexy too,” You hum, amused. You kiss him one more time, hands reaching for the thickest part of his waist. He’s built like a trunk, but his reactions are almost girlish. The contrast is making you twitch.

“Can’t say the same for you.” He spits. Your grin splits your face as you pull away from him, teeth nipping at his jaw. You can feel the scruff of his skin, unshaved as you let your tongue travel over it.

“Aw, what? You don’t think I’m sexy.” You nudge a knee between his legs feeling the half-hard outline of his cock. You shudder “You sure about that?”

“What the hell are they feeding brats like you?”

“Liquor and cigarettes.”

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Helps me relax after work,” You whisper against the shell of his ear, teeth tugging at the lobe before “I get pretty stressed out. Sure you know something about that.”

“Hngh, fuck. Fuck you.”

“Do you even know how? Not like that thing gets much use, huh?”

You reach down to cup his cock through his jeans, hard against the palm of your hand. He pushes his hips up slightly, sharpened glare. He pants.

“You sound, shit, so fucking sure.”

“I am sure. I’m looking to fuck you, not the other way around. Not sure how that’s gonna work since I don’t got my stuff on me.”

You’re not sure what you’re expecting him to say. This whole thing is feeling like a fever dream you can’t wake up out of. Maybe he’ll give you a suggestion on what else to do.. But instead of that, a blush crawls onto his face. It leaves you floored. He looks away from you.

“...Your shits still where you left it.”

It takes you a second to register what he means. When you do, you can feel your brows hit your fucking hairline. There’s no way he’s saying what you think he is.

“You’re shitting me.”

“Shut the fuck up. I thought you’d come to pick it back up but you never did, and I went to go move it into some boxes. I didn’t have any reason to toss it.”

A thought crosses into your mind.

“Hey. Old man. Where is it?”

He stares at you. You grasp onto him firmer, making him gasp. You can feel how heavy his cock is in your hands, rubbing it through the cloth of his sweats. You whisper harsh into his ears.

“If I open your goddamn drawer right now, tell me, am I gonna find my old strap in it? Clean and getting use? You been fucking yourself with the thing I used to lay dick with?”

When he doesn’t answer, pure glee ignites in you. He can’t answer, apparently. But his face is a harsh, permanent red now and his cock is painfully hard. You want to rail him into the fucking floor just for that. You wouldn’t make up some shit like that in your wildest dreams, so the fact that he’s not denying it makes your insides feel like they’re melting. You rub yourself against him, feeling how slick and hard your clit is just thinking about it.

“Go lay down.”

“Are you telling me what to do?”

You grab his ass as hard as you can before landing a hit on it that makes him nearly topple over. Even though he’s bigger than you in more ways than one, he reacts like that. His anger only lasts so long before it morphs into want.

“Of course I am. And you’re gonna listen.”

“What makes you so sure about that, huh? You think you can satisfy me?”

“You think you’re gonna intimidate me into backing down? After knowing you fuck your tight little ass to the thought of me? Fat chance.”

“I didn’t say anything like that.”

You laugh “You implied it. Now go lay down. Where’s your lube?”

He frowns at you.

“In the same drawer.”

You give him a knowing grin to which he shoves your face away. Ultimately though he listens to you, lying and making himself comfortable in the sheet as you grab whatevers in his little sex drawer. He wasn’t kidding about the strap, the lube seated next to it. You grab both quickly and join him, hovering over him.

You opt not to talk, slowing your pace to appreciate the view. You think he’s says something. Asks about what you’re doing and why - but you tune the words out as you run your hands over the curves of his body. He’s a wall of fucking muscle, his arms especially with a torso just tight enough for you to grab. The fabric of his shirt doesn’t leave much for imagination, but you’re still overwhelmed as you pull it up over his waist, his chest, his arms. The fabric comes loose and it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You’ve got plenty of porn mags in your back pocket and even more boudoir shoots from him that you’ve stared at for hours.

But seeing it in person is completely different. You can see the rise and fall of his chest - the raised skin of a scar and plenty of over scratches and wounds. Fuck, he is so sexy and you are so drunk on lust you almost feel sick.

“Somethin’ catch your eye?”

His voice draws you out of the trance you're in, a lazy smirk spread on his face. You laugh.

“I get why you’re such a show-off,” This time you lean forward to kiss him - a hand wrapped around his throat, spare going to grab his chest. His tits are soft, they look like hard muscle and sinew but the fat is squished in your palms to perfectly for that“Fuck.”

“You’re acting like a horny teenager.” He says flatly.

“Been thinking about fucking you that long, so I guess so.”

“Are you serious?”

“Why’re you so shocked?” You make work kissing down his neck slowly, down his chest, one tweaking his nipple while your mouth makes work on the other one He swears above you, another wave of heat pulsing in your body “Don’t you hear shit like that all the time?”

“Shit that feels—I didn’t think you were, hngh—serious.”

“Obviously not. I still have all your slutty ass photos in my apartment somewhere.”

He pants. Makes the prettiest fucking sounds for you as you grope and squeeze and touch his body. You bite, hard, into his tits leaving a red mark of teeth that makes him shudder. You need to do it all over again.

“Haah, fuck. What the fuck?”

“You’re way sexier in person if that’s worth anything,” You groan, a shudder passing through you “Like way sexier.”

He looks like he wants to say something to you but the words die in his mouth. You laugh as you peer over him. His reactions are fucking adorable. Face is hot with a flush, watery eyes. Pretty. As much he’s rugged and strong and downright handsome, he is annoyingly fucking pretty. Having him underneath you is making all the power go to your head. Nothing feels more appealing to you right now than the idea of wrecking him completely.

You kiss down his body until you’re at his waist, taking his pants off unceremoniously. You have half a mind to rip them but you’re sure they’re expensive. He lifts his legs for you anyways, leaving a tight pair of boxers that leave nothing for the imagination at all.

“What the fuck,” You mumble, getting face to face with it. You pull the boxers off slowly, kissing his hip as you do. His cock pops out slowly as you pull it down. What an asshole. His dick is impossibly big too. A tuft of well trimmed blonde hairs sit neat at the base and the tip is a harsh red. There’s a little drop of pre-cum dribbling down the shaft that makes your brain feel fuzzy. It’s veiny too, tight balls sitting net at the base.

Another shiver wracks through you, as you reach your hand out to touch it tentatively. He groans sharply. You stick your tongue out, licking up from base to tip. He tastes of salt and skin, but it isn’t bad. You let your tongue lick at the slit, elated looking at him squirm underneath you.

“Nice dick.” You say back plainly. He snorts.

“Fuck off.”

‘’m serious,” You add, letting your eyes lid to look more serious “I don’t blow just anyone.”

You open your mouth wide, pulling lips over teeth as you ease the tip slowly. It’s hot. Hard as steel and intrusive against your tongue, you can feel it throb. Pulsing relentlessly, you lower yourself onto it slowly - taking as much in as you can. It’s difficult and messy, tongue out to cover as much as you can. You suction your mouth slowly, hollowing your cheeks. There’s something that feels so good about having him in your mouth, something even better about watching the faces of pleasure he makes above you.

You hum in appreciation and the vibrations prove to be too much as he nearly thrusts his dick into your throat. You brace yourself for it happening again - setting an even pace. He looks good like that, drowned in pleasure and unsure of what to do with himself. You wonder if it’s been a while since he’s acting so fucking cute about it. You assume as much.

What he said before, you wonder if he was picturing it. If he felt guilty about it. The idea of him jerking off in shame over the thought of his dick in your mouth makes your spine tingle. You cup his balls in your hand, squeezing gently as you get into a steady rhythm. You feel him above you trying to hold it all in, the muscles in his abdomen tightening each time you manage to get down further. It’s hard to breathe, the back of your throat feels narrow. Your skin is on fire.

“Fuck, fuck—where’d you learn how to—fuck!”

You feel him getting ready to cum, so you pull off swiftly. A delicious, needy whine comes out of his throat that leaves you mesmerized.

“What the hell?” He mumbles, heaving. You laugh.

“Hey,” You hum, lifting his hips until you can see his hole - pink and twitching “Every had someone eat your ass?”

“Are you offering?”

“Yeah.” You say back, kissing the insides of his thighs, gripping the muscle “I wanna know if it feels good for you.”

For whatever reason, this statement in particular makes his skin tinge pink. You hold back a laugh internally.

“So fucking weird.”

“Is that a no?”

“Do whatever you want.”

You chuckle at that. You sink your teeth into him again, this time working on the build up. His muscles give tension to your incessant biting, hard bone against muscle as you mark up his thick thighs. His ass is nice like you’d expect, tight and muscular. You work your way towards his hole slowly, thumb circling the tight ring of muscle first to gauge his reaction. He shudders, making you hold back a laugh.

“Kinda sensitive,” You say amused. You can feel him glaring without having to look “You can’t cum without it now, right?”

You’re mostly saying it in jest but the prolonged silence leaves you at a loss for words. Your eyes snap up at him, watching him huff and puff in embarrassment. Heat rolls through your body.

“It’s not like I fucking can’t ever, alright?”

“You’re too cute for your own good.”

“Don’t fucking call me cute you shitty little brat.”

“But you’re acting kinda adorable, old man,” You say slyly. You stick your tongue out, licking a long stripe against him. He shakes “Blushing up a fucking storm. Been a while?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, so it’s just ‘cause it’s me then?”

He looks like a fucking cherry. You laugh.

“To think you were so against it. How’d you hide your expressions that long? Did it help you to masturbate to the thought of me fucking you?”

“Would you shut up?”

“I don’t feel like it.”

Before he can scold you any more, you let your tongue slip against the exposed rim. The reaction is tentative at first, slow licks trying to gauge if this is something he’s even into. You do it again and again, burying yourself deep. He makes a noise that you recognize to be a muffled moan. You groan in appreciation, repeating the action - letting yourself dip into the tightness of it. You can feel the muscles of his body go taut as you grip him - hands over the tops of his thighs. The action is more shameless the longer you let yourself indulge.

You’ll have to fuck him open anyways before you actually get on top. You think doing this much will make everything easier. Mostly you’re doing it because you like seeing him embarrassed. The gap in appearance vs expression never gets old. Seeing like this repeatedly proves to be novel and fuck knows if he’s gonna let you do it again any time soon. You’re more than determined to squeeze out every last ounce of his pride.

You want to see everything.

And frankly, pleasuring him like this is driving you all kinds of crazy. Not like you’ve ever been a selfish lover. Always aiming to please or whatever. But he’s got such a raw fucking sex appeal looking the way he does it’s making you drip. You’re pretty damn sure you’ve soaked through everything you have on and you’re not sure how much longer you’re gonna make it without touching yourself.

It’s all material you’re committing to memory, either way. If anyone saw him like this, you’re pretty sure they’d fall head over heels just like you. It’s hard not to give him everything he’s ever wanted Not to want to fuck him within an inch of his life, just to see his big muscular frame curl in on itself. He’d look so good all messed up, all knotted with pleasure.

You can feel it again this time, another wave of desire that makes his cock twitch. You wrap your finger around the shaft, holding it around his balls so he doesn’t cum without asking you. He lets out a noise of disapproval that you ignore, pulling your mouth away. Pre-cum dribbles out of tip. You use your finger to swipe it up and lick it.

He looks scandalized.

“Not bad. You eat clean huh.”

“You’re going to kill me someday.”

“You’re too young and too healthy to die.”

He makes a face of disapproval at you. You toss him the lube before grabbing the strap.

“Think you can work yourself open for me tough guy? Normally, I’d do it myself. Edge you out nice and slow, get you all soft. But I’m dying to fuck you already and I wanna make you cum on my cock.”

He looks at you exasperated.

“Where’d you learn to talk like that?”

“Casual sex and porn mags. You don’t like it?”

“It makes you sound your age.”

“Want me a little more suave? Tell you that I’m gonna make love to you?”

He snorts. You take off your boxers and sit up on your knees as Bakugou opens the lube in his hands. You watch him idly, mostly focusing on wiggling yourself in the harness and making sure it’s comfortable enough to fuck in.

He takes a deep breath, and you watch him reach between his legs. How it’s difficult since he’s so muscular. You almost want to help him, but instead you get between his legs again. Stood on your knees with a heavy bit of silicone weighing you down. You connect the tip to his, watching him push a finger in slowly.

“Not if you say it like that.”

“Having trouble there?”

“You piece of shit.”

“A worthless punk or something. C’mon, just say it. Ask me to finger your ass so I can fuck you. Or you want me to say something more delicate?”

“Fuck, c’mon just, help me already.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“....Please, you worthless asshole.”

You grin, grabbing the lube from the bed and squeezing it into your fingers. You laugh, leaning over him.

“Got some manners left in you after everything, huh?”

You pull him down towards him by the waist, pulling his legs up. You kiss the inside of his knees, nudging his legs apart as you position your hands, warming the lube between your fingers. He’s surprised by your strength, but you don’t do anything but grin.

“Keep your legs up for me, yeah?”

He scoffs but doesn’t go against your will. He looks good waiting for you like that, so you don’t take too much time trying to split him open. His hands are thicker than yours, so your first finger slides in like it’s nothing. He’s soft and hot on the inside, and the way he accommodates you lets you know this isn’t the first time he’s done this.

It doesn’t irritate you as much as you think it should. Maybe you’re a little screwed up to think it’s sexy but the idea of him getting fucked at any point is turn on. Once you’re down to the knuckle and you can pump in and out of him easily, you use a second finger to stretch him further. There’s more resistance so you slow, feeling up against his walls for the place you know it’ll feel good.

You know you find it because his whole body tightens up in front of you. His eyes shoot open and he’s all breathy and fucked out. You relish in it.

“Right there?”

He must be feeling good with how little he’s combating you.

“Y-yeah.”

You lean forward to plant a kiss on him again but this time it’s tender. He must feel really good because he wraps his arms around your neck to keep you there. You moan in surprise and when you pull back he looks hazed out of his mind.

“Didn’t know you could make a face like that.” You say, amused. He frowns at you.

“I’m not happy about it either.”

A laugh falls out of you and you catch the faintest whisper of a smile on his lips that has you kissing the corners of his mouth. He catches himself before he leans into it too easily, but you notice before he can shy away.

“Looks like I’m making your heart flutter. Forget the ethics for a little and let me.”

“I should toss you out of a fucking window.”

“You’re not gonna though.”

This he doesn’t reply to. You slip a third finger while he’s distracted and he gasps. This time he’s almost stretched completely. You give him a minute to breathe, swallowing up the little sounds he makes with a hearty grin. It’s so fucking good just doing this. Incredible. Way better than you could’ve ever imagined.

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you,” You say, bemused. He’s delirious enough to laugh.

“The stamina of youths scares the hell outta me.”

“I don’t wanna hear it from a retired pro.”

This time he grins. You find yourself pleased with the development.

He’s stretched now, and restless. You pull your hand away and rub the remaining slick onto the tip of your cock, giving him a look.

“Do you know how you want me?”

“It’s your fantasy fuck,” He says, semi-sarcastically “Do whatever you want.”

You laugh, tapping his ass lightly.

“Turn over and stick your ass up a little.”

“Don’t wanna see my face?”

“Wanna see how you swallow my cock up like it’s nothing, more like.”

He curses under his breath. You feel accomplished. He turns over just like you’ve asked him too and fuck the sight of him is way too much. You can’t get over it. He’s big and strong and trembling with desire and it’s driving your sex-drive as high as it can possibly go. You move so your knees are on either side of his thighs. Leaning forward, you lick up from the small of his spine all the way up his shoulder, before sinking your teeth in the junction in between.

He groans underneath you, and your hands make themself present around his hips. Most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The fucking arch and the scars and the ruggedness of all of it.

“You’re damn gorgeous.” You say, with utter and sincere appreciation “It’s driving me fucking crazy.”

“Save your smooth talk.”

“I’m bein’ serious,” You say, pulling his ass apart with your palms “Like. Woah.”

He snorts “Real poetic.”

“I barely graduated school, asshat.”

In the midst of your bantering, you let the tip of your cock slip into him slowly. It steals the words of reply out of his mouth in an instant. You can feel him melt underneath you. At the intrusion, at the feeling. At every single sensation. You feel the phantom of it in your spine. Like there’s fireworks in all your nerve-endings, just watching how his ass looks around it. Just the tip with no movement, no adjusting.

He’s silent, shuddering - holding onto a pillow. A bead of sweat rolls down his spine. He has little dimples in his back. You groan.

“Shit. Look at you.”

The praise seems to make him keen. He’s always been one to like the attention. You roll your hips, fucking another inch into him agonizingly slow. He moans like he’s deflating, breathing ragged and voice raw. You rock back and forth until there’s no longer anything to resist, then push in and in and in.

Once you bottom out with his ass against your pelvis and your hips on the back of his thighs, you lean forward and press your weight on top of him. You think he’s expecting something else, because he seems surprised. But you let yourself weigh upon him, then with a heavy grunt - cup his jaw and tilt his head to kiss him.

“You like that?”

“Shut up.”

“C’mon. Be honest. You look like you like it. Ears turning so red.”

He groans.

“In your fucking dreams.”

“Still not gonna budge huh?” You say. anchoring yourself at his sides with a deep sigh “So stubborn.”

When you feel stable enough to move, you don’t hesitate to fuck him with all of the expertise you have. You give it to him in just the right way, measure up to where he needs you but don’t give in quite enough. It’s a strenuous affair but you keep it at. A steady pace that’s hard and deep but not good enough to make him cum. Something to leave him on the edge, you fuck him just like that. The sound of skin hitting skin and short, broken moans echo in the room.

You focus on taking him like that, making sure each and every thrust is precise and calculated until he gets where you want him to be. You can practically feel when it’s starting to really get to him. When he can no longer hold himself up, so resigns to smushing his face against the pillow and going limp. You lean up, moving so you can pull his hips back with you - hovering off the bed on his knees instead of laying on his stomach.

This time you reach deeper. His whining gets louder, more in tune with everything. You laugh as you reach around him, hands gripping at the base of his cock. It takes patience to unravel him like this, matching your hands to your movements until everything is in a slow, steady synchronization. Fast but not fast enough. Hard, but not hard enough. Close but not close enough.

He lets out a heady groan that reverberates in his chest, opening his mouth finally.

“C-c’mon. Just. C’mon.”

“Aw what?” You say, rolling your hips up against him, where you know he wants you most “What is it, hm? Did you want something?”

“Fuck. Just. Fuck me already.”

“I am fucking you, though?”

“You know what I mean!”

“Oh, you want me to fuck you harder? Make you cum? I thought you didn’t like it.”

He groans, dropping against the pillows again.

“I didn’t say that. C’mon just. Please.”

His voice is hoarse when he asks. You laugh against his shoulders, listening to his requests. Giving it to him how he needs it. Harder and a little deeper, you can feel it now. How you knock into the place inside him that leaves him trembling and shaking. You can read his cues now, when he starts getting close. But of course it’s not gonna be that easy.

You keep the pace stand, putting your hand on the tip of his cock. You rub your thumb over the slit and hold it there. He sucks in a breath, whining a little.

“Wanna cum so bad?” You offer, mouth twisted in a feral grin “Tell me you love me.”

This knocks the wind out of him.

“What?”

“Say you love me with all your heart and I’ll let you cum.”

“You’ve got to be fucking with me.”

You fuck into him hard right where he needs you. He moans.

“Nah. My fantasy fuck, remember? Right now, we’re playing love birds.’ Like’ works too, I guess. If you’re too scared,” You half-way mock, starting a pace now that borders cruel “Now say it nice and sweet and I’ll let you cum.”

“You’re such a—agh, fuck,” He shudders against the bedsheets, repeating himself as you pound him. It’s easy to piston your hips. He’s so sensitive to begin with that it doesn’t take much “You’re insane.”

“C’mon, old man. Confess your feelings to me like we’re sweethearts.”

“In your dr—oh, shit.”

“What was’at? Did you wanna say something?”

You can practically feel him turn it over in his head. You’re mostly doing it to mess with him. Punishment for all of his beating around the bush and bullshitting. Getting to fuck him has been more than enough.

So you’re not expecting him to stop you. To turn over flat on his back and lay with his legs spread and wrap his arms around your waist and stare at you through hazy, flushed eyes. This time you’re really looking at him. At the lines on his face and the scruff and an expression torn with time and desire and lust. Your heart nearly falls out of your fucking ass when he wraps his arms around your neck, palming your nape and pushing your foreheads together.

When you’re nose to nose, he looks very serious all of a sudden. You swallow something in your throat, unsure of what else to do.

“Gonna say this one fucking time, only. So listen up cause I’m not gonna repeat myself.”

He’s got to be fucking with you.

“Love you..I love you or whatever. But that doesn’t mean—”

Before he can finish his sentence, you put your hands up under his knees and fuck him for all you’ve got. Half-way as revenge for the shitty confession and half-way because if you think too long about what he’s saying you’re pretty sure you’re going to collapse.

He sounds good under you, as you fist his cock and laugh in absolute fucking delight. You stare at him hard. At his fucked out expression. You’re gonna cuss him out as soon as this shit is over, you swear. What an asshole.

“O-oh, oh fuck, I’m gonna, g-gonna cum.”

You goad him cause you aren’t sure what else you should do at this point.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock? Show it to me. Let me see what you look like.”

The words are enough to push him over the edge. He gets unraveled right before your eyes, his whole body pulled like a bow before losing all the tension. You can feel his cock twitching hotly in your palms. Thick strings of white covering your fingers as you fuck him through it. He sounds so perfect like that, so fucking good for you. You can feel your whole body ready to give out just watching.

When Bakugou finally finishes, he releases you from his grip. You pull out only seconds after, staring at his flushed state in wide-eyed disbelief.

“Were you serious?” You ask, because it’s the only thing you can think to ask. He sighs, tired.

“Yeah.”

Where the hell is this dudes class?

“Fuck.”

He laughs, laid down before poking his head back up to stare at you.

“You didn’t cum yet.” It’s more of a statement than a question. You shake your head.

“Not yet. I can take care of it.”

He clicks his teeth.

“No way. Come ‘ere.”

You undo the harness of your strap before crawling over to where he’s laid. You end up standing on your knees. He props himself up on his elbows, and you look down at him absolutely mesmerized. He crinkles his nose at you.

“That fucking lovesick look on your face is gross.”

“Been like this for four years.”

He flushes.

You stand in front of him, bare on your knees. He reaches forward, brushing the hair over the hood of your clit gently.

“You’re so wet.” He murmurs. You laugh.

“Yeah, no shit.” You say, too tired to do much arguing “Lemme borrow your mouth,”

He snorts “Got it.”

You fist your hands into his hair and tug, bringing his open mouth to your clit with a sigh. Your cunts sort from being pushed into and neglected. Even the barest brush of his mouth is making you shiver. Bakugou must know a little something about this, because he latches onto you without thinking twice. The sudden added pressure has heat building your stomach at the speed of light. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so on edge in such a short period of time.

Plus looking down at him while you hump against his face is enthralling.

“You’d make a cute little wife, old man,” You say thoughtfully, dull pleasure aching as you tuf his hair at the root “You can cook, clean, bake and you know how to use your mouth fucking perfectly.”

He gives you a look of exasperation, but the warmth down his neck tells you he likes it. You laugh, throwing your head back. The visible sight of arousal flowing down his chin and making his face messy is making you more horny than you know what to do with. You don’t have the energy to cum more than once but you’re sure when you wake you you’re gonna be horny all over again.

You try not to think too hard about it as you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter before unraveling all at once. Your insides are hotter than lava, the entire lower half convulsing as the strength in your thighs and legs gets lost gradually. Bakugou sucks until you’re nearly overstimulated, and you have to pull him away before it really gets to be too much for you.

“You taste good.” He says thoughtfully. You laugh.

“Got plenty more if you want it.”

“We should clean up.”

“You’re not kicking me out?”

“I’m not a villain, damn it.”

“You feel like one for that loser ass confession, but I’ll let it slide. I need a fucking nap though. Getting my ass kicked and having incredible sex in the same day is exhausting.”

He laughs as you lay down besides him, sitting up. Even in your half exhausted state, you catch the feeling of his lips on your forehead.

“Get some rest you brat.”

You wake up in a familiar bed.

If the sore feeling of laying pipe wasn’t in your hips, you’re pretty damn sure you just woke up out of a dream. What the fuck just happened to you? Your back and body is sore, but you’re clean like you’ve been wiped down. You’re stark naked though.

The idea that he could give you a wipe but not dress you makes you laugh. When you sit up, all of your clothes are sitting still on a chair. There’s some new clothes on top of them though, his clothes. You stand to your feet, your back cracking as loud as possible as you examine the wounds. You have some hickies now (when the hell did he leave those) and when you turn there’s some scratches on your back. You feel self-satisfaction as you get dressed. You should hit the showers when you feel less lethargic.

When you’ve reconciled with the fact you didn’t just conjure up what happened a few hours ago, you trek back into the living room. You find Bakugou where you expect him, bent over the stove making dinner. You lean on the frame of the door with a grin before walking over to him.

You don’t hesitate in sliding your hands on his waist under his tank top. Better, he doesn’t react like you’ve shot him dead. A laugh blooms in your chest.

“Morning grandpa.”

“You fucking—if you don’t sit down.”

You snort, but sit yourself down at the counter like you did a few hours ago.

“Whatcha making for dinner.”

“Grilled fish and rice. There’s sides.”

“Sounds healthy.”

His ears turn red.

‘“You have work tomorrow but you need to recover.”

You couldn’t smile more if you fucking tried.

“We gonna talk about what just happened,” You ask, pouring yourself a glass of water as you sit down. You take a long sip “Or are you gonna pretend to keep washing rice?”

He sighs, putting down the dry rice and the cup to measure. He almost looks furious, but he’s too cute for it to mean anything to you. You grin.

“Hey. Fucking. Look. Alright. You’re way too fucking young. I’m old enough to be your father a-and you only just barely got your life together, so yes I told you whatever I told you. But no fucking funny business until you’re at least 25 and your brain is developed more than a peanut.”

You nod..

“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda a coward old man?” You say thoughtfully. He looks pissed again but it’s too funny for you to care “What’s funny business? Sex? Cause if it is, I’ve got bad news.”

“We just. We have to be careful.”

“So I can kiss, hug, fuck you in private but keep it outta the press?”

He stares at you, scratching his neck. “Yeah. Basically.”

You give him a thumbs up, grabbing a snack off the tray on his table. Chips, the fancy kind. They’re good.

“Got it. Can I stay over? I don’t feel like driving down to my hotel this late.”

“....You’re not pissed?”

You laugh.

“Are you kidding? I wasn’t mad the first time cause you rejected me, I was mad cause you were acting all fucking ethical and holier-than-thou. I figured it was gonna be something like that anyway. And I’m not much of a romantic, so dates and shit are whatever to me,”

“Forreal?”

“Yeah. Having sex and staying over to hang out for a while is cool. It was your fat head worrying about it, not mine. Did Mr. Deku managed to talk you out of your crisis while I was asleep?”

He gives you a look. Bullseye again.

“You two keep in touch?”

“He’s a good dude and he buys me a meal when I’m short on change. Jealous?”

He turns away from you before answering. His ears are burning. You feel your heart squeeze.

What shit taste you’ve got being head over heels for this old bastard, you wonder.

“Just shut up and eat your chips.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #writing tag #age gap cw #the craziest part of this is me reading this back and thinking. oh man. i could make this so much longer #im tainted beyond repair #the fact this is ONLY 10k is quite literally a miracle

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homestylehughes · 5 months

Text

jack Hughes- noise

noise- jack hughes

summary: where jack is the only noise you ever want to hear.

wc:725

PSAAAA: hiii!!! if you clicked on this story thank you so much!! I'm new to writing on tumblr so I'm still learning!! so pls be nice ( I promise I'll get better) anyways hope you enjoy, let me know what you think below (omfg I'm sorry this is so long I'll stfu now<3)

fic below:

time is moving slowly, each time i look at the clock. time is moving slower and slower. I used to love being alone, i used to love my noiseless life, or the noises that i found simple and easy. like the noise of my ac blowing when doing my homework. or the occasional noise of my favorite records i’d play, and dance too around my apartment at 2 am. now i have a different type of noise in my life, jack hughes.

if you would have told me a year and half ago, i be waiting to hear noise fill up my life and apartment; i’d tell you you’re crazy. my noise being jack hughes. there’s nights like these where i really want him here, to feel his noise.

the devils lost to the Sharks tonight 6-3. after coming off a 3 game heater, i knew this loss would be hard for them. for him. i waited for him to call, to hear the noise of his ringtone, for it to ring through my ears. constantly glancing at the clock on my wall, as i see the time ticking by, slower and slower. i just wanted to hear my favorite noise. after most losses, jack didn’t come over. i respected that, i knew he needed space sometimes, and i would always give that too him. but right now i was missing my noise, i wanted nothing more than to grab my keys and head out the door, drive 40 minutes to his place. i wanted nothing more than to call in 15 times, spam him with texts, to let him know that i missed him and that i’m here for him. that i missed his noise.

the game ended 3 hours ago. i keep looking at the clock, time is still moving slowly. i make my way to my bedroom, throwing on one jacks shirts. i slowly make my way to my bed, a bed that feels cold without him. i close my eyes, and try to think of something that can send me off to sleep. all of my thoughts are about jack, and how much i miss his smile. his laugh. his sassy comments. his kisses, oh god how much i miss his kisses. and most importantly his noise. my thoughts are starting to slowly fade, my eyes start to slowly close. as my eyes flutter close for the last time.

i hear a pounding at my door, i glance at my clock and the time reads 3:30 am. who’s here at 3:30 am? i slowly make my way through my apartment, turning a light in the hallway, in which i immediately regret. i turn the handle at the door, not knowing who to expect. my mind goes foggy when i see jack standing in my hallway. all my thoughts are immediately consumed by him again. all of my thoughts are consumed by his noise.

“hi” i say, as i look at jack who’s still standing in the hallway outside my apartment. “hi” jack breathes back out to me. our eyes never leave each other. i can’t take the space anymore, i can’t take the silence. i need his noise.

i pull him into my apartment and slam the door behind us. the next thing i know is jacks body slamming into mine. pulling me into the biggest and tightest hug ive ever received. we stand in my living room of my apartment, embraced in each other arms. no words need to be said between us. i slowly pull apart, too look into his eyes. scanning his face to see any sign of injury, instead all i find is love and calmness.

i grab his hand and led him into my room. knowing my bed will no longer be cold with him in it. no other words have been exchanged yet, no other words need to be exchanged. we get into bed, and jack quickly pulls me into his flush body.

i can feel his noise. i can hear his noise. the steady sound of his breathing. the sound of his heart beating beneath me. this is all i need. his noise. my favorite noise jack. my jack. i slowly fall asleep to the sound of his noise, and now i'm no longer alone. my noise, my home is back.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #jack hughes #new jersey devils #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x y/n

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staytinyville · 7 months

Text

Stay Alive (14)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N NOT BETA READ (I did try the best to my ability) As normally! I love all your expressions over the whole chapter. Keep them coming! I love you guys!

While looking over some papers having to do with Jungkook and Namjoon, the other nurses were sitting around your desk area, idly working. Another nurse had walked in and started giving out trays of food meant for the patients. You gave her a thankful smile when she handed you Namjoon’s food. Jungkook had to get his nutrients through an IV due to him still being in a coma.

“Eun Ae.” You heard the lunch nurse speak up. “You have to take Min Yoongi his food.” She told the other lady.

You looked up from gathering your things, noticing it was the nurse who stormed out of Yoongi’s room the first day you met him. She gave the cup given to him a deadly glare before crossing her arms in defiance.

“No!” Eun Ae sneered. “I refuse to see him.” She gave you a look. “Tell the new girl to do it.”

You raised your brows the moment they all turned to look at you. You gripped Namjoon’s food tray tighter from all the eyes. But lucky you, the nurse decided to spare you the attention.

“The new girl isn't Yoongi's nurse.” She glared at Aun Ae.

“Well I say she is now.” Eun Ae answered aggressively. She shoved some papers on her desk to the side, picking up the other lunch trays given to her. “I am done with his tantrums and sour personality. He is the devil's favorite and I don't need that kind of energy.” With that she strutted off to visit her other patients.

The nurse turned around to face you with an irritated expression. However it wasn’t directed towards you with the way she sighed to calm herself before speaking to you.”(Y/N)?” She called. “Would you be a dear and take this to Min Yoongi. He's in room 2.”

“Yes.” You spoke up. She handed you his tray, filled with only a styrofoam cup with a straw on the side.

The lid kept you from seeing what kind of drink it was but it must have been some kind of smoothie from how heavy it made the tray. From over the cap., you could easily make out the red color that swished around inside.

“Is this it?” You frowned when you noticed how much more Namjoon seemed to have. You moved Yoongi’s cup onto Namjoon’s tray in order to not struggle so much.

“Yes?” The nurse frowned, confused. “Why do you ask?”

“Well it's just a drink.” You explained.

The nurse suddenly looked at you oddly. She was trying to figure out if you were serious or truly not in the loop about the whole thing. “Do you not know why he's here?”

“No?” You told her, tilting your head. “He's not my patient.”

“Right. Right.” She said, nodding her head. “Well that's because it's what he eats.” She added with a shrug.

“Just a drink?” You asked incredulously.

“(Y/N),” She turned back to you with a questionable look. “Do you not know he's a v-”

“Hui Geom!” Someone rushed into the office, panting. “Mina won't stop screaming!” They called in a rush, hands covering their ears.

“Aish, that girl.” Hui Geom didn’t get to finish what she was going to tell you.

You sighed to yourself, deciding it best to just move on with your day. With Yoongi’s room being one of the first you would come across, you found it easier to just drop off his one cup. You knocked on the door–as one should–before entering when there was shuffling on the other side. The lights were turned off as usual the moment you walked in.

“Yoongi?” You called out. “I got your food.” The night light from last time you were in his room was suddenly turned on and you could make out his silhouette walking over to you.

Your lips pulled into a smile as you could make out his round cheeks and fluffy hair. When he was close enough, you handed him the regular size cup. He grabbed it from the bottom, trying to avoid touching your fingers.

“Ya know, I don't think just a smoothie is very healthy.” You explained to him.

His hands were quick to cover the lid, turning around to avoid you staring at it. “It's what I eat.” He shrugged.

“What is it?” You asked as he took a sip from the straw.

With him turned from you, you hadn’t seen how his eyes rolled to the back of his head or how black veins turned up under them and stretched down halfway to his cheeks.

“Cherry?” He spoke without thinking. He lightly turned to you, the dark room keeping you from seeing his face fully. “You just going to watch me eat?” He asked when he noticed you were still standing in the room.

You tried to keep from frowning. His words stung but he didn’t mean them in a harsh way. He probably just didn’t like when people watched him eat like you knew a lot of others did.

“Oh, would you like for me to leave?” You asked him, feet shuffling around.

Your eyes were downcasted down, making Yoongi feel upset about making you leave the room. However he knew that he couldn’t have you watch him eat. He turned into a monster when he would eat. He knew you had no clue about their existence and he would rather keep it that way for the time being.

Seeing you look so sad over leaving his room, had him speaking before he realized it. “I'll go get you when I'm done.” He spoke up, causing you to look at him.

“That's fine, I guess.” You smiled softly. He felt relieved you understood. Hopefully you just thought he didn’t like when people watched him eat. And that was exactly what you had been thinking.

Just as you went to turn around and open the door, someone swung it open without knocking.

“Hyung!” Taehyung cried out, rushing forward without a care and turning on the lights. Both yours and Yoongi’s eyes squinted before they adjusted to the new scene.

“I accidentally exploded while working with my energy and I gave myself a really bad gash.” The boy was holding onto his shit to keep it off his skin. “Jungkook obviously can’t lick it so can I have some of your bloo-” His eyes went wide when they landed on you.

“Oh. Hi, Jagiya.” Taehyung dropped his shirt, arms still held at a length away. There was a goofy smile on his face but you could see how he panicked inside by glancing between you and Yoongi.

“Hi, Taehyung?” You questioned, eyes drifting to his torso that he seemed to avoid touching.

He held his arms at his side but didn’t let them rest. He was probably in pain from the injury he supposedly got and didn’t want to touch it.

“Why don't you ask Hobi?” Yoongi sighed, walking closer to the boy.

“You know he can't heal me.” Taehyung said pointedly.

“Taehyung, your nurse is supposed to take care of your injuries.” You butted in, hands moving to hold onto Taehyung. “Let me see.” As your fingers moved to the bottom of his shirt, he allowed you to softly shift it up.

You gasped, almost letting go of the fabric. You crochet down in front of him, trying to get a closer look at the injury. It covered the entirety of Taehyung's left side starting from just under his armpit down to waist. It looked like he had tried to move out of whatever hit him so it only caused a scrape.

Due to this it did look like Tarhyung had just fallen onto cement on his side. However the thing that worried you was that it didn’t look like a regular scrap that would boil over with blood. The injury was black as his skin looked bruised as well.

“How did you do this?” You asked incredulously. “What kind of injury even is this?” You wanted to touch his skin to get a better look but went against it for fear of hurting the man.

Yoongi sighed behind you as he leaned back from inspecting it. “I got it, (Y/N).” He told you, taking a hold of your body and moving you towards the door. “Thank you for the food, but give me a moment and I'll heal him.” He explained.

His hand moved down to comfort you but the moment it touched your skin you flinched back. “Your hand is freezing.” You gasped, taking a hold of it. You brought it up to your mouth to blow on it and warm them up between your own. However, as your fingers danced down to his wrists you realized the rest of his arm was cold.

You shook your head as you convinced yourself it was probably just the air conditioning. Like how Namjoon’s body was hot because of the shower. Your mind was playing tricks on you again.

“Also how do you know how to heal Tae?” You shook your head, eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him.

“Yes, my skin is cold.” Yoongi spoke quickly, softly punching you outside into the hallway. “Now if you'll excuse us.” He avoided your last question. You were brought out your stupor when the door clicked shut.

With Namjoon’s food tray in hand, you went back over what Taehyung had said. He mentioned Jungkook, but knew that he wouldn’t be of help because the boy was asleep. However his words did leave you stumped.

“Why would Jungkook lick him?”

Series Masterlist

Too all the tags that are not working, please contact me or check and make sure I am able to tag. I’ve tried multiple times but for some reason your blogs will not pop up. Thank you!

@h3arteyes4mingi , @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @rinkud, @rln-byg , @singukieee , @hoshi-is-ult-bbg , @ldysmfrst , @k-p0p-4ever , @shadowyjellyfishfest , @forestsquirrel , @juju-227592 , @alienchickenpoop , @

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splitster · 6 months

Text

answering ASKSSSSS

featuring: headcanons, mspaint yonny, and more

check it out! ↓↓

UHH the timeline is already hard enough to follow for 4 it's a little messy... I imagine for the pom wraith AU, it's mostly the events of pikmin 4 with some extra bits tacked onto it (like Olimar encountering the plasm at some point on his lonesome).

WAHHH THANK YOU... heres some secret mod lore, yonny is the HARDEST motherfucker to draw for me. he was ever since i started drawing the rescue corps and he still is!!!!!!!!!!!! his stupid face is so HARD GRRUUAUUGGHH

THANK YOU!!! i have a few bernard drawings/doodles in the pipeline to post eventually

(ive done a few ask masterposts at this point so forgive me if i already answered this one) AHHHHH i mean pom DOES really like Olimar. he challenges her skills out on the field when she's trying to track him down as a leafling which she finds engaging, and she finds him quite charming from the logs she reads. after he's cured, he's nothing but kind and supportive.

i don't think she'd try to take off with him like the plasm, but she'd feel protective over him if something were to threaten him

WAUUGGHH THANK YOU!!!! putting my favorite fictional characters into an enclosure and watching them

THANK YOU!!! you get it, he's so wet and pathetic

YEAH i have more bernard incoming!!! he's so genuinely supportive and it kinda freaks pom out because she can't tell if he has ulterior motivations or not (he doesn't. he's just a really cool dude. they'll become besties💖)

i'll perform the summoning ritual for you anon

there he is. what a jolly fellow

THIS IS A REALLY GOOD QUESTION... i had to consult with my friends for a lengthy food discussion (big hearts to @cosmicocoffee who helped me with like literally all of them)

for Pom, she's a wraith, so she just likes interesting and strong tastes. she's very partial to sweet things, and she LOVES chocolate (because that's one of the first sweets she ever tasted). although, she also like really spicy things because it's a neat feeling. as for least favorite, uh... i mean, the girl will literally eat soap for fun. it's very rare for her to have a food item she despises. they DO exist though, she fucking hates raisins

Dingo likes MANLY food, like MEAT and RIBS. well, he mostly likes being seen eating it. he does have a fondness for sweet things and smoothies. the town he grew up in could get pretty cold, so he grew up eating quite a lot of hot meals like caldo de res (he's especially fond of soups made the way his mama used to make them). he also picks up a fondness for hot tea from growing up with yonny, but he always puts extra honey in his cups. dingo HATES some foods though, especially sushi. the last time he tried to impress people by eating sushi, Dingo was hunched over outside the restaurant with Yonny rubbing his back...

shepherd! likes coffee. @soupvnova said she'd go to starbucks (spacebucks?) often to get the pup cup for oatchi which is very good. she has the healthiest diet out of all of them with routine exercise, protein shakes, lots of fruits and shit. she does have a weakness and a bit of a sweet tooth though, especially for cake. it hardly puts a dent in her diet though given her metabolism, she's a very built captain. she's not a fan of steamed vegetables... too squishy for her.

while talking about shepherd it is imperative to share that Oatchi will eat ANYTHING. if something hits the ground it is in his mouth immediately, shepherd has had to wrestle him to get space dog-unsafe food outta there before. although she will also constantly sneak him stuff from the dinner table

collin's fun because he enjoys eating healthy, he's a fan of fresh spring salads and stuff like pineapples and watermelon, but he also has to live off of a lot of processed/vending machine food because the man pulls all nighters frequently. he's also prone to stress eating... you can find him demolishing a watermelon and he's just. covered with seeds. he likes crunchy foods and seeds-- he's very hamstercore. he comes to Despise instant noodles because of how often he has to rely on them for food in the dead of night

fucking uhhh yonny, he likes foods that pair well with reading, he has pretty "mature" tastes and enjoys tea, maybe a glass of wine if he's feeling it. he often gets tunnel vision with his work and will neglect to eat, and as their doctor he'll have to set reminders on his phone to go have a meal so he doesn't fall ill. i can imagine he's not too into sugary things...

we already know bernard has some very expensive tastes, but he might just struggle with some textures or tastes in food. like, he enjoys pizza, this man is just a very picky eater... i can see him having tastes all over the board though. also he's protective over his stuff, he cared more about dingo eating his pizza than abandoning him

russ. uh... russ. yeah

olimar and louie are not part of the rescue corps, but i could see olimar joining (and louie following) sometime after the events of 4! he'd get a much better benefits package... he'd be good at providing logistical support for rangers out on the field, although his achy back would probably keep him off the field himself

AHH THANK YOU!! i have written some things but i don't have anything published -- to be honest, i'm not much of a fic writer. most of my writing is mostly just me talking through ideas/stories/cool character moments with friends, which is not a very shareable format unfortunately💔

i will say, talking about ideas with buddies gives me a shit load of ideas/motivation for drawing, and a lot of the stuff i've posted probably had that as an origin

THANK YOU!! and yeah of course that's fine! every artist is a collection of inspirations, and i'm no exception. my style comes from studying what i like in art and media (made by other people). i'm honored you find me as an inspiration💖

AUGH AUGH THANK YOU!!! i appreciate the anatomically correct hearts 💖💖

YEAHH i have designs that i've been meaning to flesh out but i'm lazy... i've been sitting on a dingo and yonny wraith design for like a month now, i should just bite the bullet and post them as-is if i ever want to share them... oh well! it's all for fun, i'm not gonna stress about it looking good

---

thank you for reading this far!! and thank you all for the asks, i will continue to slowly get through them...

#modask #modpost #thank you for the asks!! sorry this one took a while

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danaewrites · 2 months

Text

Helmet Over Heels

part i: the winter of our discontent

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.8k

summary: When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives.

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

hello and welcome to my first ever mando fic!! i binged the entirety of the first two seasons in a week to get me through tedious internship work and accidentally fell in love with our favorite space dad and his cute green child along the way. oops (i regret nothing)

with the outline i currently have for this fic, it’ll be around 11-12 chapters, although that’s likely to grow as we get deeper into the story. the posting schedule might be anywhere from once a week to once a month, but this wip *will* be finished.

the second chapter's scheduled to upload next week as a little treat for y'all, so if you want to catch it then hit that follow button or ask to be added to my taglist! ;)

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv coming soon!

You watched the last of tonight’s drunken patrons stumble out of the cantina and into the bitter Nath night with a relieved sigh. Wiping your hands on the stained apron tied around your waist, you fished a set of bronze keys out of a tiny pocket and began your nightly walk around the perimeter of the bar, locking doors and pulling down rusty shutters as you went. The cantina was silent aside from your quiet shuffling– a welcome reprieve from its usual crowded bustle and chatter so hectic you could barely hear your own thoughts.

You hummed softly as you adjusted booths back to their original positions and swept crumbs off of battered tabletops, wishing that the small holospeaker at the edge of the room hadn’t been broken in a recent bar fight. Swaying to its pre-Imperial oldies throughout your long, exhausting shifts had been one of the only perks of working in this run-down cantina, but without the soothing ambience of music, a chill threatened to sink into your bones and paralyze you with the deep depression this side of the planet seemed to have succumbed to.

You never planned to stay here for as long as you had. No one really did, except for criminals who knew that no one would willingly come here to search for them and locals who had never known anything else. Nath might have been charming, once– all soft snowflakes and peaceful walks under sepia-toned streetlights– but that was before the Empire had destroyed every semblance of comfort and culture and replaced them with brutalist brick structures that were already crumbling under the weight of their makers’ crimes. The fear lingered long after the Imps had finally left the post, reflected in the sad eyes of the fishmongers’ children and the way one would be hard-pressed to find a factory worker who didn’t spend his nights nursing a bottle and the ghosts of blaster scars across his back.

You had your own scars, of course, but you still held out hope that things would change and you’d make it out of here– although that hope was gradually diminishing as off-world shuttles visited less and less frequently and the permanent winter worsened. Five years ago, you’d been unceremoniously dropped off at the town’s dingy port, forced to land after your shuttle to Corellia was damaged by an unexpected detour through an asteroid field. You’d taken the cantina job thinking you’d only stay long enough to pay for passage on an outgoing ship, but soon learned that any shuttle risking the terrible weather to land here would also charge an exorbitant boarding price– one that would take you years to afford with the meager pay you received. And your tentative plan of stowing away on a spice freighter and sneaking off once it arrived at its destination (you weren’t picky about where, so long as it wasn’t Nath) was tempered by the increasingly likelihood that you’d get blown to pieces the minute you entered space by one of the pirate gangs that ruled the atmosphere these days. So– you were stuck here, at least for now.

The smell of something burning in the back of the cantina drew you out of your thoughts. Cursing, you raced to the kitchen, where your dinner was quickly blackening on the stove. Kriff. You shut off the burner, staring at the charred mess before you for a few seconds before dejectedly scraping it into an almost-overflowing trash bin. Well, there went your plan to eat quickly and head to your tiny flat before the storm outside worsened. Your rental pod had barely enough space for your bed and a miniscule bathroom, so you had to use the cantina kitchen if you wanted to stay fed– but the stove here was so old, it took half an hour longer than usual to cook anything. You resigned yourself to another night sleeping in a booth, since the flurry outside would prevent you from navigating your way home safely.

You sliced up a few vegetables and set them to simmer in a pot with the last of the herbed broth and sandseed noodles from today’s lunch special, glancing at the bin next to you. It was probably a good idea to take out the foul-smelling waste before you were sealed in next to it all night. Wrinkling your nose at the unappealing scraps of food threatening to fall off the top of the pile, you hefted the bin up and maneuvered it through the back door of the cantina, being careful not to stain your apron any more than it already was. The harsh winds nipped at every sliver of exposed skin and dusted your hair with a pearlescent sheen of snow, making you wish you’d thought to slip on something warmer than your thin blouse and trousers before leaving the protection of the kitchen.

You navigated through the blizzard to the end of the dark alleyway behind the cantina, your path lit only by two buzzing lamps at each end of the narrow corridor. You scrunched your face up against the cold, willing yourself to keep walking despite your extremely limited night vision. Just a few more steps, and then you’d be free of your compostable burden for the night. You turned the corner, stepping to the left where you knew the trash compactor was, and immediately collided with a giant hunk of metal.

Said hunk of metal cursed loudly as it stumbled head-first over the garbage bin you’d dropped in shock after the impact, falling forward into the snow. “Dank ferrik!”

Your eyes grew wide as the glow of the flickering streetlights illuminated the very-much-alive Mandalorian lying in front of you. It was just your luck that you’d managed to potentially injure the kind of warrior you’d only heard about in hushed rumors, or at least someone who was wearing the armor of one. Okay, injure was a strong word, but all that cold, hard beskar couldn’t be very comfortable to fall on despite the protection it offered.

“Stars, I’m so sorry, let me–”

You reached forward, stretching out a hand to help the Mandalorian up when a small green head suddenly popped up out of a tawny bag slung across their side. You yelped in surprise, losing your balance on the icy road and toppling forward. You winced, bracing yourself and preparing for the inevitable impact– except right as you were about to hit the ground, one steel-clad arm shot out to grab your wrist while the other steadied your hips. You gasped at the warmth of the unexpected contact, pulse quickening as you stared at the–man? person?–beneath you, the only thing preventing you from a nasty collection of bruises appearing across your side tomorrow.

A deep baritone sounded from the helmet– likely modulated, from the slightly grainy tone. “Are you alright?”

Definitely a man, then. You pointedly ignored the butterflies that stirred to life in your stomach at the sound of his voice, praying that he would attribute your shiver to the cold and nothing more. Stars, this was getting more embarrassing by the minute. You tucked away the thought, making a note to do some serious soul-searching later on about the depth of your touch-starvation and its potential impact on your mental state.

You gave a quick nod, muttering your thanks and carefully rolling to the side as you dusted clumps of snow off of your trousers. You looked up at him to see him gently picking up the little green creature you’d been so startled by earlier and tucking it back into the bag, pulling his cloak over its head to shield it from the chill. That was… rather cute, actually. You thought Mandalorians were supposed to be scary fighters, dedicated to nothing but their Creed, but this one was clearly fond of the small thing clinging to him. You couldn’t blame him; the green creature’s big ears and bug eyes were adorably endearing.

The cold winds picked up pace, and you wondered why anyone would be out here during such a storm as you got to your feet. Anyone local would have sought shelter hours ago, and no freighter would dare to land in such conditions.

“Are you... lost?” You tentatively asked. “Can I help you find someone?”

The Mandalorian remained silent for several long seconds, helmet tilted slightly. Whatever he saw in your face seemed to have settled well with him, and he released a quiet huff through the modulator.

“I need to get food. For my son,” he eventually admitted, gesturing to the baby peeking up at you.

“Oh!” You brightened up considerably as you remembered the flavorful soup you’d started earlier. “Well– I work in a cantina back there,” you said, pointing behind you at the rusted door that led to the kitchen.

“We’re technically closed right now, but I’m sure I can work something out.” You winked at the curious child, smiling as he let out a happy babble.

The Mandalorian’s helmet hadn’t moved from its focus in your direction, and you suddenly felt nervous. Which seemed stupid, because–yeah, it felt intense, but was he even looking at you from behind the dark visor of his helmet? For all you knew, he was making the most ridiculous expression at you behind all that beskar and you’d never know. The absurd thought made you snicker softly. If no one could see your face, you’d definitely act goofy at people all the time.

The Mandalorian’s head tilted slightly, and whoops, he’d definitely noticed your little moment now if he hadn’t been paying attention before. Your face reddened and you quickly gestured for him to follow you as you unlocked the door to the kitchen, relieved when you heard the soft clink of his armor come through the doorway behind you.

You placed your hands on your hips, surveying the dimly lit cantina and deciding to lead the duo to a worn table close to the bar. It looked unassuming, but the chairs were the comfiest in the cantina and you figured the baby would appreciate something softer than the coarse bag he’d been in.

Once they’d gotten settled in, you set about finding a mug of blue milk for the kid and some water for the Mandalorian. You brought the drinks over to the pair, hiding a smile at how eagerly the little green baby reached for his.

“You’re pretty thirsty, huh?” You observed as the baby slurped up the cerulean beverage. Shooting the tall, beskar-clad man a glance out of the corner of your eye, you continued, “Must have been quite the trip. Most people don’t usually travel to this side of the galaxy for vacation.”

To your disappointment, the Mandalorian remained as still and stoic as ever. Well, that just wouldn’t do. He was your first visitor in years from anywhere outside of Nath, and you were absolutely not letting him leave without getting a bit of juicy detail on life outside of your current drudgery. You decided to go for another angle.

“You know, kids need good role models in their lives. Ones that show them how to socialize with others and communicate. Display generosity of the loquacious sort, even.” You shrugged innocently in your best attempt to mimic the overly casual air the old women at the tea shop always used before passive-aggressively attempting to set you up with their stay-at-home-nephews. “Never too late to start.”

You got the distinct feeling that he was laughing at you under that helmet. Rude. Huffing, you sat down across the table from him and crossed your arms, trying to guess where under his visor his eyes were. Once you were half-confident that you’d found the spot, you stared intensely at it with your most intimidating expression. Which wasn’t saying much, seeing as you had the firepower of a soggy Lothkitten and probably came off as more desperate than anything.

“Isn’t there some sort of honor code for Mandalorians? One that includes being noble to strangers and whatnot?”

No response. Argh.

“Well, I’d consider it pretty noble to provide a lonely soul such as myself with a bit of storytelling entertainment on this frigid evenin–”

Your final attempt at prying some information out of the armored man was interrupted by the sound of the kitchen timer beeping increasingly louder and louder until you were sure the whole cantina was vibrating with the tinny noise.

“KRIFF, not again!”

You bolted out of your seat towards the kitchen, but not before you heard a thinly disguised huff of amusement coming out of the modulator. Okay, he was definitely laughing at you.

Once you’d successfully saved the soup from imminent destruction-via-cursed-stove and somewhat regained your pride, you finally made your way back to the table with three steaming bowls of noodles. You placed the smallest one in front of the child, who cooed happily and immediately began plopping his hands in the bowl. The Mandalorian huffed in exasperation and began prying little green fingers out of the bowl. “Hey. Quit that, we talked about this,” he grumbled. You winced as broth sloshed out of the bowl, landing dangerously close to the baby’s tunic. The kid’s lower lip started to tremble, a blaring warning sign that a tantrum was going to occur in approximately ten seconds if he wasn’t distracted from his current petulant state.

“Oh– hey, bug, don’t do that,” you said as both father and son turned to look at you. You leaned closer to the wide-eyed baby and pointed to his bowl. “That’s pretty hard to scoop up, yeah? Look, there are easier ways to eat it,” you explained as you brought the bowl up to your lips and raised an eyebrow, hoping that he would do the same. The kid blinked up at you for several long seconds before turning to his father with outstretched hands. The Mandalorian sighed, but held up the dish as requested. You hid a smile behind your bowl at the sight.

“Good job! Okay, now we’re going to try something fun–” You mimed slurping up the soup with a silly face at the baby, who burbled something incomprehensible in response but finally followed your example and focused on his food.

When you were sure that the baby’s clothes were no longer in danger of being drenched by broth– and by extension, frozen stiff whenever the pair headed back into the storm–you quietly tucked into your own meal, closing your eyes at the warm memories the comforting flavours brought. Not for the first time, you missed the earthy smell and placid weather of your homeworld, a stark contrast to this icy prison of a planet.

“You are… good with him.”

Your eyes darted up to find the Mandalorian’s helmet angled directly at you. Your face heated at the observation and you gave a small laugh, willing yourself to resist fidgeting under his gaze.

“I– thank you, I’ve always liked kids. Used to volunteer in the nursery back home, actually, before the Empire stole every resource from it they could.”

Your eyes widened with sudden realization. “You’re not Imperial, are you?”

The Mandalorian scoffed vehemently, the most emotion he’d displayed since he’d fallen back in the alley. “No.”

Well, that answered a few questions at least. You were prepared to move on from the conversation when he hesitantly spoke, “My ship ran into a few… asteroids. Is there a mechanic nearby?”

You set down your spoon, thinking. The closest asteroid field was four solar systems away and almost entirely inaccessible if one was traveling through hyperspace, so the likelihood that he’d truly run into one was small. In that case, he probably had damage from some kind of fight— seeing as the average pacifist wouldn’t need that much armor— and would want someone reliable who wasn’t going to ask questions about laser-sized holes in his ship’s hull.

He hadn’t tried to kill or rob you yet, so you figured his personal tussles were none of your business and decided to give him an honest recommendation. You directed him to a small mechanical hub close to the ice huts where there were few ships and even fewer nosy citizens. “The owner, Sanna, is the best in town,” you admitted. “I haven’t had the chance to visit her personally, but she’s known for being very discreet.”

He nodded, entering the coordinates you’d given him into some sort of device on his wrist. You tried to contain your pleased expression at correctly guessing his reason for being on Nath. And it had only taken you… well, four tries, but that was better than nothing!

“What is your price?”

You blinked, confused. “My price?”

There was that increasingly frequent head tilt again. His helmet tipped forward, scanning you. “For the food. And information.” He clarified slowly.

“Oh,” you spoke, surprised. “It’s okay, I was making dinner for myself anyway. And you’d have found out the location of the mechanic from someone else eventually,” you shrugged.

You couldn’t see his face, but from the disbelieving tone of his voice you imagined his eyebrows to be raised. “Not many people would turn down credits.”

You winced, reminded of your costly dream to get off-world, but there was no way you’d accept this stranger’s money for such a small favor when he had a kid he needed to provide for. “Yeah, well. Guess I’m not most people,” you laughed sheepishly.

The Mandalorian muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like no, you definitely are not. You squinted at him accusingly.

“Hey, you better not be making fun of my interrogation tactics, metal man.” You leaned forward to poke his soup bowl emphatically. Hm, that was strange– he hadn’t so much as touched it. Did Mandalorians follow some kind of special diet? You resolved to look that up the next time you had access to a datapad.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing that to a lonely soul like yourself.” He responded dryly.

You gasped in mock offense, forgetting your previous train of thought and internally groaning that he’d remembered that part of your disastrous attempt to weasel information out of him. Yeesh. Not your most eloquent moment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared,” you shot back in the most syrupy-sweet tone you could muster.

The kid grinned up at you with sharp teeth and blew a soupy bubble towards your face in response. You smiled down at him, adding, “But if you really want to repay me, then bring me back a good story about this little guy the next time you crash land through a— what did you call it? Asteroid field.” You highly doubted the duo would ever willingly return, but if making a deal gave this man peace of mind to know his imaginary debt was settled in some future way then so be it.

The lights in the cantina began to flicker and you got up with a frown, walking over to the electrical box behind the bar. The dull grey display, crammed with incomprehensibly labelled switches and flashing lights that would give anyone a headache, alerted you that the main generator had been depleted of power. You scrambled over to a window, prying open the shutters a crack only to be met with a dark swirl of snow that completely obscured your view of the street. Stars, the storm had worsened quickly— there was absolutely no chance you were making it home tonight. You slammed the shutter closed and turned around with a grimace that didn’t go unnoticed by the Mandalorian.

“What is it?” He questioned, modulated voice growing wary at the expression on your face.

“We’re running out of power, the main generator’s down from the storm so these lights are going to have to shut off soon. I think there’s enough in the emergency generator to heat the cantina through the night, though.” You hesitated, not sure how to break the bad news. “Unfortunately, the weather is— unmanageable. You’re not making it out of here to the mechanic’s until the blizzard lets up.”

He didn’t respond for a few seconds, so you continued talking. “I was.. planning on sleeping here tonight.” You muttered, trying to think of a plan. You glanced at the sleepy child resting on the Mandalorian’s beskar chest plate. “I usually keep a couple blankets here for that reason— pretty sure there’s enough to cover the baby, but you might need to be okay with sharing.”

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, searching your memory for where the emergency supplies were kept. Kriff. How were you supposed to know that you’d be snowed in, and with guests no less? Your grumpy boss really should have put instructions for this type of situation in the closing shift directions instead of the usual “sweep the floors” or your personal favorite: “if the customer creates a corpse, they gotta clean it up themselves”.

The Mandalorian interrupted your musings with a firm, “No need,” gesturing to the charcoal cloak fastened around his pauldrons. You eyed it dubiously, but supposed that the material looked thick enough. That was probably to your benefit, anyway, since you were something of a notorious blanket hog and didn’t think he’d take kindly to having his sheets ripped off him in the dead of night. That seemed like a quick way to wake up with more bruises than you went to sleep with.

“Well— alright then,” you sighed at last, tossing the smaller of your blankets to the man and tucking the other into the side of a nearby booth. “I’ll shut off the lights in a moment. Refresher’s that way, if you need it,” you pointed to the end of a dimly lit hall. The Mandalorian nodded once, then returned his attention to carefully cocooning the child in his lap. You set to work fluffing up your own makeshift bed, folding the cleanest dishtowel you could find into a pillow before trudging over to the light switch and enveloping the room in darkness.

Quietly feeling your way back to your booth, your eyes adjusted to the pitch-black little by little. You pulled your hair out of its messy updo and curled up on the seat, body slowly relaxing. It was strange, hearing the muffled rhythm of breaths coming from lungs that weren’t your own, but oddly soothing in its own way.

“G’night,” you mumbled, half-asleep already, consciousness swirled down the psychological drain by the overpowering storm raging outside. The lull-and-hitch of the baby’s soft snores echoing off of solid beskar set you drifting off to sleep faster than you had as a child, so lost to the world that you were sure you dreamed the quiet, belated whisper that sounded back to you.

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read on: part ii, part iii, more coming soon!

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