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hamsternella · 1 month

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hi!!! I have a request if you want too ofc!!! I’ve always thought of a reader who used to be in a relationship with ford before him being sucked up in the portal..and finding out that he was back?? It would be heavy angst with supreme fluff I think, I love how you write Ford in your other posts 👀

I'm sorry for my delay; I had a couple of problems BUT HERE IT IS. I hope you like it.

He's back

cw: stanford pines x reader, angst, fluff

It was déjà vu. Flashing lights, burned out outlets and the bustle of the masses. Communal fear; the terror of shadows devouring the streets as the gloom spread down every avenue—it had been a danger to set foot outside, but you risked it. One hand clinging to the edge of your robe, and the other holding a flashlight that barely worked without flickering; but with its mark referring to its recent departure from the factory, it was now the only thing that could keep your head attached to the last ounce of sanity.

You had not traveled back in time. You were still in the same Gravity Falls. Cars were ascending into the sky, darkness was taking over the town, and the stars were shining brighter than ever. Your own body had begun to rise; the lantern ended up somewhere unknown as you had to clutch both hands to the nearest lamppost, avoiding biting your tongue as you returned to the ground with the sting of cement against the skin of your legs.

You missed the exact moment when you had begun to cry—it was of no great importance. You tried to stand up, you tried to take deep breaths, and you tried to search for God between prayers; but nothing seemed to quell the urge to gouge your eyes out with your fingers. You were in denial about discovering what lay beyond the darkness when the light bathed Gravity Falls. You felt sick.

Your heart felt like it was about to burst in your chest; the nerves swirled in your stomach like an uncomfortable tingle. The world was spinning, and you didn't know if it was your head or if the event would repeat itself. Three times. Three times it would be. Now it was only two.

Two times.

How many more years?

Could it be?

?̸҇̿͑͆̇͗̐̏̎͗̚̚ɯ̵҇͂͑͐̽͐̊̀̈́ı̷̷̣̒͂̍́̌͊̌̓̈͐́͋̃͌̇̆͋͊̋̈́̎̚͡͠ɥ҈̄́̀̌̄͆̌̏́͐̍̅̆͞ ǝ̴̉͂͆̾͌͗͂̇̄͋͠q̵̍͋̈̀̉́̆̍̽̿̓̄̆͊̚̚͞ ʇ̵̐̅̓͐͗͂̐͒̌̐̽̆̕ı̷̴̣̉͊̃͆̉̐̇̽͛̎͐̓̃̽̏̓̋̋͗̔̾̀͌̕͞ p҈̌̿̃̅̐͐͂̚͞ן̵̛͊̓̋͊̓̀͒̈́̈n҈҇̾̔̄̈̋͗̽̚ơ̵͐̄̂̽̊̑́͂̚̚Ɔ̸̿̒͐̆̉̈́̈̄̍̋̕

Getting to the Mystery Shack was less complicated than you had imagined. The wooden signs —now scattered in the mud; hanging from the trees, among their branches— were helpful in reaching the shack. You barely reacted when a government special forces car (what were they supposed to be doing in Gravity Falls?) honked its horn, forcing you to jump to the side of the road. After it followed a whole line of armored vehicles. You didn't know what to think—there was nothing to do about it.

There was nothing you could do. Why were you there?

It had been difficult for you to return home to put on your shoes. Now they were ruined: muddy and the laces were wet with dirty water. You knew your socks were soaked through, and possibly your robe was the only thing halfway presentable. And for what? Who were you thinking of surprising? Stanley Pines, perhaps? The man you hadn't seen for a little over thirty years; or maybe his workers, who were the only people able to orbit around him. You had never gone to see him after ʇ̵̛̅̀̓ǘ̴̋́͛̃͝ǝ҉҇̏̂̉p҉̔̋͞ı҉̛̓̋̑̚ɔ̸̛̍̏̚ɔ̵̽̃͑́͠ɐ҉̓̍̚͠ ǝ҈͑̽̆͝ɥ̸̇̿͗͗͝ʇ҉҇̐̎̅ that day.

You lost the order of your thoughts —too confused on their own— as soon as the dome of trees was behind you. The sun rising behind the cabin blinded you for an instant, and too tired, perhaps even surrendered to the possibility of turning around and going back the way you came, you still tried to shield your eyes from the light. It was an instant. You let out a sigh caught in your chest, gathered your breath, and through silent tears you thought you heard a distant whisper.

Then it was a murmur.

Then it was a scream.

Then there were several. And they were all your name.

The tears, once small pearls hanging from your eyes, were now a torrent of bitterness and confusion twisting your gesture. They seemed to be born from a fresh wound in your heart; and it deepened as your arm fell limp to the side of your body, leaving you at the mercy of a blurred figure beyond what your imagination could trace. It was like a black blob, too big to be ɹ̴̊̑̃̅͝ǝ҉̈̊͛͡ɥ̵̛̐̿̊d̴͋́̕ı҈̿̍́͝Ɔ̶͑̆͒̌͞—but too small to be a black hole. Still, the way it approached and dominated your field of vision, eating away at the stability of your heart and the rhythm of your breathing, made it feel like one. Maybe this was the end of you. Maybe he was back.

You tried to swallow the rest of your tears, preparing both —weak— fists in front of you. Ready to fight. You mustered up the courage you needed, closing your eyes with the thought that if you avoided looking at him, possibly your death would be quicker. Maybe there would be mercy. Maybe the cut in your stomach wouldn't hurt, and when your organs fell out of your body you wouldn't have to see red bathing your feet. Nor were you going to see the world fade away; and you hoped much less was yellow covering your vision. Metallic taste, smell of meat and viscosity of guts and viscera. All the senses in an expression of his love for human carnage.

And the pain was going to be the least of it.

The impact came with the sound of hurried footsteps, and the scratchy texture of fabric that made you frown. The warmth of an embrace enveloped your body, and the fussy sensation of a breath on your neck made you bristle from head to toe. You opened your eyes a little at a time; gray and white invading your vision. Gray hair. There was a lot of gray hair. There was also the smell of gunpowder, dirt, dust and dampness—perhaps another musk you didn't recognize. And yet you cried again.

You clung to the body of a dead man; to the memory of a missing person. You wrapped your arms around the body of the man you had forgotten the color of his eyes or the sound of his voice. But there he was: crying like you, maybe worse, and with the clumsiness of a baby coming into the world—coming home. You dug your nails into his back, your gaze lost in the sun hanging in the firmament and the morning breeze freezing the wounds on your legs. Old, tired legs.

How the years go by.

You felt joy with those hands caressing your hair. You wanted to close your eyes again, but you feared losing the moment in another nostalgic and painful dream. You feared losing him. Losing—

"Ford," voice broken, tired. The voice of someone in fear, "I thought you were... I thought for a moment, Ford, that maybe... maybe you were..."

You thought you heard him mutter a 'no' so faint that it ended as a windblown sigh. Instead, Ford shook his head, beginning to push his body away from yours. You held on tightly, wrapping your arms around his neck. It was your turn to shake your head.

"Your eyes—I don't want to see them," you said. "I don't want to see your eyes, Ford."

"But I need to see yours," he replied softly. "I missed them... I missed you."

He was crying again.

"I missed you so much," he continued. "You don't know how much I have... This has been torture—without you, without your voice."

His voice was barely a plea that made your heart bristle.

"So let me see them; I need to know this is real."

"I don't want to find out you're not my Ford," you said. "What if you are him? What if you're playing with me?"

"He's not here," he shook his head. His hands began to stroke your back. "He can't hurt you, dear. Not here. Not with me here..."

"You left me," you interrupted him. "You left me, Ford. You went through the portal and left me. I've forgotten the color of your eyes—I can only remember the yellow; the long pupil, the smile... I don't know what I'm going to do if it's not you."

"But it's me. It's only me."

You let his hands pull your body away from his, and with the fear of one who searches in the gloom for a monster, you guided your eyes to his. You found a look full of tenderness and longing; a wrinkled face, tired and wet with tears. You couldn't control the impulse to bring one of your hands to his cheek, tracing the path of a fresh tear until it was lost beneath your palm; his face resting squarely against it, making him close his eyes with pleasure at the caress.

"It's only you," you whispered. You saw him nod, and then you released the sigh you had been holding in your chest. "It's finally you... I've been waiting for you all these years, Ford. Although I'd be lying if I said I wasn't waiting for something like... you know."

"I understand," he replied softly. "He's lied to me and terrorized me too; in places you couldn't possibly imagine, telling me horrendous things... Telling me that he had—he had killed you, God."

You smiled ruefully, holding his gaze when he opened his eyes.

"But then I saw you standing here," he continued, "and I thought maybe I might be delirious. I kept dreaming of you; of tracing you in drawings, in my head, everywhere... I didn't want to forget you. I didn't want you to turn to dust."

"I had forgotten your gaze," you replied. "I had forgotten your eyes—their color, their shape. All I could think of was the yellow glowing in the dark, and the pupils..." You swallowed your words, too overcome by the feeling of bitterness in your chest to continue. It took you a moment to catch your breath. "To see them again, after all these years, Ford... They are so beautiful. You are so, so... I don't know. I've just missed you so much. I think you get an idea of how much I do," you laughed through your tears, next to him.

Silence enveloped you both, barely interrupted by the murmur of wind and birds. The breeze swirled the earth and leaves, wrapping your feet with a shiver to your neck, where Ford's hands were now resting. You brought yours over his, drawing them to your lips for a kiss. You traced scars with caresses; you covered the roughness with the softness of your affection, and listened intently to his breathing quicken. You thought you could hear his heart beat out of control under your charm.

In an instant his hands cradled your cheeks; his fingers rested softly on your skin, brushing your earlobes, tickling you. You closed your eyes, drowning in the darkness, guided by the light pressure of a warmth foreign to your body. You rested your arms on his shoulders, barely catching his breath on your face as you sensed the awkwardness of shy lips seeking yours between kisses along your skin. On your forehead as a blessing, on your eyelids to drink away your anguish, on your nose to lighten your own nerves, and then on your lips; perhaps to savor the thousands of words you didn't know—those that might come to Ford's aid in understanding how much you needed him these thirty years, and how much you were going to keep longing for him now that you had felt his warmth again.

You let his body collide with yours, and barely interfered with the wildness of his own need for you. You didn't stop his arms when they wrapped around you awkwardly; nor did you utter a complaint when the kiss deepened with a pair of choked whimpers that died in your mouth. You let yourself be drowned by a show of affection too abrupt, too old—needed and almost forgotten. You savored Ford with the rage of an affair stuck in the past, and with the pent-up love of years of not having seen him. Of having believed him dead.

As the air thinned you parted. You still held him in your embrace, searching with your misty eyes for his. But there he was: flushed, visibly embarrassed, but there he was. Ford was still there. Still alive—back at home, with you.

"Don't look at me so intensely after such a disastrous kiss," he suddenly muttered.

"Do you feel embarrassed?" you asked under a chuckle. "And what do you call a disastrous kiss?"

"A kiss I practiced in my sleep and could never put into practice... until now."

This time you had to let out the laugh you'd been hiding. Ford covered his face, red as a tomato. He tried to explain himself but found it impossible; all his words choked, too garbled.

"It's like you're that boy who had barely made it to Gravity Falls," you tried to articulate. "Too many dreams. You've always been one to dream a lot."

"I could meet you in those dreams," he whispered. "You've always lived in my mind, along with them."

It was your turn to blush. Ford chuckled.

"What an old rascal you are when you want to be," you added.

"But it's true!"

You went along with his laughter, losing yourself in the way he looked at you. The sweet way he still loved you.

"Don't ever leave again," you said after a long while. "Don't ever leave me here again, Ford."

"I'd have to be dead to let you go, my dear."

"Or have your memory wiped," you added.

"Oh, that would be impossible. I have a special plate attached to prevent that kind of accident," he explained. "You know—other dimensions and that sort of thing."

"Sure, love," you laughed.

Ford brought one of his hands to his head, rapping gently with his knuckles to rattle the metal. You gasped.

"That's... Let's see," you throat cleared, "I deserve an explanation. Too many kisses but not enough answers, Ford."

"I know, I know," he smiled. "I promise to explain everything. But first a bath... and another hug."

"Another hug," you nodded, laughing softly. "You better never let go of me again."

"Never again."

#fanfic #reader insert #reader #angst #fluff #gravity falls #stanford pines #standford pines #stanford pines x reader #gravity falls stanford #gf stanford #stanford

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minus-plus-zer0 · 1 month

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Working at Bakugou's Agency Headcanons - Part 2

| Part 1 | ♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Ever since you broke the ice with Bakugou, he's been finding more time to talk to you at work. You're less likely to call him by his hero name now out of habit.

You feel a little bad though for the co-workers he still yells at though, so you ask him if he could be just a "smidge" nicer to them.

His first instinct is probably to say "NO FREAKING WAY!" but he's been thinking about all the things you said to him before this point and he's at least considering your suggestion, albeit begrudgingly.

That's a victory of a sort.

You're learning a lot about the inner life of a Pro Hero, given how much time you spend working around the agency.

You joked to Bakugou before about surpassing him as a Pro Hero but really, if you put your mind to it, maybe you could do it. Your experience as a secretary could only help and not hurt you. It's a lot of work though.

The idea is still put on hold for now. Especially considering what happened recently. There was a new villain on the streets and they caused a ton of trouble for the Pro Heroes. Bakugou in particular was pretty banged up...

You were worried sick over him during and after the fight. You visited him in the hospital and although you heard he was in a bad mood, he seemed more alert when you entered the room.

He couldn't stand to see you cry. He told you it wasn't your problem and that you should only focus on your work. But you insisted that as a friend you should care.

He doesn't disagree with that, so he lets you stay. He says it'll be easier to keep watch on you this way and he needs to know how the agency's doing anyways.

The agency is not nearly as worried as you are, at least not on a personal level. They're not callous, but they're not close to the man. So you're the only one who visits.

Regardless of the good or bad news, Bakugou enjoys listening to you speak. It's better than being alone in the dull hospital room. You end up talking quite a while and time passes by before you know it. Bakugou's smiling more and more as time goes by.

When Bakugou eventually returns to work, you're talking to him in private about the status of his wounds. He lets you help him with first aid and also with moving around the place. You're literally a shoulder for him to lean on when his issues are at their worst.

Eventually he heals up and you don't have as much of an excuse to talk to him at work, so you go back to your usual amount of interactions. It still nice but never enough...

Bakugou ends up reaching out to you more as a result and this time around, Bakugou is the one to invite you out for dinner! But instead of the fancy restaurant you attended last time, you suggest a more low-key, humble cafe nearby.

He agrees, even though this means he's gotta disguise himself somewhat. There's some private tables in the cafe and it's not too busy with people, but the fancy restaurant was more guarded against the usual common fans and reporters than a simple cafe would ever be.

You poke fun at his disguise and find a good table for you both. As you're making your orders you notice him staring at you from your table and it's very clear he didn't think he was going to get caught looking. You stick your tongue out at him and that leaves him seething at your teasing.

You return with the food and you give it to Bakugou before he can complain about anything. Your careful recommendation on what he should order was right on the money. He likes the food and you can tell by his expression.

You say that to his face, and he screws up his expression so now you can't tell what he's thinking or feeling. He looks deranged.

You want to take a picture to show all your co-workers, but he's got a hand on your phone before you can do anything. Damn him and his fast reflexes!

Since his face isn't screwed up anymore you still want to take a picture, but this time for yourself. You don't tell him that last part, you just ask if you can take a photo of him and his food, for posterity of course. He agrees and he initially keeps his typical grumpy face for the photo. But then a thought occurs to him and he gives you a small smile and you know you just HAVE to take the photo ASAP.

If you didn't have to go back to work, you would've forgotten that he was your boss. He's too close to you now, so many smiles and secrets you didn't think you'd get out of a man like this. But you need something more. You don't want things to stop progressing here, not when it's getting good. However, there's no good way to broach the subject.

Hours later after having a good time together at the cafe, Bakugou is walking you home, all the way to your doorstep.

When you finally reach the place, he tells you he has something to talk about.

He looks like he's a bundle of nerves. He ends up blurting what's on his mind just to get it off his damn chest, and it's just easy for him to talk to you about these kinds of things.

He admits that he doesn't always see you as his secretary, but as his close friend. He knew he had feelings for you at the start, but he thought he could manage that in private so as to not make you uncomfortable.

But he does love you, and he's thinking he's been reading the signs right and that you feel the same.

You just kiss him to confirm his thoughts and he kisses back even deeper than you ever could. He's inexperienced and rough, it's obvious to a T, but it's everything you would want. He's pulling you into his chest and making sure he's tasting every last bit!

Finally you break for air and his smirk is shaky, his body is shaky, and his voice is also shaky when he tells you "You're mine."

"No YOU'RE mine."

He quite likes that!

Though he admits he can't let you work for him anymore if you're together. He'd be letting you go as his secretary, because he would really rather have you as a girlfriend!

Sucks that you're out of a job though. But you heard that Deku is hiring...

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glassbirdfeather · 8 months

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Mohg's Brain

(This is an essay on Mohg, Lord of Blood, from hit video game Elden Ring. It just takes a bit to get there.)

There is a story often repeated in Psychology classes, Physiology classes, pop psych media like YouTube, podcasts, and garbage daytime television on channels that used to be scientifically rigorous: about a man with an incredible brain injury. For those of you who haven't heard the story or are not yet sick of hearing it, I've included it from memory below, because I have heard it just that many times.

If you've heard this story already, you can skip to the subtitle: "Can We Even Learn Anything From Gage?"

If you already know the controversies about Phineas Gage or just want to jump to the part about the video game character, you can skip to the subtitle: "Let's FINALLY talk about Video Game"

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"The Curious Case of Phineas Gage"

Phineas Gage was a railroad worker who would help clear land with explosives. The dubious and definitely wouldn't-have-been-OSHA-approved method of laying these explosives was to chip a hole into the mountainside, place the explosives, and then tamp it down using some sort of implement like a railroad spike. What happened next was predictable and it's surprising this didn't happen much more often--when packing the explosives, they detonated in Gage's face. Specifically, this launched the spike underneath his left eye and out of the top of his head. Less predictably, Phineas stood up afterwards. When a doctor arrived, said doctor did not believe what had occurred until Gage vomited approximately a "teacupful of brain matter" onto the street.

Due to lack of effective sterilization and antibiotics at the time, poor Phineas Gage was bedridden for several months, where he continued to lose further brain matter to infection. Eventually, he did recover, although he would continue to experience migraines and seizures for the rest of his life. While he lost his job for the railroad service, he went on to work in a sideshow attraction, carrying around the very railroad spike that went through his head. Eventually, he got a job and worked as a taxi driver and lived for several more years before dying of a seizure.

Phineas Gage was never the same after this life-altering injury: he was belligerent, drunk, lied frequently, and lost his job for the railroad company because of his new personality. And I do say NEW personality--Phineas had become like a completely different person and was, in essence, "no longer Gage" (they love quoting that). The damage to regions of the prefrontal cortex made him unable to make moral judgements, and impaired his impulse control.

OR MAYBE THAT LAST PART ISN'T TRUE.

Phineas Gage was NOT much changed by this life-altering injury. Though he lost his job at the railway company, the cause of this job loss is unknown. He MAY have had severe alterations to his personality due to this injury, but whether these changes were due to physical damage or emotional trauma--or whether personality changes ACTUALLY occurred at all--are disputed.

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Can We Even Learn Anything From Gage?

Though I am uncertain if we have exact data on which parts of his brain he was left with when accounting for what was later lost to infection, the trajectory and angle of the injury suggests he initially lost much of his prefrontal cortex. Which of the previous versions of the story are told or over/under-emphasized is dependent on the point the teller is trying to make in the age-old debate of nature vs. nurture.

Some psychologists argue that Gage's personality change demonstrates the Global Workspace Model, where different parts of the brain are responsible for different parts of consciousness, and that by changing or removing parts of the brain, you change consciousness.

Other psychologists will argue that the LACK of change is evidence of the brain's incredible plasticity--its ability to adapt and compensate for missing parts by shifting the functions of those parts to be performed by different regions.

Most reasonably, he probably experienced some cognitive differences while still being effectively the same person and is an example of both points of view. But we don't have concrete enough evidence to say.

Any class in which a teacher or textbook needs evidence to support whatever point they're trying to make about how changes to the brain affects personality, addiction, emotional regulation, decision making, etc., they'll use Gage to make that point, no matter what stance they take. So really, Gage isn't a useful case study beyond what we could actually observe: he lost some of his brain and lived, while also experiencing migraines and seizures for the rest of his life.

With all of that said, if we assume that Gage experienced no changes to cognitive function or personality, I just typed out a story I am very sick of hearing for no reason. So let's assume that at least some of those observations were true.

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Let's FINALLY Talk About Video Game

Her are some potentially useful images to reference if you want. Left: general brain regions and their functions. Right: paranasal sinus cavities.

Unlike a nice, straight tamping iron, Mohg's horns curl in unpredictable directions. Some assumptions must be made about length, depth, and diameter to determine what region and volume of his skull is occupied by his horn. The minimum I expect is that the horn occupies the region of his frontal lobe in any scenario. Let's also set a maximum limit: I believe it is reasonable to assume it has not reached the primary motor cortex, where it would disrupt body control and physical movement... unless one wants to suggest he is puppetting himself in his boss fight like a bloodbender. Which, let's be real, IS a really badass concept, someone should write that fanfiction.

Though I argue that Gage is a bad example to use given our lack of reliable data on his personality and lived experiences, we DO know that disrupting the function of the prefrontal cortex can affect judgment, planning, concentration, and any type of higher processing you might call a uniquely 'human' mental ability (I acknowledge the mental abilities of birds and primates but they are beyond the scope of this essay). It may be safe to assume that, in Mohg's case, these mental processes are harmed regardless of any further extrapolation I make. One other brain region of note is the motor speech (Broca) area, located on the left side directly behind the prefrontal cortex and controls muscle movements for speech.

On the topic of pain, migraines, and seizures: He has a horn in his head, it probably hurts. Obstructions (like cysts) can cause buildup of cerebrospinal fluid, which can cause pain and is a common cause of seizures. It is difficult to say how many people have benign brain tumors, but there is speculation that benign tumors in the brain are unexpectedly common. People only typically get brain scans when they've already noticed a problem, but there have been cases of perfectly healthy people having (non-cancerous) brain tumors, so a mass being present in the brain does NOT guarantee seizures will occur. This being said, that horn is significantly larger than a typical benign brain tumor. Migraines and seizures are very reasonable to assume.

I don't know what to say about illness and disease. In theory, if the horn grew at any point after birth, I would say he should have died from any pathogens that were introduced during its corkscrewing into his skull. Phineas Gage was bedridden for months due to infection, was under the care of a doctor, and he wasn't living in a sewer. Do the Lands Between understand the germ theory of disease? It may at least know that poop in the brain is bad, but I listen to Sawbones, so I know that isn't something we can just assume. It's possible he's lost some impossible-to-estimate amount of brain matter to infection. Feel free to speculate about Omen resistance to pathogens, but I don't feel that is the point of this essay. I'll say it's safe to assume his body has healed closed around it, but anything else I won't try to extrapolate.

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Specificity from Horn Trajectory

Possibility 1:

If we estimate the continued trajectory from the visible part of the horn, it actually continues medially, towards the center of the body, and curls downward. This might even miss most of the brain and instead disrupt the frontal, ethmoidal, and maxillary sinus cavities of the skull.

It may possibly even pierce the roof of the mouth, if we roughly estimate the rate at which the horn tapers and where it likely ends. I argue that this is the most optimistic scenario in terms of his health, because although the horn almost certainly penetrates the prefrontal cortex, it may not be as deep as other possibilities.

In this horn trajectory case, he probably experiences constant sinus pressure similar to a permanent head cold, obstruction to his sense of smell, and by extension his sense of taste. Even if the horn does not completely block his nasal cavity, it may have damaged his olfactory nerve and thus disabled his sense of smell anyway. Should the horn obstruct his mouth he may experience physical difficulties eating and speaking.

Possibility 2:

A worse scenario may be to assume this horn instead extends directly backwards. This would likely pass through the motor speech area, and may have caused him to lose the ability to talk, forcing him to relearn how to speak by having another part of the brain learn to do this function (similar to how anyone learns a second language after very early childhood). It may also reach the LEFT temporal lobe, which processes hearing and smell for the RIGHT side of the body, and therefore he could be deaf in his right ear. Again, the olfactory nerve is potentially in the path of the horn, and loss of sense of smell is frequently considered a symptom of brain damage, so regardless of the angle of the horn this is a high possibility.

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What Time of Horn Growth Could Tell Us

Children are more likely to recover well from brain damage. The older he was when the horn entered his brain, the more likely he would be to experience cognitive impairment.

Should Mohg's horn have developed that way before birth, his brain may have formed around it without issue, or obstructed regions may have simply remained underdeveloped. His skull would also have developed to more 'comfortably' accommodate this horn, rather than having to break and re-heal around a later intrusion. If the horn is shallow enough and its growth occurred during fetal development or very early childhood before the fusing of the bones in the skull, it is possible that left eye blindness and mild discomfort are the only effects. The timing of the horn's growth being before birth or in early infancy is supported by the Regal Omen Bairn, which shows Morgott with seemingly all of his horns, suggesting that omens horns are largely present upon birth and that those horns grow in proportion with them.

However, given the themes associated with the Formless Mother, here is another--vastly more speculative--hypothesis: Mohg's horn was grown deliberately into his skull by the influence of the Formless Mother, perhaps with or without his consent. I find it hard to believe that a force claimed to be the "mother of truth" which "desires a wound" would be unaware of the possible effects of this type of wound.

I posit that the Formless Mother intended to compromise Mohg's consciousness and sense of reason to make him easier to manipulate. If we assume that they were not working together (debatable), the abduction of Miquella and potential interruption and sabotage of his ascension puts an empyrean under the Formless Mother's control, and works counter to the dynasty Mohg desires. Damage to his ability to plan, make rational decisions, and his sense of morality could explain how Mohg seems to want a place for outcast and hated people, likely seeing a kinship with Miquella, but has created something that is the antithesis to the Haligtree.

Furthermore, should we assume that Mohg and Miquella met previously and Miquella had the opportunity to do so, the power Miquella purportedly has to compel adoration in others may have interacted poorly with Mohg's potentially impaired emotional processing, and could have caused an obsessive outcome that the Formless Mother did not predict.

Of course, I don't believe every awful and cruel decision someone makes is the result of brain damage, but this may explain the incongruity between what Mohg seems to want and what he has made. Whether Mohg is "the reigning lord and hierarch of the coming dynasty of Mohgwyn" or "a raving lunatic" may not be an incompatible dichotomy. It may be sequential.

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Glassbirdfeather you're so wrong, why did you say ___?

I am not a doctor. I am a chemistry student with a biology lean (clinical laboratory science) and am drawing my conclusions from what I've learned in Anatomy, Physiology, and Psychology classes at an introductory level, and I glanced back at my anatomy and psychology textbooks as my sole academic sources. Please don't take this as a well-researched essay, none of the claims I make about mental or physical health are properly cited. This is just fandom theorizing; it's as academically rigorous as fanfiction. Any doctor/member of the medical profession who would like to correct me is invited to do so, I would love to hear more accurate and informed observations.

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Bibliography

(literally just 2 references, man)

Grison, Sarah and Michael S. Gazzaniga. Psychology in Your Life. Third Edition, W. W. Norton & Company, 2019.

McKinley, Michael P. and Valerie Dean O'Loughlin. Human Anatomy. Fifth Edition, McGraw-Hill, 2017.

#mohg #elden ring #dont @ me about typos istg i spent so long on this

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enhaheeseung · 1 year

Text

Come back to me - L. HS

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warnings: mentions of smut, language, alcohol, verbal abuse, crying, heeseung is a very shitty husband.

WC: 2,274k

“My god, it’s my wife again,” heeseung sighed. He was just out trying to spend a “peaceful” night with his co workers, and here you are, blowing up his phone and spamming him about his whereabouts. “I have to go before she has a panic attack.”

“She has you so whipped,” his friend and coworker Jake says.

“We must all have the same wife,” Heeseung replies, making the rest of the guys laugh while he grabs his jacket and takes one last shot before leaving the bar.“See you guys tomorrow!” He waves to his table of friends before going home, and he dreads walking through the door and having to deal with your constant whining and complaining.

He takes a deep breath before entering his home, but nothing can prepare him for the nagging he faces as soon as he enters.

He didn’t even get to take his shoes off before you had already started motor mouthing him. “Oh my god,” he rubs his temples in frustration. He already had a headache from work, and now he has to listen to your high pitched whining.

“Where were you? Why didn’t you answer my calls? I was worried about you.” you walk over to him to greet him with a hug. You don’t mean to bombard him with questions, but you were worried sick. “Is that- is that alcohol? Have you been drinking?” You say after breaking the hug that he didn’t even bother returning.

“Yes baby, it’s alcohol,” he sighs and takes his coat and shoes off, loosening his tie while he looks at you, completely disinterested in what you have to say.

“Hee, were you drinking and dri-“

“Yes! Oh my fucking god!” he shouts, cutting you off. “I’m a grown fucking man. I can drink, I can drive, and I can definitely take care of myself. I don’t need you keeping fucking tabs on me 24/7. I’m not a child I’m your husband.” he brushes past you, heading straight for the fridge to get another beer cause the five he had at the bar weren’t quite enough to help him put up with you.

You stood there, completely shocked by what he said. You knew you could be a little over the top and overprotective of him, but you didn’t know that’s what he thought of you.

Making your way over to the kitchen, you parted your lips to apologize. “Please just don’t. I already have a headache, and I can’t do this with you right now.” You close your mouth and instead try to hug him as an apology, but he just pushes you away. “Can you get any more annoying?” He shakes his head, popping off the lid on his beer and drinking half the bottle.

To say you were hurt would be an understatement this had been going on for months, this strange behavior that your husband adopted seemingly out of nowhere. The first time you talked to him about it, he just told you he was stressed from work and had a few drinks. You thought that was the end of it, but more often than not, he’d come home late, reeking of alcohol and treating you like you had zero feelings. You weren’t trying to scold him or baby him. You were just worried about him, but obviously, he didn’t see it like that.

Things had been a little rocky in the marriage. Lately, he spent more time at work and less time at home. You two rarely talked anymore. More like he wouldn’t let you talk. Every time you tried to get him to open up, he just shut down, and now you were stressed out because now not only was your husband shutting you out, but he was treating you like absolute trash, and you couldn’t believe it the day you met him he wouldn’t have dared talked to you that way but the heeseung you married was apparently long gone and you can’t believe after five long years of a happy loving marriage it all just went to pot in the last eight months and you don’t even know where to begin to fix it cause now his rotten attitude was now rubbing off on you which is why you responded with. “I guess I wasn’t annoying in bed last night.”

He chuckles, taking another sip of his beer. “That’s right, cause your mouth was doing something useful instead of bitching”

You gasp from his foul language, and he has the nerve to laugh at your shocked face. “What is your problem? Why are you acting like such an asshole?” You say with tears welling in your eyes and a defeated tone.

“You’re my problem, and maybe I wouldn’t be “such an asshole,” he says with finger quotes. “if you weren’t such a needy bitch” he scoffs. “Like my god, give me a fucking break heeseung this heeseung that when do you ever just shut the fuck up?”

You looked at him for a solid minute, complete utter silence taking over the kitchen, and you know what, if that’s what he thought of you, then so be it. “F-fine, I won’t be your problem anymore.” you turn away from him, not before a few tears trickled down your cheek.

Once he noticed you crying, he kinda felt bad even though you were being so over dramatic. “Baby….” Heeseung sighed, walking after you and gripping your forearm.

“I’m not your baby, and don’t you dare fucking touch me!” You yanked your arm out of his grip and went to the bedroom, leaving him stunned in the hallway cause you never treated him like that before.

“Shit,” he mutters and plops down on the couch finishing a few more beers to give you some time to calm down cause he knew you were just overreacting and being emotional like you always are.

He quietly enters the bedroom a while later, stripping down to his underwear and slipping in the covers, attempting to put his arm around your waist, but you simply scooted away from him. Instead of him getting the hint, he scooted closer to you, trying to back hug you, but this time, you got out of bed, grabbing a pillow and a spare sheet to sleep on the couch. “Where are you going?” He whispers groggily. From all the alcohol he drank, you could literally smell him as soon as he entered the bed.

“The couch,” you respond, tone as cold as ice.

“Fine, be a cunt, then see if I fucking care” he turns around in the bed, throwing the blankets over his shoulder and pretending that he was alright with you ignoring his touch and sleeping on the couch.

You just shook your head back and forth and left without another thought, going to sleep on the couch cold, sad, hurt, and alone.

In the morning, heeseung felt like shit. When he woke up, his head was pounding, and his muscles were sore from all the hours he’d been working. “Morning bab-“ he stopped when he remembered the fight you guys had last night, and that just made his head throb even harder than it already was.

After getting ready for work, he came out of the bedroom expecting breakfast, but you were still asleep on the couch. It looks like you slept a little bit more soundly without him than he did without you. He was literally tossing and turning all night.

He quickly kissed your forehead before leaving for work.

By the time you woke up, it was five in the afternoon, and that was the perfect time. Heeseung wouldn’t be home till eleven, and you’d be done packing far earlier than that.

You’d be lying if you said getting a divorce hasn’t been on your mind, but you gave it a couple of months to see if things would get any better between the two of you. But sadly, it didn’t, and divorce sounded like the only option. heeseung wasn’t communicating with you, and the past few months were eating you alive. If you stayed much longer, you probably would have lost yourself even more than you already have.

You gave up on dressing nice. What was the point when your man wouldn’t even take you out of the house you barely cleaned cause you just didn’t have the energy to, showering happened every other day, and you always felt useless cause your husband was struggling and you couldn’t help him the only thing that seemed to make him feel better was having you at night but even in bed he wasn’t the same he was more demanding always concerned about his pleasure and not yours which was a turn off for you.

But luckily, that was all going to end. After tonight, it would finally be over. You were freeing yourself from eight long months of abuse.

Once you finished packing, you stood on his side of the bedroom, a single tear leaving your eye as you slipped off your beautiful wedding ring and placed it on top of the divorce papers that you had already signed.

You left sooner than later because the longer you stayed, the more it was going to hurt, and you’ve been hurting for far too long already.

Heeseung was at the bar again, drowning himself in beer after beer and shot after shot, trying to forget the argument he had with you, but nothing was working.

He kept checking his phone every other minute, keeping an eye out to see if you sent him a text cause if you did, he was gonna respond right away and head straight home, so you wouldn’t have to worry about him being stupid for the countless night in a row yet a text never came, and he figured you must be really really upset with him this time.

“Is that your wife?” Jake asked, noticing him checking his phone every few minutes.

“No, actually,” he dryly chuckled, his thumb hovering over the power button on his phone. He turned it on and unlocked it, sifting through all his messages, and still not a single one from you. And now he was starting to get worried because this wasn’t like you. He should have at least ten missed calls and twenty different texts by now cause it was past midnight, and that’s always when you really started to spam him.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be at it soon enough.” his friend Jay pours him another drink, one that he doesn’t bother touching cause he’s still too focused on his phone, waiting to hear from you. “Ugh,” Jake sighed, a ding going off on his phone. “If it’s not one, it’s the other, am I right? Jake laughs, responding to his wife, telling her he’d be home soon and not to worry cause he’s with friends.

“Yeah,” heeseung mumbled and fake laughed if he was being honest. He was a little envious of Jake cause at least his wife was texting him.

Heeseung repeated his previous actions, checking for a new message, but he still had zero notifications. “You know, I think I’m gonna head home for the night.”

“What? It’s still early, though,” Jay complains.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but I’ll see you tomorrow.” he drops a fifty on the table, quickly grabs his jacket, and jogs to his car. Something somewhere deep inside him was telling him that there was something wrong, and if anything like a break in or something bad happened to you cause he was out at the bar, he swears he’d never forgive himself.

Speeding down the street, he tries calling you, but no answer, which makes him even more worried. “Fuck! Baby, please be okay.” he feels himself on the verge of tears as he runs multiple red lights to get home to you. Most people might think he’s overreacting, but you never missed a call from him ever, not in your whole five years of marriage.

His heart drops when he finally arrives and sees your car no longer in the driveway. “Baby,” he mutters and unfastens his belt. Jogging up the porch, he quickly inserted his house key, and when he comprehended what he saw when he entered, it shattered his heart. It was almost as bad as a break in your stuff nowhere to be found, your shoes gone, all your little ornaments and decorations completely wiped out. “What’s this?” He says after entering the bedroom and, his heart felt like it stopped when he saw your wedding ring on his nightstand, accompanied by divorce papers. “No,” he shakes his head in denial, slowly backing away from the nightstand until his back hits the wall. “No,” he whimpers, sliding down the length of the bedroom wall. “Baby, no,” he whispers to himself, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. He knew he could be an asshole sometimes, but he never thought you would ever divorce him. “I’m so sorry,” he cries, running his thumb over the diamond on your ring. And right now, he’d rewind time just to hear your back to back questions when he came through the door. He’d never touch alcohol ever again if it meant he got to feel your welcoming hugs, and if he had just one more chance, he’d treat you the way you deserve.

He sniffs, wiping his tears and reaching for his phone, dialing your number only for it to go straight to voicemail.

He drops the phone at his side, staring off into space as tears roll down his cheeks. “Baby, I’m sorry. Please come back to me.”

Permanent taglist:®• @hello-stranger24 @ashxsmoon @lhsggg @scarlet127 @bunhoons @axartia @kpopscruggles @badidealy @heeseungleeworld @jayroseyy @bangchanhasbigfeet @duolingofanaccount @oceanyocean @hee-in @heesgirl @bambisgirl @heeaddict @heartandfangs @nyxtwixx @iamliacamila

Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night♥️

#enhypen heeseung #enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #enha heeseung #engene #heeseung smut #enhypen lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #heeseung enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen fanfiction #lee heeseung x y/n #heeseung fic

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whileyoureinschoolidothisallday · 7 months

Text

OKAY it has been a day of being sad and panicky. Time to move.

Yesterday, I made a post detailing the cdc announcement that there will no longer be an isolation requirement for covid. If you are one of the thousands of people rightfully raging in my notes, here's some steps to focus on.

We're not gonna give up. I've seen quite a few comments with things like 'what's the point', 'why should I even try anymore' etc etc and what we're not gonna do is give them what they want! It helps the eugenics cause to be apathetic and listless. We've made it this far, we will continue to make it. I know it's hard, but I am at least right here with you. Give yourself whatever time you need to grieve, and then I need you to get up.

If you have stopped masking for any reason, or you haven't upgraded to a respirator style mask, now is the time to change or start. From now on, we will be living in a country where you could assume there are multiple covid positive people in the room with you at all times. Surgical masks will not handle that load, and cloth masks will be even less effective at that point. Obviously, this is an unprecedented situation we're putting these masks in, and I'm not gonna sit here and pretend to be an expert that can tell you with certainty that even respirators will hold up with this amount of viral load for a long period of time, but it's the best and strongest tool we have. I'm considering using my p100 more, so that's always something to consider as well (and they make you look like a cool raver when you wear them!!!). You can buy all sorts of masks here, there's more links in the comments of my original post, and most states have their own mask blocs. To find them, go to Instagram and type "[your state] mask bloc". Here is a google doc of verified advocacy groups and mask blocs all across the country here is a diy fit test kit you can buy for $30 (unfortunately they are sold out right now. shocker.) PLEASE remember to take a layered response in these times. Masks are not the only tool in our arsenal. PLEASE for the love of God keep up with your vaccinations. Make a corsi-rosenthal box or buy a high quality air purifier if you can afford it--at the very least our homes can be safe havens (you can even put a hepa filter on your furnace!!!! And in your car too!!!!!). Use CPC Mouthwash, nasal irrigation, and nasal sprays like this one. Make it a routine: you come home, you shower, you brush your teeth, you rinse your nose, you change your clothes. And, like I said in another one of my posts, DO NOT TAKE OFF THE MASK.

3. If you would like an outlet for your rage and you're into calling your reps, feel free to calmly but firmly let the cdc have it at these numbers!!!!!

[alt text: a tweet by user silly_paulie that reads:

"Disdain for the CDC unites us all. Call today and demand isolation policies be returned to 10 days, and reducing it further to 1 day would be criminally dangerous. Call both:

404-639-7000 (press 8)

800-232-4636"

end text.]

4. If you need more outlets for your rage, I STRONGLY encourage you to get involved with your local union. Moreso than calling the CDC, tbh. I've seen multiple comments telling people just to lie about your symptoms to get more sick time off, but since there's no legal precedent to allow employees sick time for covid, all that's gonna do is get people fired. I truly believe in my lefty heart that the ONLY way we're getting anything close to mitigation is through labor rights. Even the standard for the fucking flu is 3 days, and that's nowhere near as contagious or disabling as covid. I say this as a high risk person with a neuromuscular disability: covid is an intersectional issue, but where we have the most leverage to get what we need is through labor rights.

It is NOT safe for workers to be working while ill with a Level 3 Biohazard (same as TB and the FUCKING PLAGUE. Seriously we have more regulations around fucking lice)

It is NOT safe to willfully EXPOSE your employees to a Level 3 Biohazard

It is NECESSARY for all employees to be allowed up to 10 days to recover fully from Covid-19, in order to avoid possible further injury from or hospitalization

You will NOT die or be disabled for the sake of the wealthy!!!!!

(and while you're at it, ask for better air filtration too!!!! At least 5 air changes an hour, MERV-13 air filters!! Then we won't have to constantly worry about virus bs and policy changes in the first place!!!!)

5. Closing statements. Nothing has changed with covid, this is just policy. Covid still isn't magic, she still has to get in you before she can do damage--mask up, arm your home with clean air, and don't let her. It's always worse toward the end. This is not the time to give up, it's time to dig in your heels and get to work. There are so many good things happening with covid. They are finding encouraging treatments for long covid. Finally, after years of nothing, a new prophylactic for the high risk was submitted for emergency use to the FDA, and it looks like this time it's built to last against new mutations. Covid is here to stay for the rest of our lives, but the real science hasn't given up on taking the worst of its teeth out. We WILL get to the point where the extreme fear of catching covid is nothing but a bad memory for EVERYONE. All I need you to do is commit to the belief that you're gonna survive long enough to be in that moment with the rest of us.

Now stay safe, and give em hell!!!!!

#covid 19 #covid safe #covid advocacy #covid is not over #mask up #danger days: truffula flu simulator #truffula flu survival guide

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onyourhyuck · 1 year

Text

Bad Habits. | H.RJ

— Prologue: “You have no idea, how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”

— Summary: Your boyfriend Renjun offered to blow dry your wet hair, what could go wrong?

— Genre: Smut. Smut. Smut. Boyfriend!Renjun. Kind of cute. Renjun has an obsession to kiss y/n’s neck. Blowdrying hair. Protected sex. Renjun’s love for y/n’s chest. Teasing. Soft mild choking. Fingering receiving (f) Consensual. many many climaxes. Nickname used ‘Baby’ a lot.

— Notes: I might be in my renjun smut era rn.

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You let the hot water run down your back all the way from your short thick hair. You enjoy the warmth and the steam building in the bathroom. It’s always nice to come home and have a relaxing evening showering especially after such a stressful day at work. Your boyfriend, Renjun, prepared the shower for you actually. He let it ran so you can have the hot water running. He even got the towel and clothes ready and then he left to let you have your own privacy and time to shower properly. Renjun loves to do a lot of things for you even though you don’t ask him to do anything he just ends up doing it for you anyways.

You tend to appreciate these small gestures the most whenever you’re feeling drained and tired. You don’t really like to show or express that you’re having a hard time. So when your boyfriend can sense your feelings through your moods you find it easier to show you’re struggling.

Your job can be very time consuming which then puts a slight strain on your relationship with Renjun. He wants to do many things with you but your job tends to prevent that. You’re a very dedicated worker to your job.

You may love your job but sometimes it can be hard to keep up with it. Even if it is just paperwork. It’s still a lot to do even if people assume at first thay papers aren’t that much of a hard thing to do. It’s more or less time consuming.

Either way you’re home now and you don’t want to think about work anymore so you finish your shower and head out with the towel wrapped around you. You would change in the bedroom. You take your time applying body lotion and then your own skin care routine on your face. You need to moisturise your skin with the products you bought. Once the pyjamas embrace your beautiful curvy figure you sat down on the bed looking in the mirror. You feel refreshed from the shower. Renjun really was right it did help you feel better. As if the weight was lifted off your chest.

The bedroom door opens with Renjun peeking in a little and when he saw you and your damp hair he tilts his head a little. “You still haven’t blow dry your hair Y/n. You’ll get sick if you leave it like this.” You heard him say with a small nagging voice but you didn’t mind it.

You knew he cared for your well-being slightly more than you do for yourself. You gently roll your eyes. “I’ll get on it now then.” You stand up to get the box out with the hairdryer however a hand stops you from moving any further from the bed.

Renjun shakes his head. “I’ll do it for you.” He then said getting the box out putting it next to you on your bed and you look up with a little smile. He really doesn’t want you to work too much at home knowing you’re tired. “Can i blow dry your hair for you?”

Now he was asking you with something glistening behind his eyes and you’re not sure what that was. It almost resembles a fallen star in his eyes that you saw glisten away. Your expression of surprise makes Renjun feel like his words took you to another level of comfort and happiness when he asked if he could blow dry your hair for you. It’s like you didn’t expect him to go the extra mile for you. Renjun would do anything if it can mean you didn’t have to do anything. Heck. He would do everything and you can just be taken care of like the princess you are. Renjun wouldn’t want it any other way for you.

You take a while to figure out what to say but you reckon you can just give him a nod and he would take it as a yes. “Sure you can.” You say with a small shy smile. You never really had anyone drying your hair for you so this might be an experience you think. Renjun saw your permission and his face lit up.

It’s like he’s been waiting to do this for you before. Renjun plugs everything in. The blow dry device powers up and Renjun softly runs his hands through your wet short damp hair. He enjoys to run his hand through it because of how silky and thick it feels when it’s dry. But when it’s wet it’s a clump that he still find’s beautiful. Every inch of you feels responsible for the way his love grows for you even more. Renjun was only bewitched when the cold wet hair slides down the fingers as he starts to now turn on the hairdryer. The hot air blows your hair in different directions, his hands slid up to your roots and down the edges of your strands.

Your eyes close in the pleasant breeze that feels like a valley passing in your mind. The sensation of someone else stirring the arms rotating around the hot air to your damp hair as their fingers slip like growing spring around your scalp makes you feel some type of way; relaxation? Maybe. Perhaps it was the fact that you feel like you are being treated with care. The way your boyfriend’s wrist was so gently when it moved and pushed your hair aside to get every part of your hair to dry up and not be wet from your shower.

It felt too good. You never thought a simple thing like this could make you feel even more at home than you already were feeling like.

Renjun might be your home. Maybe he makes home feel like home to you now.

Your boyfriend smiles when he saw your smiling expression as your eyes were closed shut enjoying how his hands feel around your scalp trying to massage every area so they can dry up. He doesn’t want you to go to bed with damp hair at all. It’s not the most comfortable thing either. Nor is it healthy. Renjun’s smile mimics yours and he cannot help but watch and observe you. He takes every chance to admire you no matter what even when you’re not looking at him, that’s when Renjun takes his opportunity the most.

The eyes fell down like a marble stone falling on the ground between two drainages pipes when he saw the sight of your beautiful glowing neck. In his eyes he feels like this was his favourite part of you. Your neck. Renjun might have a slight admiration for it to the point it might be like he has a massive crush on it. Not because of how beautiful it looks. It’s because he knows how much it gets you going with a rollercoaster of emotions.

The most simplest of touches he could do to your neck would feel like he had you pinned against a brick wall. That’s how much you react whenever your neck comes into contact with something.

Renjun love it though. He can smell your hair and your body lotion you applied from your neckline. He was very close and it makes his heartbeat a little knowing you’re relaxing right now and he’s here trying to not get any urges and thoughts right there and then.

You look too irresistible to not be kissed though. Renjun eventually said screw it in his head and when your hair was a little more dry now, his lips found a way around the back of your nape and placing a small kiss on it. The small kiss was very soft and noticeable. It feels like lavender sprouting from the roots.

Then the kiss on the nape turns into more kisses on the sides of your neckline and then eventually spreading even more across your neck to the front which had your heart skipping a beat from the first pointer kiss he did.

Your voice came out a little better though slight hitch to the tone which your boyfriend took heard notice of. “Renjun…?”

It was a mixture of confusion and surprise. Renjun kissed now a little more deeply but still keeping the relaxed vibe you guys are in. The whole bedroom had a very chill atmosphere and he wasn’t doing anything too much to scare you off. He knows you’re tired. Renjun can feel it on your body muscles. They’re finally relaxed and no longer tense, he wouldn’t want to do anything else than to have you feel loved in the moment.

All Renjun was thinking about was how pretty you sound when he continued to kiss you. He travels up kissing your jawline as he’s still sitting behind you with the warm hairdryer on his lap attached to the nearby plug on the wall next to your bed that you both are on.

He whispers to your ear as he gently and lovingly placed a kiss on it too. “You have no idea, how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”

Your boyfriend drag alongside your neck his lips whispering series of sweet nothings. The sequences had you rolling your tongue at the top of your mouth roof when he pressed another sweet and peppering kiss on your smooth skin. “To kiss and to be close to you like this… I’ve missed you.”

Your body betrays you quickly knowing it was your boyfriend making you feel this way, so out of breath as if you ran for miles upon miles. It was one of those things that your body could never get used to. Renjun’s kisses, words, the way he spoke to you with the tone of his voice. It’s too much you found yourself loving it all too well.

You found yourself giving in too quickly than you’d like to imagine. It wasn’t long till Renjun’s lips kissed the corner of your lips which then made you fully engulf yourself in kissing him back now. You closed your eyes and breathed in as he lets out a sigh practically groaning now that you kissed him. It felt so foreign to him nowadays. It’s been too long than he’d like to admit since he kissed you like this. You pull yourself around and Renjun’s hands slither round your waist dragging you across the bed as you let him pull you down on your back, the kiss never once breaking away.

It’s been too long because you swore you neglected him to the point he didn’t give you a single break from the kiss. It was too long that it had your face feeling like you might melt like magma. Or until the point you’re seeing stars written on the ceiling. Renjun nibbles quietly on your bottom lip while finally he pulls to give you a fresh new look on his face as he saw your eyes closing to regain back your view. You were too close to nearly passing out from the lack of oxygen he stole from you.

But he pulls at the right minute to keep you asking for more. To keep you guessing for more. Renjun lowers himself down just above your chest as he kissed your cheek now beginning to ask you. “Baby do you think i have to stretch you out? It’s been too long since we did it.” He lets his eyes practically eat you alive when he’s watching your body like this. You let out a soft groan, his hands run down your spine and under your shirt ready to strip it away from your wonderful figure.

Renjun’s bad habit is definitely not being able to be patient enough for you. When he wants something he needs it immediately. You’re one of those things that Renjun cannot be patient for enough because he wants to experience it with you. And let you experience him as much as possible too. This might be the result of his feelings for you however, they’re far too intense you can barely stand in front of him.

You groan in reply. “Maybe stretch me out with your fingers.” Your hands slip off your lower pyjamas and Renjun took the host pleasure to position his finger around your straps to the panties and slid them down to your ankles. He smiles looking down at your pussy region as he strums his thumb on your clit before pushing in the index finger now. He saw you bite your bottom lip already and Renjun can feel how tight you are. He definitely needed to stretch you out. It felt too much already that you feel like consuming all of Renjun’s pleasure. Renjun didn’t stop until he at least give you one orgasm by his fingers. He never continues and puts you above himself too.

Even though he is very impatient he’s never impatient when it comes to putting you first above his own pleasure and needs.

You felt your eyes clench around the ceiling above as you’re feeling the pleasure reach to your own bones. It pulses you to leak and now your own high washed over you. Renjun was satisfied to hear you moaning his name and practically plead him to already take you. He whispers reaching with his face to kiss your own mouth again. “You did so well for me, baby.”

You’re so weak to him and his praise.

Your boyfriend slips himself inside your folds and your heat once he put on the condom wrapping around his shaft that pumps inside and outside of your velvety bars has him feeling like he was on cloud nine. Your expression was scrunching up as you reach enlightenment with your boyfriend thrusting inside and outside of you in such graceful ways. Renjun’s pelvis reaches your inner thighs as he grabs around your waist wrapping his arms on your back as he pulls you closer to the lavishing light he caused your body to feel. This feeling couldn’t be described in words just like how Renjun cannot describe such a perfect girl like you beneath him getting her hole fixed with his cock deep inside you looking so incredibly beautiful.

How can anyone compare to you? No one can.

Renjun vows you’re going to get him hooked more and more. Your folds squeezing and squelch which has his eyes roll and your boyfriend slips out a groan between your perky breasts as he licks round his tongue teasingly around the very top. “Do you feel good baby? Is this what you needed after a long day of work?” He spoke so kindly though his body wasn’t matching it. Your body was squished between his ruthless thrusts.

You neglected him for too long because you can feel this was almost like his way of releasing all the pent up frustrations.

You bury your head further into your pillow as your spine arches like a bridge. Renjun loves when you do this between his fast and jabbing thrusts. It feels like you were feeling everything tan times more intensely. Your lips fell apart like ice. “S-So good… oh please don’t stop.” You now plead.

You’re not sure why you’re pleading because your boyfriend wasn’t planning to stop anyways.

You must’ve been seeing stars when your many orgasms has been approaching. Perhaps you already came too many times you didn’t even realise it. It was so good that Renjun must’ve had your hole screaming at him to slow down but he couldn’t as he was taking everything in too fast with his brain.

Your hands clench in a balling fist and your toes curl when Renjun whispers to your ears. “You know this is your fault I’m acting like this.” Your eyes widen when he told you it’s your reasoning for all of this happening and you wanted to speak, but the many moans you swallowed came out.

He trails down the kisses from the forehead and down your temples. “You wanna know why? Because you’re my Bad Habit.”

Your neck was looking too good from the angle he was in pushing inside of you deeply where he knew you had limitless space. His hands sweep their way in holding and caressing your neck as he continues to thrust within your pussy that you find yourself getting addicted to how his cock was making you feel; utterly weak and high.

You are the very bad habit he has. Renjun cannot do anything without you anymore and it’s all because of you making it hard not to fall in love with you even more.

He blames you for this, he cannot get enough now. It was like a trap all along and Renjun was your fallen victim. You clench around his shaft as he said this. He reminds you how deep his love is for you and your eyes dilate when you feel his member twitch deeply within your folds.

Through the condom fabric you sense a filling packet now and you just knew he had a sudden climax when Renjun hung his head between your shoulders. He took a moment to final thrust within you and his voice was breaking like a broken tape on record player.

He grunts and you feel his hands tighten around the embrace has you inside as if you were his precious jewel.

“Fuck fuck fuck…” You heard your boyfriend say quietly as the voice was trembling by how good you consumed him all.

You feel Renjun letting out a deeply mournful sigh full of enchanting pleasure when he pulls out off you with the condom. You watch him wrap it up and he looks back at you finding your gaze to be watery and dilated pupils, it makes you look like a princess in his eyes though.

He could tell he did a good job pleasuring you and it makes him proud. And your beauty never leaves no matter what state you’re in.

You whisper. “I’m your bad habit?” You let out a little giggle though because you find yourself liking that you’re his bad habit in a way.

Renjun grins leaning down. “Mhm that you are.” You watch him hover above your figure now as you guys were resting now with your steady heartbeats returning to their normal pace. He looks down at your kissable lips and so he lowers down only a little to give it a peck. You hear him speak as he did this. “You’re all my Bad Habits.”

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! Reblog this Fic and Follow me for more it helps a girl out. <3

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wafflefries13 · 4 months

Text

Walk Me Home (Bakugou x Reader)

Summary: You get help with a stalker from an unexpected hotheaded source.

AN: I posted this a while ago, like a couple of years, but Tumblr ate it. So, repost!

Warnings: Stalking, kidnapping, canon typical violence. Sort of an au where hero work is more of a college track.

You were racing the drops of condensation dripping down the frosted cooler glass. Personally, you thought the one on the far left was going to win. The center had been in the lead, but it crashed into a glop of drops and was forced to a sudden halt. The middle left gained a sudden lead by dropping down through an empty space. It veered suddenly and crashed into the far left, both of them stopping dead.

Well, so much for that.

That was the fifth race you’d monitored this hour. You’d spent the previous hour walking around the aisles of the convenience store you were holed up in, rotating the chip bags, soda bottles, and cans so that all the labels faced outward. The hour before that you spent memorizing the employee cleaning manual kept under the sink in the customer bathroom. And the hour before that you had spent tirelessly counting every ceiling and floor tile (Ceiling = 237, Floor = 422.) You were kind of surprised the worker behind the register hadn't said anything by this point. His feet were kicked up on the counter, and you were pretty sure he hadn’t looked up from his magazine since you came in.

It was dark outside by now, the street lights the only way to see where you were going. It had been early evening when you had first rushed in. Abandoning your condensation drop race, you sneaked a look out the wide windows that lined the front of the store. There, half-way hidden in the shadows of the large tree, silhouetted by the street lamp light. You jerked back, heart jumping up 100 beats per minute. God, you hoped he hadn’t seen you. But he had to know you were in here. So why hadn’t he come in? Why hadn’t he left?

You felt sick. You were going to be sick.

The door chimed as they slid open. Your fight or flight response kicked into overdrive

(Definitely flight). You ducked behind a display of dill pickle flavored chips. Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. Did you jinx yourself? Did he see you looking out and take that as an invitation? If he tried to do something, would the cashier help you? Would he even think something was wrong? Would he call a hero?

“Hey,” A voice broke you out of your panicked internal monologue. “The hell are you doing down there?”

Wait. You knew that gruff, irreverent voice.

“Bakugou?”

You and Bakugou were in the same class at UA. You weren’t sure he actually knew your name, though, much less that you sat a few seats away from each other.

You looked up from your crouch behind the chips display at his confused and slightly annoyed looking vermilion eyes. Well, his default state was slightly annoyed, so maybe that second part didn’t mean much. He had one hand in his pocket, the other loosely holding a bottle of cola by the neck.

“Umm,” you said, flustered. “I dropped a 500 yen coin. So, you know, don’t want to lose that. And, hey! These chips are 500 yen, too! So if I find it I can get a bag!” You nervously laughed, still not standing.

He narrowed his eyes at you, furrowing his eyebrows. Letting your self-consciousness take over, you slowly stood, rubbing your arm awkwardly and not meeting his gaze. Your eyes nervously darted to the large window, trying to see past the glare of the store lights.

“The hell are you looking at?” Bakugou said, lazily turning his head to look out.

“Don’t!” You said without thinking. You grabbed his uniform shirt sleeve and pulled him toward you, if only to get his attention away from looking outside.

He jerked back away from you, bringing up his arm as a barrier between you, as if you could ever do anything to hurt him. “Hah? What the hell?”

You looked away, wringing your hands together. “Sorry, I just… Can-can you do me a favor?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Outside, across the street, there’s a big oak tree next to the street light. Is there… Is there someone still standing there?”

His glare turned less harsh. He rotated his neck and shoulders as if he was stretching his muscles, sneaking a glance through the window. He hummed low in his throat and turned back to you. “Yeah, there’s some creep there. Can’t make them out too well. You know that guy?”

You pressed your lips, slinking farther to the back of the store and away from the view of the window. “It’s nothing. I can deal with it later. Sorry to bother you.”

“Jeez,” Bakugou huffed, not buying it for a second. He followed your retreat, looming over you as your back hit the cold window door of the fridge. “You’re really bad at lying, aren’t you? What, is he some ex you’re trying to avoid? Owe someone money?” He smirked at his joke, but his face turned serious again when he saw your concerned and fearful expression.

“The truth is,” you started in a whisper. “I have a stalker. That guy out there has been following me for a few weeks. Usually it’s from school to work, but today he was waiting till I got done with my shift. I-I didn’t want him to know where I live, so I started taking all these back streets to try and lose him. I thought he’d just get bored or something, but he was always just behind me. So I came in here. Maybe if I Just waited here for a while he’d get bored and leave, but he’s been standing out there, waiting for me, for hours now, and I just want to go home and forget all about this but if I step outside…”

You weren’t sure when you started crying. All you knew was that at some point you couldn’t keep it in any more and everything started pouring out. You started hiccuping with the effort to keep back tears and making a scene, the heels of your hands digging into your eyes. Bakugou awkwardly rubbed the back of his head and looked away.

“Jeez,” he said under his breath. “I never know what to do when girls cry. Uh, hang in there?” He patted your shoulder, bringing his hand back when you flinched from his touch. “Have you, like, tried calling the police?”

“Of course I have. They said they can't do anything because he hasn’t actually done anything illegal. And it’s not like I can get a restraining order or something because I don’t know who he is.” You sniffed.

“Huh. Well. You want me to go kick his ass?”

Your brain took a second to process his response, then you burst out in a fit of giggles. He smiled back, more like a self-satisfied smirk. You tried to gulp down a breath, laughing becoming frenzied as the stress of the situation finally overwhelmed you. Then, as suddenly as you started, you stopped as an idea slammed into you.

“Actually, maybe you could do that.” Bakugou quirked his brow at you. “No, not literally. I mean, well, you’re scaring looking-“

“Hey!”

“And I was just thinking that maybe if someone was with me - if you were with me - when I walked home, then he wouldn’t think he could, I don’t know, take advantage of the situation?”

“You want me to be your bodyguard?”

“I mean, when you put it like that…” You fiddled with your hands again.

You stood in silence, the only sound the buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you and the hum of the drinks fringes behind you.

Bakugou shoved his drink in your hands. “Pay for this for me. I’m gonna grab some instant noodles and boa buns too. You know how to get home from here?”

You blinked up at him, twisting the bottle anxiously in your hands. “If we get to the train station, then I know where to go from there.”

He jerked his head to the front. “Great, let’s hurry it up. I want to get home too, you know.”

You blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really. Move your ass.”

You followed closely behind him, paying for the snacks at the counter. You hesitated when the doors to the convenience store slide open, standing half-way out. The street light hit your eyes differently out here, blinding you to the already dark shadows. Was that a twitch of movement? A hidden figure in the mess of shapes cast by the trees?

Bakugou’s grip on your wrist shocked you out of your grim hyperactive imagination like a bucket of ice water. His mouth was pulled into a frown, but he gently pulled you out of the doorway. He let you go as you walked out of the light of the store. You desperately wanted him not to.

It didn’t take long before you heard a third set of footsteps join yours and Bakugou’s. You inched closer to him, arms brushing together. Seemingly unconcerned, Bakugou munched on a boa bun.

“Hey,” He said. The abruptness of it in the otherwise silent night made you jump. “Didn’t you win the 50 meter dash in the sports festival last year?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Cool. This should be easy, then.”

He whipped around, chucking the boa bun directly at the man following you. You heard a sound of surprise. Bakugou grabbed your hand and took off in the other direction. Your feet pounded against the sidewalk, knees high in a way that you would have considered indecent in your uniform skirt if you weren’t already terrified. Your heart pounded in your ears as he led you down turn after turn, block after block. After the length of several 50 meter dashes, he let go of your hand, Both of your long strides slowing down as you came to a stop in the glow of the train station’s entrance. You bent over, hands steadying yourself on your thighs. Next to you, Bakugou stretched backward, pulling his arms back to ease the muscles.

“Well, that wasn’t too terrible, huh?” He said with a smirk.

You gave a breathy laugh. Standing up, you searched the dark around you for any signs of human disturbance. You pushed your hair out of your face, sweat sticking to your forehead from your impromptu marathon.

“Sorry you had to sacrifice your bun.”

He shrugged. “You‘ll just owe one. You know where to go from here?”

The two of you started down the road back to your house. You tried to fill the space between you with small talk. Bakugou would grunt in response every once and a while. You tried to ignore the feeling that he was getting annoyed with you. But whenever you would trail off, he’d snap at you to continue your line of thought.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you finally got home, just that it was late. The windows were dark and you fumbled with your key. Bakugou skeptically observed your house.

“You’re not home alone, right?” He asked.

“I am, actually. My parents work for a pretty new company, so they’re out of the city a lot for business trips.”

“Hah?” He sounded indignant, like you personally offended him. “They left you alone with this creep around?”

“I mean, I haven’t really told them.” You pressed your lips, trying not to meet his furious glare. “They already just deal with a lot. And I already told you what the police said. I just don’t want to worry them, you know?”

He tapped your forehead with his knuckles. “Idiot. Parents are supposed to worry, that’s what they’re there for.” He glowered as his cell phone rang. Fishing it out of his pocket, he mumbled, “Speak of the devil.” He held up a hand in goodbye. You waved a little before dropping in to a bow of gratitude. You could hear him arguing with the person on the other end of the line.

You triple checked all the locks on your windows and doors, turning on all the lights. You drew the curtains in tight, not looking too deeply into the dark outside. But you were home now, you were safe behind these familiar walls. And besides, that guy didn’t know where you lived, right?

~~~

You were still half asleep at your desk in school the next day. You hadn’t slept well last night, jerking back awake at the slightest irregular noise. You were becoming a wreck. You weren’t sure exactly how much more of this you could take. After you had woken up for the n-th time last night, you had typed out a text to your mom, explaining what was happening back home. Agonizing over the text, you ended up deleting it.

You started nodding off. You could just rest your eyes for a second, right? It was a passing period, so you had some time.

A stack of textbooks slammed down on your desk. You shrieked, throwing yourself back. You would have fallen back if someone didn’t catch your chair.

“Whoa, hang on there, (Y/N)!” Kirishima caught your chair and set you back upright. Bakugou drummed his fingers on the textbooks he had just stopped your heart with.

“Thought you were going to bed after I left last night,” He said.

“Ooh, left last night?” Mina said, sliding over. “Is there something we need to know?”

“Lay off, Pinkie!”

“No, it’s no big deal, really!” You tried to salvage the situation, waving your hands in front of you. “We just walked home in the same direction is all.”

“Walking home together?” Sero said, leaning back in his chair. “That’s a pretty big leap in your relationship, don’t you think, Bakugou?”

“I said to lay off, you damn extras!”

The small group started playfully arguing with each other. It didn’t feel at all serious, especially since every one but Bakugou was laughing and joking against his threats.

“Can’t anyone have a private conversation around here?” Bakugou said angrily. He stomped away, turning back at the door. “Well, aren’t you coming?” Realizing he was talking to you, you quickly excused yourself and hurried after him.

Bakugou was leaning out an open window, the autumn wind tossing his hair. Not sure exactly what you say, you bowed a little. “Thanks again for last night.”

“Do you have any clubs after school?” Bakugou asked, ignoring your gratitude.

You blinked.”No, I don’t. I have to head to work after the final bell.”

“And how far is that from here?”

“Not very. It’s a Japanese sweets cafe that opened nearby. I’ve seen some people with our school’s uniform there, so I guess it’s pretty popular here.”

“And how long’s your shift?”

“From 4 to 6:30 on school days, 8 to 4 on the weekends. But, um, why?”

He scoffed, knocking your forehead with his knuckle like he had the night before. “Idiot. Obviously because I’m gonna make sure you get to work and home okay. You said that weirdo followed you from school to work. So we’ll walk there together then back to your place. At least till your parents get back in town, because you’re definitely telling them, you got it?”

You could feel yourself blushing hard. “Yeah, sure, of course! That’s really kind of you, actually. Thank you!”

Bakugou waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t take it personally or anything. I just don’t want to be watching the news and hear your dumbass got kidnapped or some bullshit like that.”

You weren’t really sure how to respond to that, so you just twirled a lock of hair around your finger. “Still, I really appreciate it. It’s really heroic of you!”

Bakugou whipped his head away, but you were almost sure you caught his cheeks turning pink. “Tch, whatever. Don’t think too hard about it. And I still expect payment! You better be ready to cough up some of those sweets from your job!”

~~~

“So, (Y/N),” Your coworker, Matsu, said while elbowing you good-naturedly. “Who’s your friend you brought in today?” She winked and nodded her head at a small table set on the patio of your workplace.

Bakugou was studying, gnawing at the end of his pen. He’d planted himself there after the two of you left school. He’d kept on a steady diet of sweets since your shift started, and you started getting worried about what your paycheck at the end of the month would look like. Once again, you talked the whole way through your walk with only interspersed responses from the blond. But you felt much more comfortable chatting this time, less like you were bothering him. Although you knew he would never admit it, you had a feeling that Bakugou could really be kind under all that ego and anger.

You started placing chick-shaped meika hiyoko in a tray in the display case. “Bakugou is a friend from school. Well, I think you’d call him a friend, anyway. He’s just waiting for my shift to end to walk me home.”

You didn’t like the self-satisfied look that came over Matsu’s face. “Ooh, walking you home, huh?”

“Oh, stop coming up with ridiculous ideas! He’s just…” You trailed off. How exactly were you meant to explain your situation?

You were saved from responding with a knock on the window. Bakugou mouthed an order of Shingen Momo. You quickly excused yourself despite Matsu’s teasing protests.

Bakugou had a healthy stack of plates from previous sweets stacked next to his text book. You tried mentally adding a tally of how much his little feast was going to cost you. You set the plate down and looked over his shoulder at what he was studying.

“Wow,” You commented. “That looks really difficult. Did I miss something in class today?”

“No,” He said. “I’m studying for college entrance exams.”

“Oh, right. You want to get into that famous hero college, right? I guess they have to be pretty tough. I heard Izuku in our class wants to go there, too.”

Bakugou snapped the pencil he was holding. “That damn Deku! Always trying to take my ideas! Who does he think he is, trying to be a hero, huh?! No one even knew he had a Quirk until recently! He pretty much breaks every bone in his body when he uses it! How’s a loser like that meant to be a hero?!”

You were a little shocked. You didn’t think you’d ever seen Bakugou this suddenly passionate about anything. Yet, despite his negative ramblings, he came across as admiring the boy with green hair in your class, talking about Izuku’s training schedule and how strong he had gotten since they knew each other in middle school. You couldn’t help but giggle at his sudden uproar. Hearing you, Bakugou cut himself off, quickly glancing away.

He fished another pencil out of his bag and re-focused on his text book. “That creep is still here.” Your mouth went dry as all frivolity seeped from your body. Bakugou stealthy pointed the end of his pencil to a garden store across the street. “He’s been walking in and out of stores this whole time. He’s hiding out there now. Definitely keeping an eye out.”

You gulped hard. “What should we do?”

“Well, first, you can bring me another momiji manju. Then, go back to work. Let me know when your shift ends. You guys have a back door, right? We can go through that, cut through the big inside shopping center.” He pulled out his phone and opened an app. “I looked it up. There’s another train station near here. It goes right to the one near your house. We’ll jump on there.”

You expected your heartbeat to slow down now that there was a solution to the probable danger. But instead it kept speeding up as you thought of the work Bakugou had put into researching his escape plan.

“Wow,” You breathed. “I guess you really are my hero, huh?”

Bakugou bristled, turning his face away before you could see it turning red (although the tips of his ears were practically a cherry color by now), and shoved an empty plate at you. “Momiji manju! And make sure it’s hot this time!”

~~~

“He’s still behind us.”

Your stalker was more cautious this time. He was making more of an effort to go unnoticed, ducking in and out of shops, getting lost in the crowd, but still keeping an uncomfortably close distance.

Bakugou clicked his teeth. “This guy doesn't know when to quit. You’re sure he doesn’t know where you live, right?”

“I’ve never seen him around. But…” You let the thought hang between the two of you like a dark cloud.

Bakugou seemed to be contemplating something for a second. Clenching and unclenching his fists, his hand shot forward to tightly grip onto yours. You started a little at his sudden aggressive hand holding, but flexed your fingers to intertwine with his. Bakugou cleared his throat, looking away.

“You’re not-“ You could have sworn you heard his voice crack, not that you would ever admit it. Bakugou cleared his throat and started again. “You’re not scared of heights, are you?”

“Not really. Why?”

Faster than you could keep up with, Bakugou pulled you closer. His other arm swept down, scooping you up under your knees and holding you to his chest. He took two large steps before kicking off a vending machine on the side of the street. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he took off his support from your back, pointing his hand palm down and releasing a blast. The explosion rocked through your ears as the two of you were propelled upward. A scream died in your throat. Just before you landed on the roof of a store neighboring the street you were just walking along, he released another explosion which propelled you even higher and further.

“I thought you said you weren’t afraid of heights,” Bakugou said with a laugh in his voice. “Open your eyes.”

You didn’t really notice how tightly you had clenched your eyes until he told you to open them. You had your head buried in the crook of his neck, the scent of caramelized sugar and smoke overwhelming your senses. You cracked open one eye just as Bakugou launched you both high in the air. You lost your breath, gazing in wonder at the sight before you. The sky was ablaze with red, oranges, and purples as the sun set. A band of stars was just twinkling into existence at the very top of the sky. The town below you looked just like a train-set model, tiny and delicate and perfect. Your stomach dropped as you plummeted back down. You laughed, yelling, clutching to him tighter. He tightened his hold around waist, smirk widening into a genuine heartfelt smile.

You both stumbled a bit, coming to a rocky landing in your neighborhood. There weren’t any more commercial buildings around, so you thought the residents would be grateful that they wouldn’t have to deal with shoe prints on their roofs. The air around you was crisp with the scent of melting sugar. You were lost to a giggle fit, holding your stomach as you tried to get a hold of yourself.

“You think he saw that coming?” Bakugou asked with a sideways grin.

“This is worth all the momiji manju in the world if we get to do that again!”

Bakugou’s chest swelled with pride as he brushed off invisible dirt. “Hah, what I tell you? It’s going to take a lot more than some creep in a black hoodie to get one over on Bakugou Katsuki.”

You clapped for him. “Full marks, Mr. Future-Number-One-Hero.” He ducked his head, looking away bashfully. You started walking in the direction of your house. “How did you even come up with that idea?”

“Rockets. I figure you have to get some pretty powerful force to shoot something that high up. And considering my Quirk is the most powerful force out there, well, it was a cinch.”

“So is that going to be your hero name, then? Rocket Man?”

He scowled. “No way! My hero name’s gonna be something way cooler! Like, like,” For someone who had dedicated his whole life to becoming a hero, you thought it was a little cute that he had left off some of the more practical aspects, like what he would be called. He snapped his fingers. “What about Lord Explosion?!”

You tried to bite back a laugh. You failed. “It’s a little obvious, don’t you think?”

“Alright then. What about King Murder?”

“Well, it’s certainly direct.”

“Wait, I’ve got it! Lord Explosion Murder!”

You stopped trying to hide your laughter. “Perfect. I can see it on all the T-shirts now.”

He pouted, no doubt trying to look menacing. “Alright, what’s your great idea?”

You hummed in thought. “What about Ground Zero? That’s what you call the middle of a major disaster. You know, like an explosion? It’s kind of metaphorical, thematic, and way more marketable than having the word ‘murder’ in your title.”

Bakugou looked down, eyebrows furrowed. “Damn. That is good.” He gave you a sideways look. “What’s your Quirk, anyway?”

You fiddled with your fingers. “It’s nothing too fancy. Nothing heroic or strong like yours, I mean.” You pressed your lips together and whistled. Instead of a normal sharp note, however, you replicated a perfect Asian Koel call. Not a second later, you heard a reply from a nearby park. Altering your call al title, a small brown bird with white speckles and red eyes flew down and landed on the back of your hand. You alternated with a few more calls, a Pacific Swift, Gray Nightjar, Kentish Plover, and Japanese Sparrowhawk. One by one, the birds would respond and come to perch on your hand or shoulder, the plover taking a dignified seat on your head. The sparrowhawk squaked at Bakugou when he tried to poke it.

“I can recreate any birdsong if I hear it once,” You explained. The Koel cooed as you pet under its chin. “I can kind of understand them, too. Not in a Dr. Dolittle way or anything, more just the general idea of what they’re trying to communicate. Danger, hungry, food here, that kind of thing.”

“Must be fun in the spring.”

“Ugh, you have no idea. It’s impossible to sleep in.”

“Maybe they’re just trying to chat you up.” Bakugou created a little explosion in his hand. The birds squaked in protest and flew away. “Little bastards. Don’t birds have noises to let other birds know not to mooch on their territory?”

“You mean a song? And what do you have to defend anyway?”

He slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close again. “Birds mate for life or some shit, right? They need to know you’re not available.”

Your heart definitely didn’t skip a beat. Definitely.

~~~

One of the last things you expected the next morning was to find Bakugou waiting impatiently at your front door. “What am I supposed to do if you just don’t show up for class, huh?” He declared with a haughty attitude. “You’ll make me feel guilty.” He came in, slugging off his shoes at the doorway and collapsing on the couch in the living room. “Let me know when you’re done with breakfast then we can leave.”

“Oh,” You said. “I, uh, don’t usually eat breakfast. I try to get to school early, so…”

Bakugou furrowed his eyebrows. “Seriously? It’s the first thing in the morning. How are you supposed to have energy for the rest of the day?” He put on a begrudging air as he marched to the kitchen. He started pulling out pans and rummaging through the fridge and pantry. “Geez, you have nothing here! What, your parents didn’t leave any grocery money when they abandoned you here? Well don’t just stand there. Go finish getting ready. I’ll get something together by the time you’re done.”

Unsure about leaving him alone in your kitchen, but in no position to refuse him, you headed back to your bathroom to try and make it look like you had been getting a decent night's sleep for the past week.

Slugging your backpack over your shoulder, you came back downstairs to the smell of warm waffles. How Bakugou had managed to make a giant stack of fluffy waffles in the few minutes you were gone was beyond you.

“Shouldn’t we eat on the go?” You asked when he set down a plate on the table.

He tapped the long handle of the spatula against his shoulder. “You have way too many unhealthy habits. You don’t ask for help, you don’t eat breakfast. What am I going to do with you?” He pushed you down into a chair and took a seat in the one next to you, angrily stabbing the top waffle and taking a massive bite out of it before it even made it to his plate. “Eating on the go messes with your digestion. If you want to be helpful, start making a grocery list. You don’t work today, right? We’ll go to the store after school. I don’t need the stress of having you pass out from hunger on top of everything else.”

You stared at him as he wolfed down his breakfast. When he noticed you still haven’t taken anything, he shoved the plate to you. Taking a waffle, you couldn’t help but have a large smile spread across your face.

“You really are nice, aren’t you, Bakugou?”

He choked on his waffle. He refused to look at you for the rest of the morning.

~~~

Bakugou had been walking you to and from home for three weeks now. People at school had definitely started to notice. Especially after he started to drag you to eat lunch with him and his friends, lunches that he had made for you. You started showing off your Quirk a little more. Your favorite was calling down crows, bribing him with shinny pins and glass gems. You especially got a kick out of Denki freaking out when the birds mimicking human speech.

Without really noticing, you had slowly stopped being so nervous. You didn’t triple check your windows and doors at night, you weren’t always looking over your shoulder, you didn’t flinch when the chime over the door at work sounded.

You had also been growing significantly closer to Bakugou. You didn’t think it was at all possible for someone so rough to have such a sweet side. Sure, everything kind he did was still smothered in his devil may care attitude, but you came to learn that his abrupt remarks and aggressive personality was just a top layer. Bakugou knew what he wanted in life and was never subtle about sharing his thoughts. But his own emotions still came as an annoying mystery to him. He would intertwine his fingers with yours, declaiming with a blush and avoiding your eyes that he just wanted just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t get lost or snatched away from him. He made sure you started eating well, something you had all but dropped due to stress. He would pull you into the kitchen with him, having you help him making breakfast and your bento lunches.

There was one situation where sitting on the patio of the sweet shop you worked at. Your boss had noticed his frequent stays and had recruited him to help test new recipes. Not to mention this helped ease the impact on your pay check.

Munching on a new flavor of melon pan, you two chatted under the warm sun. Giggling at some remark he made, you froze when you felt his fingers brush your face. Suddenly, Bakugou was less than a breath away from you. He brushed a lock of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. His hand dropped down to your chin, eyes falling to your lips. Your heart started stuttering, breath coming out in shallow gasps. He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip.

Bakugou looked up, searching your face. You let your eyes flutter closed, leaning forward.

You both must have jumped three feet in the air with the interrupting squawk. A crow perched on your head, beak darting forward to peck at the melon pan forgotten in Bakugou’s hand. Bakugou yelled at the bird, waving it away and yelling obscenities at it. But that didn’t stop him from tearing off a chunk of the sweet bread and throwing it to him.

You both kept the blushes for the rest of the day.

~~~

You knew that nothing this good could last forever.

It started out like any other new-normal day. You were walking home from work with Bakugou. It was late autumn now, the days getting shorter and nights longer. The sun had already completely set as you strolled down the street. You didn’t notice something was wrong immediately. But then your stomach started to turn into knots. You shuffled closer to Bakugou who seemed to be noticing that something was amiss, too. You kept telling yourself that you were being paranoid. Nothing had happened for so long now, why would something suddenly happen now?

And then you heard the sparrow start singing. It was high pitched and panicked. A few swept down, fluttering in front of the two of you before cascading back up to their tree. You knew that sound. It meant danger.

You latched yourself to Bakugou’s side. “Bakugou,” You whispered. “Something’s wrong.”

He wrapped his arm around you. “Yeah, I noticed. Stay close, okay?”

You were afraid that you were practically tripping over his feet. But you didn’t want to move away. Every muscle tense, you looked over your shoulder. He was walking behind the street lights, staying out of the majority of the light. The street lights just barley illuminated his dark clothes, his hunched figure, determinately marching at a steady pace. Was he holding something? Did he just speed up? Was he-?

Bakugou stopped suddenly. You stumbled a bit, clutching his arm to get your balance again. “Bakugou?”

He whipped around. “Hey! Asshole!” He turned to you, hesitating for only a second before cradling your face, maybe a little more aggressively than he should have, rattled by nerves, and kissed you. It wasn’t extremely romantic, your teeth clashed for a moment, his fingers burying in your hair. He dropped one of his hands to your hip, pulling you closer and angling his head. The kiss was desperate, urgent, trying to communicate feelings and thoughts that it would have been difficult to vocalize. Your eyes fluttered closed. You pressed back up into him, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other tangerine in his mess of spiky blond hair.

The seconds stretched on for what seemed like minutes, but when you pulled away it felt like it was over all too fast. You tried to regain your breath, slightly panting. He looked into your eyes with an intensity and softness you had never seen from him, all his layers peeled back to show a soft and caring core.

His face suddenly hardened. He pulled you into him, turning his face to look back at your stalker, who you had almost completely forgotten about during your kiss.

“She’s not interested!” He shouted. “She’s got a boyfriend! Get it through your thick skull! And if I ever find out you’re nothing my girlfriend again, I’ll kill you, got it?!”

You looked at your stalker straight on from the first time. He was this dark shadow that cut through the street lamps lights. He was shaking, with nerves you hoped, but more likely with rage. But at least, standing in front of you, with someone strong at your side, he looked so much more human. This wasn’t a shadow with fangs and claws. Just a person. Sure, an unhinged person who had been following you, but you had back up. A whole team of support both emotionally and physically.

The stalker didn’t say anything, just stared at the two of you. He looked like he was going to come to you, to fight, to scream. But he just turned, marching away, back into the dark.

~~~

“Do you think he’s actually done?” You asked. You were back at your house, nervously chopping leeks for lunch in the coming week.

“Damn better be,” Bakugou said. He reclined on the couch, flipping through a magazine.

“I guess that means you don’t have to walk me home any more then,” You said, leadingly.

You smirked when you heard him slam the magazine back on the coffee table. “Like hell! You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you? I can walk you home whenever I damn well feel like it! Or, you know, if you want me to, I mean. You still want me to, right?”

You tried to press down your grin as you walked back into the living room, sitting down next to him. “So, you were serious about that? You’re my boyfriend now?”

He scowled. “I don’t say anything you mean. You’re mine now, got it?”

You smiled and kissed his check. “Only if that means you’re mine, too.”

He blushed up to his ears, pressing his face to the top of your head. “Sure.”

~~~

An hour later, there was a knock on the door.

Bakugou left just a little while ago, and since then you had taken a shower, changing into your pajamas. Coming down stairs to check the locks and lights one last time, you saw Bakugou’s laying across the back of the couch. You picked it up, rubbing your thumb over the collar. You’d have to give it back to him at school tomorrow. You smiled fondly, thinking of what he’d try to say to justify him forgetting something.

And then someone knocked at the door.

You started a little. You put a hand to your chest to calm your beating heart. It must have been Bakugou. You supposed Bakugou had realized he had misplaced his jacket and come back. Well, you didn’t mind seeing him again, you supposed.

Practically skipping to the front door, you opened the door with a smile. You barely had the door cracked when it slammed open, cracking against the wall, the knob indenting in the soft drywall. You shrieked and fell back, landing hard on your butt. Before you could regain your bearings, a heavy weight pressed down on you.

Your eyes bulged open. A man in all black was on top of you, knee pressing into your chest, one hand securely applying pressure to your throat and the other pressing a too sweet smelling rag against your nose and mouth. The bottom of his face was covered by a black bandana, but his eyes were wide and blood shot. He was muttering something to himself, or maybe you? But the blood rushing to your ears blocked out any cognizant thought.

Your hands flew around, slapping and shoving, trying to jab your thumbs into the soft tissues of his eyes, clawing at his cheeks. But nothing seemed to bother him too much. And then things started getting fuzzy at the edges. The spiked fear in your head started swirling around. Your limbs felt heavy and stopped responding to your commands. Then everything fell, and the dark pulled you in with an ice cold grip.

~~~

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. It was dark, so dark you almost thought you were blindfolded. You were curled up in an uncomfortable ball, something fibrous was shoved in your mouth. You tried to poke it out with your dry tongue, but it didn't budge. Your hands were fastened behind you with plastic zip ties. You flexed your fingers, coming to grasp the thin but strong metal bars behind you. You tried to stretch out your legs, but your bare feet came into contact with more of these bars. Trying to sit up, you could only manage an awkward hunch as a roof of bars thunked against your head. A cage. You were in a dog cage. You were tied up in a dog cage in the dark.

You tried to kick against the bars, but you couldn’t build up much force with so little space. All it did was shake the cage in an awful rattle. You stopped when you heard footsteps. You shuffled on your side to the back of the cage, which wasn’t saying much with how little room there was any way.

The door to the room the cage was in opened. You squinted against the sudden light, temporarily blinded. Blinking up at the figure of your capture, You felt the blood in your veins turn to ice. Your ears rang with the sudden surge of adrenaline and every muscle in your body told you to get ready to run.

Your capture, your stalker, stood like a horrible stain, silhouetted in the light. He pulled back the hood on his jacket, beaming down at you. This is the first time you had seen his face up close. Did you know him? You think he might have come into the shop once or twice. But you couldn’t think of any time you would have talked to him.

He smiled like a kid in a candy store. It made you ill. “You’re awake!” He said. His voice was chipped, strained from years of smoke. The reek of it hung on his clothes and wafted through the room. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I know it’s small and uncomfortable. But I had to make sure, you know? You get it, right? I had to speed everything up, see? I just-” He balled his hands into fists. Suddenly, he slammed down on his knees in front of you. Your shriek was cut off by the gag in your mouth. “I had to get you away from him! The way he was all over you, touching you, grabbing you, k-k-kissing you!” He slammed his fists on the cage, making it shudder. He saw your wide eyes, your trembling. He lowered his voice, leaning down to look closer at you. “I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t your fault. He was taking advantage of you, right? But it’s okay, I have you now! And don’t worry, we’ll get out of here soon. There’s this place, way out in the mountains. We’ll be safe there. I have a room, just for you. A little palace for the perfect little doll…”

He tried to reach through the bars and touch your face. You screamed through your gag, trying to kick away his hand. He jerked back, surprised. He got angry in a flash. Slamming his fist against the bars again, he got up, muttering to himself about how this would all be solved once he could get you out of the city, how that damn boy had tried to poison you against him.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. You had to get out. You had to get out! You squirmed against your bonds, but only succeeded in having them cut deeper into your flesh.

You felt a chill in the room. You squinted, trying to see through the dark. You noticed a blackout curtain taped around a window. One corner fluttered away. The window must have been slightly opened. If you could just get your gag out…

You chewed at the dense fabric. Bits were coming off in your mouth, getting stuck between your teeth. Working your jaw until it felt like it was about to fall off, you finally managed to work it loose enough to shove it from your mouth with your tongue. Pressing your lips together, you let out a pitiful excuse for a whistle. You swallowed hard, willing saliva back into your mouth. Once more, you whistled, the sound transforming into a Russet Sparrow call. You thought you heard a faint reply from outside, but couldn’t be sure with every one of your nerves rattled and frayed.

You ran your fingers along the bottom edge of the cage. Along the back side, where the bars met the hard metal floor, there was a small lip of metal, something that had been welded wrong in the cage’s construction. Maneuvering your bound wrists, you started to saw at the zip ties with that jutting piece of metal.

~~~

He’d forgotten his damn jacket.

Bakugou was on his way home after leaving your place. Halfway there, he suddenly realized he felt a lot colder than he had when walking to your house. He supposed he could always turn around and pick it up now. It would give him another excuse to see you. But his old hag would probably just get angry at him if he showed up later than normal. Still, maybe he could just use the later hour as an excuse and stay at your house for the night. Sleeping on the couch, of course! But he did wonder what you looked like first thing in the morning…

Feathers flung in his face. Bakugou jerked back, swiping at the air in front of him. A couple of those small birds you would chirp at was frantically flying circles above him. One dive bombed him again, chirping nervously and fast.

“Beat it, dumb birds!” He whacked at them again. Stupid jelous birds.

Then he noticed their patterns. Sure, they would dive down at him, but then they would shoot up and fly back in the direction of your house, circling back to him. It was almost like they wanted him to go back there…

Bakugou broke out in a cold sprint. His feet pounded the pavement as the birds flew leading the way. He was panting by the time he reached your street, more out of the rising dread in his chest than actual exhaustion.

Reaching the front gate to your house, he froze. The door was wide open. He launched himself inside, yelling your name. His coat lay in a crumpled heap just inside the entrance. Underneath it was a strange rag. Picking it up, Bakugou felt that it was slightly wet. He brought it to his face and sniffed, jerking it back when the sickly sweet smell hit his nose. Chloroform.

His mide connected the dots in a flash. He yelled angrily and punched the wall, the drywall caving it without his notice. He dropped the rag and headed back outside.

He saw the birds chittering in a tree branch. “Hey!” He yelled at them. “You know where she is, right? She sent you to tell me. Take me to her!” At the back of his mind, Bakugou felt like an idiot for yelling at birds in the middle of the night. A sense of relief overwhelmed him when the birds chirped again and purposefully flew away, darting back to him to make sure he was following.

~~~

You couldn’t tell if you were making any headway with the zipties. Did they feel looser or was that your imagination? Or perhaps you were just losing feeling in your hands from the cutoff of blood flow. But you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop the one thing that might help yourself.

With a sound that to you mimicked a thunder clap, one of the zipties snapped. You almost sobbed in relief as you brought your hands to your front and rubbed your wrists. You tugged on the other plastic tie around your wrist, but it was still stubbornly strong. You’d have to cut it off with a knife or something.

A knife! You needed something to protect yourself with. There was no way of knowing if your bird distress call had actually reached anyone. You needed to take care of yourself, get outside, get to a phone or a police station or a hero or something. You knew you had a slim chance of taking on your attacker in a one-to-one fight. He had at least a foot and a hundred pounds on you, not to mention whatever his Quirk might be.

You fumbled around in the dark, trying to find the latch for the cage. Swiping randomly, your fingers clutched around the pull handle for the door. You tried to yank to open but it wouldn’t budge. Feeling around, you clutched a heavy padlock firmly attached to the handle. Of course your stalker would have taken extra precautions, and you didn’t think you could break the lock with a thin piece of metal.

No sooner had hopelessness started to creep back into your mind than you heard the door to the room click open. You threw yourself back against the far side of the cage, shoving the gag back in your mouth and putting your arms behind you as if they were still tied.

Your stalker peeked in, smiling widely like he had a wonderful surprise for you. “We’re almost ready,” He said, giddily. “I can get you ready to move now. You’re just going to have to sleep for a little longer, okay? By the time you wake up, everything will be fixed!”

You watched in disgusted horror as he took out another rag, licking it to soaking with his saliva. Was that what he had pressed against your mouth and nose back at your house? Did he have some sort of chloroform-saliva Quirk? If you weren’t going to be sick before, you definitely were now.

But then he fished out a key from the pocket of his ill-fitting sweatpants. His hands shook as he tried to fit the key in the lock of the cage. You still had the element of surprise on him. You pictured your plan of attack. When he opened the cage door to grab you, you’d kick him. Then, while distracted, you’d claw at his face, bite him if you had to. You didn’t need to beat him, you just needed to distract and disorientate him enough to make it out of the room. You could close the door behind you. Maybe there was something near you could barricade it with. Then just sprint as fast as you could to the door. He made it sound like you were still in the city, in a residential district as the very least. You could run next door, hide in someone's backyard, pound on their door until they let you in to call the police.

Just as he fit the key into the lock, there was a loud sound from outside the room. It sounded like it came from downstairs, banging. Your stalker glowered, ripping the key from the lock. He tossed it on a desk in the room, slamming the door behind him as he marched out to deal with the intrusion.

You were barely able to fit your hand through the bars, much less reach the key. You took a steadying breath before starting to whistle the sparrow song again. You heard a faint reply from outside. You whistled more frantically, a sharp song that indicated danger. You could just barley make out a lump pushing against the blackout curtains covering the window. A tiny tan bird head popped up from the corner of the curtain. You could have cried. Quieting your whistle, you nodded your head at the desk with the key. The little bird fluttered its wings, hopping around the room. It probably didn’t have the best night vision either.

You heard banging coming from downstairs. There was a roar of something you quickly recognized as an explosion. Bakugou? Your message had reached him! And now he was fighting your attacker by himself. You had hoped he would call the police or a hero or something. Honestly, you thought to yourself, you should have seen this coming.

The sparrow found the desk. It pushed the key off with its beak. The key was about the same size as the sparrow. It had a little trouble carrying the key over to you. It dropped it just within reach of your index finger to pull it into the cage. Using two fingers to hold the key, the most you could fit between the bars, you jammed the key into the lock and twisted it. You had never been so happy to hear a click before.

You slammed the cage door open, causing the bird to flutter away in surprise. You stretched your aching muscles as you unfolded yourself from the cage. Whipping your head around, you tried to find some sort of weapon you could use to help Bakugou. Seeing nothing in the small room, you opened the door just enough to peak out. As silently as you could, your legs still half asleep from being stuck in a cramp position, you snuck out into the hall.

Downstairs, you heard Bakugou yell. The little sparrow dove down the staircase and you followed. You saw Bakugou and your attacker grappling in the living room which was crowded with moving boxes. Your stalker had his teeth sunken in to Bakugou’s arm. His arm fell limply to his side as numbness seemed to spread to that whole part of his body.

Frantically looking around, you saw a half-packed lamp sticking out of one of the boxes. You heaved it up, the weight reassuring in your hands.

Bakugou spotted you over your stalker’s shoulder. “(Y/N)!” He barked out. “Run!”

Just as your attacker turned around, you surged forward with the lamp held aloft. With a scream, you brought it down on his head with all the strength you could muster in your addled limbs. He crumpled to the floor like wet cardboard. Blood began to leak from his skull. You dropped the lamp, the feeling on impact still drumming through your fingers.

“(Y/N)!” Bakugou called again. He stumbled to you, his left side already half paralized by your stalker’s Quirk infused bite. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you? I told you to run, idiot! How did he get inside your house?” Before he had a chance to breathe, much less answer his questions, his left leg gave out on him. You caught him, halfway holding him up.

“I’ll tell you everything when we get to the police, okay?” You said in a frazzled voice. He tried to haul himself up to standing, but he might as well have been standing on a broken ankle.

Bakugou told you where the front door was. You half dragged him through the house to get outside. Just as you opened the front door, you felt something hard and heavy plow into the small of your back. You went flying forward, dropping Bakugou who landed with a grunting thud.

“(Y/N)!” You heard from behind you. You pushed yourself up, looking behind you. Your stalker, face now red with dripping blood and wild eyes, stumbled towards the two of you. “Don’t you see what he’s doing? He’s trying to poison you against me! He’s going to take you away from me! Unless… He already has! He’s corrupted you!” He lifted his leg to kick Bakugou in the stomach. Bakugou lifted his good arm and released an explosion aimed at the stalker’s stomach. The second man yelled in pain and was blasted backwards.

Bakugou shoved himself up, propping himself up on his good knee and maneuvered his way in front of you. “This time, listen to me and go,” He said sternly.

“Bakugou!” You protested.

He looked over his shoulder at you and smirked. “Hey, I’m your hero, right? That means I got to protect you, even if I get hurt.”

Your stalker roared, thrashing as he picked himself off the ground. The place where Bakugou’s explosion had caught him ripped his oversized hoodie, revealing his belly and chest that now had burns. He roared again and started charging to you.

You gripped Bakugou’s good shoulder, pulling him back. You threw yourself in front of him, spreading your arms wide and closing your eyes tight.

Just when you were expecting a blow from your stalker, you heard an annoyed and surprised grunt from him instead. Opening your eyes, you saw the deranged man tangled in ribbons of white cloth. He snapped and tried to lash out at it, but the more he struggled the tighter it became.

A man appeared behind him, seeming to melt out of the shadows. He tugged the white cloth so it snapped tight around your stalker, pinning his arms and legs so he fell over unbalanced. The man controlling the cloth was dressed in all black, goggles over his eyes and a mess of black hair. He pulled his goggles up, revealing extremely tired looking eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at the two of you.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime by now?”

~~~

The next half hour was a rush of commotion. The hero, Eraserhead, who had secured your stalker called for an ambulance and the police. As soon as the red and blue lights were visible, he left, leaving your stalker tied and gagged against a street lamp. You barely had time to thank him while Bakugou grumbled about not needing saving behind you.

The paramedics gave Bakugou an injection to counteract the poison from your stalker’s Quirk. The police quickly took him away as he shouted obscenities, making promises that he’d come back to you, that he’d save you. You tried to take some comfort in the officer’s promise that the man would never see the outside of a jail cell again.

You sat in the back of the ambulance, a heavy blanket around your shoulders. You had just finished giving your statement to the police. The neighbors surrounding the house you were trapped in had come outside to see what the commotion was all about. You felt pinned by a million unasked questions, unsaid accusations, prying eyes. You were going to be sick.

“Hey.” You looked up. Bakugo stood in front of you, rubbing feeling back into his previously paralized arm. He jerked his head to the side slightly. You scooted over and he sat next to you, pulling the blanket over his shoulders too. “So,” he said.

“So,” You echoed.

“The police called my parents,” He said after a moment of silence. “Mom’s coming to pick us up. She said she can bring some extra clothes for you to change into, if you want. Dad’s making up the guest room.”

“What?”

He gave you a sideways look. “What, you think I’m letting you stay alone in that house after what happened tonight? You think I’m an idiot or something?” He put his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. He spoke into your hair. “You’re staying with me and my folks until your parents get back. Then I’m going to chew them out for leaving you alone for so long, and maybe then we’ll see if you can go back there.”

You giggled at his statement, half out of frazzled nerves and half out of love of his protective nature. You curled your fingers into his t-shirt, resting your head against his shoulder. “That sounds nice,” You mumbled, exhaustion and worn out adrenaline finally taking hold of your body. “It sure would make walking home easier.” Just before slipping under, you leaned up and kissed his cheek. “My hero.”

He pressed a kiss on the top of your sleeping head. “Always.”

#fanfic #wafflefriesfic #my hero academia x reader #bnha #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader

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farfromstrange · 2 years

Text

Customer Service | Matt Murdock

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!reader

Summary: After a particularly rough week, all you want to do is cry. It has you on edge and makes you say things you don’t mean. After letting out your anger on your boyfriend, he makes it his mission to take care of you for a change.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), Matt Murdock eats pussy like a champ, fingering, squirting (I feel filthy), emotional hurt/comfort, no use of y/n, no pronouns, reader has female body parts, 1st person pov (?)

a/n: As someone who quit their job in customer service for the exact same reasons I have stated in this fic, this is very personal to me and self-indulgent, again. I wrote this after a particularly bad day. Sometimes I wish Matt were real so he could actually do this to me.

There is nothing in all of existence that I loathe more than people. Why I chose to work in customer service in the first place has become more and more of a mystery to me. I could have quit after the first week, I should have, but whenever the thought crosses my mind, I tell myself: ‘It’s going to get better. You will get used to it.’ I did not, in fact, get used to it. Or, I did, I just started to hate myself even more. Every day I get home from an eight-hour shift, I’m tired, I’m exhausted and I feel the desperate need to throw myself off a cliff.

There are days when it’s easier. The elderly couple who comes in every Sunday, for example, to drink their coffee and have a lengthy conversation over a piece of cake, never fails to make me smile. They’re always kind, and forthcoming and they tip, even though I know they don’t have the money to.

Or the woman who likes to pick up lunch for her husband, she always calls me sweetheart, and she’s never bothered if her order takes just a little too long. The regulars chat me up and I like it because it makes me feel less alone behind the counter, as life passes me by and I can’t help to stare at the clock every five minutes to calculate how many hours of the day are left. They make it easier to forget about the overtime I inevitably have to put in every night. They know I don’t eat enough or smile enough or drink enough, and so they make me smile because they’re good people.

But some continuously want to tell me how to do my job, the one I’ve given blood and sweat for to master down to the smallest detail, and those who treat me like I’m responsible for their bad days and those who don’t care that I’m human, I just have to serve.

It’s so exhausting that some people don’t care about the workers behind the counter. I hate that my boss doesn’t seem to care either, that we don’t get paid enough, and that I’m expected to jump whenever they want me to. I got a life too, but that doesn’t matter because I’m cheap and they love to use those who never learned how to say no.

I physically can’t tell them I can’t work whenever I’m asked to pick up an extra shift, or when I’m sick or have to do anything else. It’s not even my main occupation and yet, here I am! Every day, I tell myself, I should just quit. It’s not my responsibility if they can’t treat their employees right. It’s not my responsibility they’re understaffed. I’m a student, I go to college, and I’m working hard on my degree - why should I prioritize my job over the thing that will determine the rest of my life?

And yet, every day, I go back. I go back and I work until my feet hurt and I’m sick and I’m tired and all I want to do is just cry. I go back because I, for the life of me, can’t say no. I can’t quit. I want to, but I can’t, and it’s killing me inside that I can’t talk about it the way I want to. In the end, I will always feel like everything is my fault and that I messed up, even though all I did was show up to work and turn into everyone’s punching bag.

My stupidity is what got me here. Usually, I would be home now, studying, but they asked me to pick up a late shift at the cafè again, and I worked for seven hours with only a fifteen-minute break in between - I look horrible, I smell of coffee and cake, and my body is hurting in all the wrong places. The weight is heavy in my stomach. I’m nauseous. I ate, but not enough. I’m hungry. I feel sick. Even the smallest sounds make me want to jump up the wall, kill someone, or perhaps even both. I’m angry, and I don’t even fucking know why because nothing happened. Other than a rather messy day with too much to do and too few people to do the work, the people weren’t even rude and I’ve had worse days - still, I feel everything at once and it’s ridiculous, really, because I’m an adult and I should know better than to let a rough day affect me. I don’t.

When he called and asked if I wanted to come over, I said yes. I didn’t want to, but saying no? Not something I would do, especially not to him. I walked into his apartment with a lump already in my stomach. The door creaked - God, I told him to oil it - and that was the first strike. I tossed my key into the bowl and it promptly fell back out. Second strike. My coat slipped from the hanger the second I hung it up. Third strike. I breathed, I had to, then went to the kitchen to make some dinner. Cooking usually works, usually, but the day must have gotten to me because the fourth strike - the fucking milk being expired - happened way too soon and it hit me, hard. After that, I was pretty much done for, and I knew, I just chose to ignore it.

Of course, I should have known I would screw up everything else, too.

“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice is kind and soft in my ear as he presses a kiss to my cheek. His stubble has never been something to bother me before until that very moment. I flinch away, not sure why. If he realized it - which I’m sure he did - he doesn’t show.

“Smells good,” he says.

I put the garlic into the pan. It smells too much like garlic and I hate it.

“What you making?”

“Pasta,” I tell him.

He kisses me again. “Mh-hm. How was your day?” the question is stupid, but it’s normal and he always asks. He gets himself a beer - only himself - removes the cap with his mouth and then leans against the counter.

He shouldn’t infuriate me. He shouldn’t make me angry just by standing there and asking me questions couples ask themselves, but inevitably, he does. And I hate myself all the more for the way my voice sounds when I answer him.

“Fine,” I say.

“Fine?” he asks. “How was work?” I feel like he’s getting suspicious. “You only had two lectures today, right? English lit and what was the other one?”

“Linguistics.”

“Ah, yes. Your least favorite.”

Perhaps that’s why I’m angry.

“You know,” he says and the tangent he goes on after revolves around him and only him, and while I don’t like talking about myself, that doesn’t mean he has to unload all of his stress on me - I don’t know why I think that way and it’s scaring me because I don’t actually feel that way, but at that moment I do and it’s all very confusing.

I just want to lock myself in his bedroom and cry. He looks so good with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up. He’s wearing his glasses, still, but his tie is loosened and he smiles because he knows I love that smile. I should love it. I should love the way his muscles tense underneath his shirt or the way his dress pants hang impossibly low on his hips, but for the first time, I don’t. I don’t love anything, I just feel anger, which makes me hate everything, but mostly myself.

I must have zoned out. Suddenly, he’s calling my name and he’s calling me sweetheart and he’s poking me with his hands - no, he’s stroking my hips, hugging me from behind, and it’s all too much. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I lie. He knows I’m lying. He can hear it in my heartbeat. He can feel it in the way I move away from him to rinse the now-empty pan in the sink.

How is the food already finished?

“You didn’t listen to a word I just said,” he dares to sound offended.

“No, I did.”

“Really, what did I say?”

“You and Foggy had a case, didn’t go well, bla bla bla. Same as every day.”

He sets the bottle down. “Alright, sweetheart, what’s wrong? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Oh, so just because I don’t care about hearing the same story repeat itself every day and you whining about it means there’s something wrong with me?”

He’s taken aback. Quite frankly, I’ve never snapped at him before, not like this, not out of nowhere, and we’ve been dating for over a year. With his super senses, there is little that eludes the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, especially when it comes to his girlfriend. I hate that it’s like this. I hate not having any privacy, even when I try to. But I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want privacy. Or, I think. I don’t even know what I want. I know I want to be around him, but at the same time, it hurts because the anger is too damn hot to swallow, and his concern doesn’t make it any better. It should be, but it’s not. I’m a lost cause.

“I was just telling you about my day,” he says. I would yell back at myself if I were him, but he knows me. He knows yelling doesn’t help. He knows I’d cry, but maybe that’s what I want. Maybe I want him to yell just so I have a valid reason to cry, to be angry.

I want him to hate me the way I hate myself.

That’s why I can’t help it anymore. “Maybe I don’t want to hear about your day.”

“What?”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Matthew!”

He’s confused. I don’t blame him. The second the words left my mouth, I regret them. They make me sound like the most selfish person on the whole planet. I can’t take them back though. If I did, he’d know something is wrong and then he’d worry, he’d pity me and no, I don’t want that. I want to rile him up. I’m not sure why, but it makes me so angry that he’s so calm and I’m… well, I’m me, but I’m also not me. I’m a stranger in my own body.

I put the pasta in a bowl. It stinks of alcohol and tomatoes and garlic, too much of it. I wonder how anyone could eat that.

“Here,” I shove it into his hand, “You’ve been served. I’m gonna take a shower.”

I’m a bad person. I’m pretty sure I am. Who yells at their boyfriend because they can’t deal with their own problems? Who makes the person they love more than life itself feel like shit on purpose for no reason whatsoever? A sane person wouldn’t. We have never been a normal couple, Matthew and I, but we’re trying. Turns out, I suck much more than I thought I would.

It’s not the age gap, I’m sure of it. I’m in my last year as an English Major and he’s a defense attorney. Somehow, we make it work. He loves me, I know he does. He’s afraid of rejection - he thinks everyone he loves will leave him, which is why it took us a while to find together. I should have known my words were going to hurt him unimaginably. He thinks he did something wrong, but it’s not him. It’s never him. He’s damaged, but he’s nothing if not perfect to me, most of the time.

I’m heavily crying at this point, trying to conceal my sobs, but it’s not working. The water is loud, not loud enough to fool Matt’s hearing, but even if he were to hear it, he knows better than to provoke me any further. He doesn’t know what’s going on and neither do I, so it’s just the two of us silently waiting for the other to come around. He shouldn’t have to feel that way. And so I cry more because God, I do not deserve that man. I don’t deserve his kindness or his love. I don’t. I really, really don’t.

And once I’m out of the bathroom, I remember why I don’t deserve him.

The table is set for two. Candles substitute for the harsh ceiling light. He knows it gives me headaches sometimes. He put a bowl out for me and a glass of wine. White wine. The sweet kind. The kind he hates but keeps around in case I ever need a glass. He’s drinking red wine. It’s cheap, but it looks expensive and he likes to feel special from time to time.

I hug my arms around my body. He has his back turned to me, fixing a salad in the kitchen - I must have forgotten it. The way he moves is almost angelic. He moves as if nothing happened, as if I didn’t just treat him like a bitch. He’s singing my favorite song or humming it, anyway. The room smells of him and me and the food I loathed before, but watching him do all of this for me, even now, is sucking the air out of my lungs and suddenly, I don’t mind the thought of eating with him.

I only want one thing. I don’t want to ask for it and he’s not going to do anything unless I talk. We agreed on that from the beginning, no matter what kind of intimacy it involves. Without consent or a proper conversation, nothing will happen. And I curse myself for not being able to speak without the tears blocking my view again.

“There’s a sweater on the couch,” he states. He knows I’m cold. “And some fuzzy socks, if you want.”

The clothes smell like him.

“I put some more salt in the pasta. I think you forgot to salt the water, so I took it upon myself. I hope you don’t mind. Also, I tried to make your favorite salad dressing, but I’m not sure if I managed to get it right this time.”

He smiles and then his glasses are gone and he has an apron on and he looks like he loves me, really loves me, and that’s it. I pull my legs up to my chest, falling deep into the couch and I cry. All the pain just comes exploding out of me like an active volcano.

The leather dents next to me. “Comfort or solution?” he asks. It’s so casual, I get the feeling he’s not mad at me.

“I don’t know,” it sounds so broken.

His arm finds around my shoulder. “Is this okay?” I can only nod. Yes.

He moves me gently so I’m in his lap and he can rock me like a baby. It feels good to be loved like this, but it’s also suffocating. Still, I can’t help but fall deeper into his hold because this is, in fact, all I needed. Too stubborn to ask for it, I almost ruined something good. I know I did. He knows, too, but unlike me, he knows the difference between me being mad at him and being mad at the world. He knows I don’t mean what I say unless we’re fighting, and this isn’t it. We’re not fighting. I’m just angry and I want to cry, even while crying, and that makes me cry even more.

“You want to talk about it?” he asks once I can finally breathe again.

I blow my nose like a disgusting person and say, “Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe.” And that about sums up all of my life.

“Is it school?”

I shake my head. If it’s not school, it can only be one other thing.

“Work?”

I nod.

“Anything happen or just a bad day?”

“Bad day.”

“That’s why you yelled at me? I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No,” I say truthfully for the first time. “I’m just angry. I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Maybe next time try telling me though. I was actually scared I did something until I heard you cry in the shower.”

I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I tell him that, to which he only chuckles.

“You know how many times I acted hostile towards you after a long day?” he says. “It happens. It’s okay.”

“I just… I’m so stressed all the time. I hate work and I hate people and I hate not getting paid enough or on time, but I can’t quit because you know, I’m me and they know that, so they take advantage of my inability to say no, and it sucks because I’m so tired of working more than I go to school, but I need the money, and so I can’t leave until I’ve found another job, but no one else wants me, so now I’m here, trying to see the good in this stupid job, but I don’t. I can’t. I hate it. I hate everything and everyone and I hate myself and I think I’ll get my period soon because this should not be upsetting me this much.”

His hand on my back manages to soothe me.

“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.

He smiles down at me, all loopy, and his sightless eyes are focused somewhere on my forehead, which makes everything so much better.

“I love you.”

And yes, I love him too. I love him so fucking much, it hurts.

“I love you too, Matty.”

As soon as I say his name, he knows what I want. He knows I need to destress. He knows I can’t eat until I can forget.

“Is there something I can do?” he asks, but damn him, he already knows.

“Can you…” no, I can’t ask him for that.

“Yes?”

“Matt, can…” No. “You know what, never mind.”

“No, sweetheart. Tell me. What do you need?”

“I just…” my chest heaves a frustrated groan. “IneedyoutoeatmeoutuntilIcantremembermyname.”

He enjoys it. He gets off on it, my desperation. “Sorry, what?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t think I did. Can you repeat that?”

“God.” My face is burning.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, this is the first time you actually asked me and I love hearing you ask for the things you want. It’s sexy.”

Somehow, that’s even worse. My thighs clench like I’m some pathetic little schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher.

“You know, maybe you can ask for a raise tomorrow, or quit altogether,” he says. “But for that to work, you have to tell me what you want right now.”

“I asked you to eat me out until I can’t remember my fucking name!”

“Thank you. Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

If there is one thing Matt Murdock is incredibly skilled with, it’s his mouth. And I don’t just mean the words that come out. Essentially, it’s all in his tongue. He’s managed to render me speechless on more than one occasion, and he knows. He knows I love when he touches me, but there are times when it has to be about me, and only me, and he’d gladly suffocate between my thighs. He’s told me that time and time again.

He keeps telling me to ask him if I want something. I never do. I hate asking for it because it’s embarrassing. It’s good that he knows what he’s doing, that bastard because if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be cumming and I wouldn’t tell him. Somehow he always gets the job done, no matter how stressed I am.

That’s why I need it so badly. I need him to take care of me, no matter how long it takes. I know it might take a while because I’m tense and he knows too. He reads my body like an open book. That’s how he knows I’m horny before I even do.

He doesn’t move for another minute. He just stares at me. “You want me to take care of you?” he asks.

“Please,” I beg.

“Guess I’ll have dessert before dinner today then.”

He lifts my head and then he’s suddenly on top of me. He’s sliding me up the couch so he can fit in between my legs. I’m dressed in shorts, a t-shirt, and his sweater and for a second I wonder if it’s even worth it. I’m ovulating, I’m bloated. I feel like shit. My hormones are all messed up. I can feel the weight of my boobs tear on my back and I’m pretty sure the hairs on my legs prickle his cheek as he kisses them. It’s making me want to take back everything I asked of him.

My confidence has taken a low blow this past week.

Though Matt doesn’t care, he never does. He digs his nose between my thighs and takes the longest whiff I’ve seen him take in a while. To be fair, the last time we saw each other, he was busy with work. We didn’t have time for intimacy, which hardly ever happens. He moans.

Smug bastard.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells me. It melts my heart. The compliment means so much more knowing he can’t physically see me. To him, I’m beautiful. He couldn’t care less about what I looked like. Although sometimes I wonder what picture he has made up of me in his mind.

His lips are on mine fast. I can’t help but sigh. They’re so soft. He doesn’t rush, he just kisses me and then kisses me some more. I tangle my hands in his hair. I’m sure, this is what heaven must be like.

“Let’s take this off.” His sweater joins my shorts on the floor. “May I?” He hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of my panties. “Or do you want me to keep them on?”

I have no doubt he could do it with five layers in between and still make me cum.

“Off,” I say. I want this. I have to remind myself that my insecurities mean nothing – he loves me. He wants to do this for me. He wants to do this because he likes it, or else he would say it.

Matt is vocal, but I’m not. If he doesn’t want to do something, he’ll say. Can’t say the same about me, which is why he asks repeatedly, even after I already told him it’s okay. He wants to make sure I’m on board, that I don’t feel pressured and can pull out any time I want, but I don’t, because the second the cold air hits my bare cunt, all I want is him.

I can feel his eyes searching for me. “Hey,” he says my name. “We’re not playing this time, okay? You can cum when you need to and how many times you want to. You just have to lay back and relax. I’ll take care of you.”

He intertwines our fingers on either side of my spread thighs before he dives into me. It’s slow and steady. He doesn’t care about fucking me with his tongue like he usually does. He licks and bites, but mostly, his tongue and lips stay around my clit and they suck. They suck so good, I see stars behind my eyes. His touch sends shocks down my spine. My sensitive walls clench around thin air, but his head is so far between my thighs, I still manage to feel full.

But no matter how hard I try, I can’t focus. It feels so good, way too good, and on any other day, I would’ve come by now. His beard burns into the inside of my thigh as I rock against him. I try to, but it’s exhausting. I can feel the coil in my lower belly clear as day, and yet it’s too far out of reach. I need it, I crave it.

I can hear myself saying, “This could take a while.” And he laughs because he finds it funny. It’s not funny though, it’s serious. I hate the fact that he makes me feel so good and I can’t find it in myself to enjoy.

“Close your eyes,” his breath fans hot against my folds. “And just stop thinking.”

He makes it his mission to ruin me. I close my eyes and as soon as I do, he’s on me. It’s not just his mouth. One of our joined hands reaches up to touch my breast – he twists my nipple through the shirt until it’s hard and has his attention. The other reaches behind me and lifts my hips. The next thing I know, he has me propped up on a pillow. The muscles in my lower back relax. I sigh. It’s so good.

He’s given up on slow and steady. His head moves in circles as he abuses – I don’t have another word for it – my clit and eats the rest of me like a man starved. I realize I need it fast and I need it hard. He knows it before I do. His tongue expertly parts my wet folds, a mix of arousal and spit trickling down my thighs, but I could care less. He’s inside of me and then his thumb is there and it’s rubbing and rubbing and rubbing and I’m so fucking close, the knot in my stomach feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, and it’s applying sweet, sweet pressure on cunt.

“Fuck!” I throw my head back into the leather. My back arches impossibly high, and his head squished tightly between my thighs. I need him closer. His hair is so soft, it makes me want to cry, and I do. I cry, but not in a sad way. I cry out because yes, God yes! and then I’m cumming, suddenly and without warning, hard, all over his face, and it doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop.

The growl is animalistic. It vibrates perfectly through my pussy and I can’t help it – it barely takes two minutes until his lips start hurting so good as they keep sucking my clit, a series of ‘one more’ leaves his lips in a plea, and I’m rocking against him hard. I’m begging him, “Matt,” but I’m not sure what for.

“C’mon,” he says, “you can give me one more.”

He’s right. God, I hate when he’s right. My toes curl and I push his face so deep into me, I’m convinced he’s running out of air, but that’s what makes him moan and it sends me over the edge.

I’m pretty sure I passed out. The pleasure is so intense, my stomach feels like it’s being torn apart and then put back together. The world is dark and for the first time today, quiet.

Something nudges my cheek softly. It’s his hand. Matt kisses me and I can taste myself on his lips. “Hey,” he coaxes me back into lucidity. “There you are. Are you okay?”

I nod.

“You need anything?”

It’s a reflex, reaching for him. He gasps slightly when my hand touches between his thighs, expecting to find a visible bulge, but there is none. I’m not sure if it’s my mind playing tricks on me, but there is a visible wet spot where his dick is supposed to be.

“Did you-“ I finally open my eyes. He looks so drunk in the candlelight. I realize then that he is drunk on me.

He buries his head in my neck. “You’re not the only one who’s been worked up all week,” he says.

“You just- oh, my God.” I never thought it possible that it could be enough for him. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. You’re always so good to me. Good girl. But I think-“ his finger steals my breath as it circles my entrance and promptly slips it inside of me. “You can cum for me again.”

I arch into him. My chest brushes against his. Our shirts suddenly feel like too much clothing and I’m desperate, so I tear at the buttons until they come apart. He has his arm back underneath me, holding me flush against him as if he’s afraid I might slip away.

A wanton moan escapes me. “That’s it,” and his praise is even better. “Think you can take another one?”

He adds a second finger. It burns but only because even after a year, I’m still struggling to take any part of him. His fingers are thick and they’re rough and they’re scratching my inside walls just right. They massage the flesh. He’s pumping his fingers in and out and in and out, and he adds his thumb back on my clit because he knows I won’t be able to cum without it.

All of the stress falls off my shoulders. I feel him everywhere, his kisses, his touch, his hard nipples against mine. He’s hard again, poking against my thigh. I reach for him and he whines, he whines into my mouth. I’m not sure which one of us will come first. I suppose it’s me, it’s always me. He makes sure it will be me.

He hits as deep as he possibly could. His fingers curl inside of me and then, “There it is!” Is so victorious, it makes my eyes roll back. He keeps hitting that particular spot over and over again. My hand clutches his shoulder. I want to scream, but all that comes out is a series of whined and pathetic moans. I can’t help it, my muscles contract around him.

“Damn, you’re gonna break my fingers,” he says. His chuckle is breathless. “You close?”

I hum.

“Do me a favor,” and I expect him to tell me anything but what he requests, “Don’t cum.”

It’s rude. It’s cruel and it’s vile and I want to murder him because just as he says it, the coil tightens impossibly tight and I need to let go. It’s painful to hold it in, especially now. But I do as he tells me nonetheless. I want to please him.

“Matt,” I moan. He’s so unfair and he knows it.

He smirks. “Just hold on a little longer.”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can. I know you can.”

“St- oh, fuck!” He hits my sweet spot with twice the intensity. I almost cum, but only almost. I keep it together, no matter how much it hurts, and it’s making tears prick at my eyes. “Please, just let me cum,” I hate begging him. “Please, Matty.”

“Shhh. We’re almost there.”

His thumb speeds up. I can see heaven. God is reaching his hand out for me. My stomach is in a tight knot, so tight, the silk might rip any second. The pressure is unreal. My muscles have been trained by him, I admit, but nothing can prepare you for this. Nothing can prepare you for the times when Matt has his mind set on something and he’s going to take it. He’s going to take you.

I can’t think. It’s too much. I know I’m going to disappoint him. The animal inside of me is beyond satisfied and she wants out. She wants to let go. She loves the feeling of his fingers buried to the hilt inside of her. She loves him, and loving him tends to turn into sweet, sweet torture.

I moan his name again. His cock twitches underneath his dress pants, hot against my fingertips.

“Almost,” he promises. “I just want to try something.”

What could he possibly want to-

“Cum.”

I’m flying. My back lifts off the couch and if it wasn’t for him, I would be dead by now. My body is shaking. It’s earth-shattering and it’s wet and it’s everywhere. I can feel the orgasm tearing me apart from the inside, blood rushing in my ears. My senses go black. I can’t see, feel or breathe. Everything is too much. It’s burning, it’s heavy, but it’s amazing.

His fingers don’t stop until he has milked the last drop of me until even the last ounce of stress has left my body and I’m limp. I’m a corpse. I’m barely breathing, a wet sack of potatoes in his arms.

God, the look on his face. He’s cumming too. The wet patch on his pants has doubled. It’s not from me, although I’m suddenly very aware of the fact of what he just made me do.

“Oh.”

“Fuck,” he growls. “That was amazing.”

I never expected to have it in myself. “Oh, Jesus.” My words are highly blasphemous but I don’t care. I’m not even sure how to feel. The blush creeps up my cheeks and I close my legs a little. Everything is so wet. It’s all me and some of him, but mostly me. Just spurts of cum all over his hand and his couch.

He clicks his tongue, shoving my thighs apart. “Don’t go shy on me now,” he says.

“No, it’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? Sweetheart, I’ve never felt more proud of myself.”

“I just- your couch. Oh, God.”

“I’m pretty sure the couch will survive it. Leather is easier to clean. How do you feel?”

I sigh, snuggling against his chest. “Better,” I have to admit. “Much, much better.”

“Good.” He kisses my neck. “Can I have my fingers back now?”

“No.” I like the feeling of him inside of me, even if it’s just his fingers. It makes me feel complete, almost.

“Okay.”

“Just gonna rest my eyes now.”

“You do that, sweetie. I’ll be here.”

And he is. He always is. I wake up, and he’s there, and he always will be because he promised me this is forever. Us. Me and him. And I realize then that I’ve never been more in love with another person than I am in love with Matt Murdock.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x afab!reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil smut #smut #fluff #matt murdock angst #hurt/comfort #stress relief #I hate customer service with a passion #I also hate retail #I hate work in general #Matt Murdock rail me challenge

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daimyosprincess · 8 months

Text

AN HONEST DAY'S WORK

—PAIRING: Contractor!Boba Fett x F!Reader

—SUMMARY: You have a very special project you want your parents’ contractor, Boba Fett, to work on.

—WORD COUNT: 9k

—RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, contractor!Boba, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is an adult), reader described as having hair, Boba is a dirty old man and doesn’t mind saying so 😈, likely an excessive use of pet names by yours truly, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl), squirting, cum eating, soft Boba 🥹, mentions of a shitty ex

Please let me know if I missed anything!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you @baufraus for slapping a tool belt on that old man, you’re doing the lord’s work 😌 Enjoy besties 💖

Divider by the @saradika

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

What a pleasant thing to be woken up by your alarm, you think, stretching out in a luxurious full body stretch under your flowery covers. After a month and a half of what felt like constant construction right outside your window, waking to your buzzing alarm was a welcome relief from the jagged sounds of powertools and hard machinery.

While you love your parents dearly, their desire to turn the backyard of your childhood home into a suburban oasis has been a less than pleasant experience for you. They certainly deserved to enjoy their retirement after putting you and your siblings through school, but the necessity of such renovations during your last year of your masters was dubious to you at best.

All in all though, you can’t complain. You live in their spacious, boomer-bought house rent-free and enjoy a home-cooked meal every night; you have your mom to dote on you when you get sick and your dad to defrost your car in the cold winter mornings. Even with the long hours of inescapable noise and constant stream of people in and around the house, you’re grateful to be there. And, if you’re completely honest, you’re also extremely grateful for the unexpected front row seat to watch the handsome contractor heading the whole operation.

Boba Fett hasn’t left your thoughts since the day he arrived at your front door dressed in khaki cargo pants, a form fitting t-shirt, and a tool belt slung low across his hips. His perfect white smile and smoldering dark eyes left you speechless then and have continued to bedevil you ever since, winding your insides (and panties) into knots. The fact that he’s somehow a perfect gentleman to you while simultaneously being the most incorrigible flirt that ever lived hasn’t helped in the least. Between his sparkling winks, dazzling smile, and delicious voice calling you “princess” and “sweetheart,” you haven’t known a moment’s peace—even when the crew finally went home in the evenings.

It’s all enough to drive you totally insane.

Lucky for him, however, it hasn’t. Staring up at the familiar ceiling above you, you smile: today is the day you will finally have your revenge. The contractor had teased and poked at you for weeks and you’d been powerless to do anything more than glower and huff at him due to the constant company of your parents and his crew. But now you have him all to yourself for an entire day with the house to yourself and his workers off—and you have no intention of showing him any mercy.

It’s been nearly two years since you’ve had anything close to what one could consider “action.” Between school and your research fellowship, you haven’t had any time to go to parties or bars or wherever adults are supposed to meet people to do it with. No, for two long years, it has been you and your vibrator against the world.

Boba Fett is going to fix that.

After a quick shower and a punched-up version of your morning routine, you’re almost ready to set your plan into motion. Flicking through your closet, you decide on your favorite floral sundress with a pair of cute sandals. Now dressed, you smooth your hands down the light fabric, smiling at your reflection in the mirror; you look sweet enough to eat. And lick. And suck. And-

Heat flares in your belly at the thought of Boba’s large, work-rough hands pulling up the hem of your dress to kiss up your soft thighs, his tongue spelling out all the dirty, awful things he wants to do to you in your parents’ own home… his lips wrapping around that desperate, aching spot between your legs and making that burning need finally go away in an explosion of pent-up pleasure.

Fuck. You bite down hard on your lip to stop from hopping back beneath your covers and touching yourself to the rest of that particular fantasy. The only thing that keeps you from sneaking in a quickie with your hand clamped over your mouth so his name doesn’t spill out is the chance to have him do all those things to you for real.

Taking a deep breath, you push away your lewd imaginings and check your phone. You have just enough time to grab your books and position yourself on the deck before Boba arrives to finish whatever project your parents told you about. Railings? Pool pump? Painting? Doesn’t matter.

With one last check in the mirror, you hurry towards your bedroom door only to stop short a second later. Before you can think better of it, you snatch down your panties and toss them over your shoulder with a grin.

Chancing a glance over the top of your unread book, you spy Boba leaning across a board and marking it with a flat drafting pencil. The suggestive slant of his hips and the sheen of perspiration on his brow made a slew of very suggestive images flood your brain. Was it possible to be attracted to the way someone clenches their jaw?

Boba had to be showing off. There’s simply no explanation for why he needed to carry that much lumber on his shoulder or measure that many things high enough for his gray t-shirt to ride up and reveal a tempting peek at the dark trail of hair leading into his jeans. And since when did there need to be so much drilling? He is sorely beating you at your own game, and that simply would not do—not when you need him so bad you’re scheming and panty-less in your parents’ backyard.

“See something you like, princess?”

Kark. Shaking your head, you blink your eyes like you’ve been caught deep into your reading. “Oh, sorry, did you say something?”

He straightens, arching a brow as he dusts himself off. As you follow his hands across his strong torso and thighs you realize too late that your eyes have wandered to his crotch. Smirking, Boba runs a palm over his face to wipe away the sweat there. “Never mind that,” he chuckles, “Could I interrupt your ‘study session’ for something to drink?”

The audacity of this man! Scoffing at your (admittedly weak) attempt at school work like he hasn’t been putting on a show himself for the past hour and a half.

You’re not going to let yourself be beat at your own game. Plastering on a big smile, you answer in a honey-sweet voice. “Actually, my mom made some sandwiches and lemonade since you had to come by on your day off. Why don’t you freshen up and take a seat over here,” you motion to the couch across from you, “and I’ll be out with lunch in a couple minutes.”

Boba watches with an amused smile as you trot past him into the cool of the house, taking your unspoken invitation to stare at your ass as you do so. When you re-emerge a few minutes later with the promised food and drink, he’s spread out over the couch with a fresh shirt on and looking every bit as regal as a king on a throne. You suppose it’s only fitting that he calls you his princess when he thanks you for bringing out the meal.

Picking up a sandwich, Boba nods to your stack of readings on the side table. “Lot of books you got there, princess. What are you in school for?”

You’re ready to give him some giggly, flippant reply but the genuine look of interest on his face stops you. For a stricken second you’re tongue tied by the thought of your parents’ hot contractor being genuinely interested in you as a person. Shimmering, unbidden fantasies float through your mind of Boba pulling out your chair for you on a date, the two of you sitting around a bonfire with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, him kissing the top of your head as he leaves for work in the morning. The images curl through the heat of your desire for him, mixing with the safe warmth and happiness he brings you.

Maybe…

You quickly scramble to answer before your imagination can run rampant and put dangerous thoughts of something more with him into your head.

“Speech-language pathology and therapy. Originally I was doing special education but then I really enjoyed my communicative disorders class, so my professor helped me apply to an internship program that convinced me to change my concentration. I even got into the fellowship program in the speech lab at St. Mary’s this semester and-”

You look up to see Boba staring at you so fondly that it makes your chest ache and your words evaporate into flushed smoke. “Oh, u-um, sorry, you probably didn’t want to hear all that… basically, I’m studying ways to help people speak easier.” You take a long sip of lemonade to avoid saying anything else, mentally kicking yourself to get it together. You have a plan and you need to stick to it, no matter how tingly and fuzzy he makes your heart feel.

The couch creaks as Boba shifts forward to rest his forearms on his knees so he can meet your downcast eyes. “Hey… never apologize for your passion. Not many people have what you have, or the drive to go after it. That’s something to be proud of, sweetheart.”

That same warm, shimmery feeling from before returns and you smile at him. “Thanks,” you murmur, wondering if it’s normal for his tenderness to make you want to get in his pants even more. You don’t care either way. Clearing your throat, you roll back your shoulders and lean back against the plump cushions. “Well I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got any more, uh, “measuring” to do.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he winks.

“Right.” He nods to his cleared plate. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Of course,” you assure him, “gotta make sure you keep your strength up for any… activities you might get up to.”

Boba laughs rich and deep as he pushes up from the couch. “You really are too good to me, princess.”

If only he knew just how good I can be.

The following hour passes in pleasant, if sexually charged, silence as both of you vie to make the other crack first. When he lifts the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his face, revealing the thick wall of muscle and softer belly underneath, you finally decide enough is enough. If he’s playing dirty, you will too.

Reaching your arms above your head, you stretch and let out a suggestive groan that has Boba’s head snapping towards you. Of course, you pretend you don’t notice and continue your stretch, leisurely easing out your legs to their full length. With his eyes boring into you, you purposefully slide your knees up the couch cushions so the hem of your flowy dress rides dangerously high up your thighs. You can physically feel the tables turning in your favor, upper hand slipping from him to you in this one powerful, heady moment.

Tilting your head back to meet his burning gaze, you savor the feeling, watching through your lashes as his breath stutters in his chest. Then, taking your lip between your teeth, you slowly open your thighs, one, then the other, to reveal the glistening folds hidden between them.

For a brief second, it seems like he’s going to snap the board in his hands with the way his muscles strain against his shirt. When you moan a quiet little sound as you stretch again, he slams the wood down and stalks over you with his fists clenching.

Blinking up at him with siren eyes, you give him a sultry smile. “See something you like, handsome?” you mimic, reaching out to drag your fingers down his arm.

He snatches up your hand in a tight grip. “Careful, princess,” Boba warns in a low, scraped voice. “Think very carefully about-”

Before you can chicken out, you flip the front of your dress above your waist with your free hand. “About this?”

Boba sucks in a sharp breath and stares for a long second, the muscles in his jaw working in tight feathers before he yanks your dress back down over your legs. “Sweetheart, I’m serious,” he shuts his eyes and exhales heavily. “Think about what you’re offering.”

As if you haven’t thought about this very thing for weeks on end, writhing and panting to the thought of Boba Fett doing every dirty thing to you that you could come up with. No, if anything, you need to stop thinking and start feeling everything your wicked thoughts had conjured up about this man.

“Boba, please,” you whine, the feel of his hand on your skin making your voice desperate, “I’m sure, I’m so, so sure I swear.” His grip tightens and you can sense he’s waiting to hear for something more concrete. “I’ve thought about you every day, every night… I want you, Boba. Please.”

“Fuck, sweetheart…” His skin burns against yours and he curses again, dropping your wrist and coming to his knees in front of you. “Tell me then,” he grunts, bracing himself between your thighs, “tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

Pure, molten want burns in his eyes, igniting the desperate tinder of your desire. What didn’t you want him to do? You’ve dreamed about him taking you every possible way in every possible place, groaning your name and screwing you senseless. What could you say when you want everything he’ll give you?

Luckily, your tongue has the answer your brain does not. “Kiss me,” you gasp, “Please kriffing kiss me.”

And like he’d been waiting his entire life to hear you say those very words, he’s on you, pushing you back against the pillows and crashing his perfect lips against yours in a scorching fury. Your body welcomes his intensity, instinctually shaping itself around his strong hips and wide shoulders as you claw at him to get closer. Fuck, you’re already greedy for him, your skin thirsting for his and your pussy soaking your dress beneath it.

“W-wait,” you gasp, hating the way he immediately recoils even as you appreciate his caution. You don’t want to give Boba any reason to stop but you don’t want to embarrass yourself in the heat of things either. “I’ve never, um, well… I’ve never had… never with someone else.” You wince; your words sound even worse than they did tripping through your head. Anxiety pricks your heated skin—you want to bury yourself into his shirt and hide there forever.

Why did you bring this up? You should’ve just gone with it like before.

When he speaks, Boba’s voice is the softest it’s ever been. “Princess, baby, look at me.” He rolls the both of you up to a sitting position, giving you just enough space to pull away if you needed to while still being close. Gently taking one of your clenched fists into his large hand, he smooths your fingers out, rubbing soothing circles into your palm with his thumb.

You sneak a peek at him. Gone is the hot fervor of passion that previously colored his features; now he’s a softer shade that beckons you into his comfort.

“There she is,” he smiles, rewarding you with his own when you force your face up to his. The urgent tear of worry in your chest eases and you melt into his side. “Now, how about you tell me what’s bothering you, hmm?”

“Really, it’s nothing,” you try, knowing it won’t work as soon as you say it. All you want to do is go back to him kissing the air out of your lungs and to have his fingers brushing over your soaked slit, but Boba isn’t going to let you off the hook.

Damn him and his honorable ways.

Boba sighs and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Nice try, sweetheart.” He lays his cheek on top of your head and wraps an arm around your shoulders, giving you a comforting squeeze. “Listen, if all this is happening too fast, if you want to stop here, we can. I won’t be mad, baby. Your first time should be with someone special, and if that’s not me then that’s alright.”

First time? Realization dawns on you a second later and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from your belly. Giggling, you arch up and give the confused man next to you a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you, Boba, really. But that’s not what I meant.” A new kind of nervousness pools in your gut now, one that swirls with hot anticipation rather than cold dread.

Grabbing his free hand for support, you look into the warm depth of his eyes as his fingers curl around yours. “What I was trying to say was that… well, that no one else has ever made me come before. I’ve made myself come plenty of times but,” yikes, did you have to say that?, “I’ve only been with one other guy and he never made me… I mean, I got close one time but he never actually made me finish.”

The concerned look on Boba’s face melts into a glorious laugh that rumbles your chest. Before you know it, you’re both laughing and kissing in between delighted gasps for air. A bright sense of joy permeates every cell in your body and you tuck it safely inside your heart. If this was your first time, you know that you’d want it to be with him. Maybe you’ll pretend this is your first time.

“Oh, sweetheart, is that what you’re worried about?” he finally sighs, his warm breath tickling your neck. You nod against him.

In one quick motion, Boba scoops you up into his lap, wrapping his arms around you to grab your ass through your dress. “Are you worried that I won’t be able to make you scream and shake when I lick and stroke your perfect little pussy? Hmm?” He groans into your ear when you shiver against him. “Babygirl, don’t you worry one bit. I’m gonna take care of you, I’m gonna make you feel so amazing you’re not going to be able to sit out here ever again without remembering how I made you cry with how good it feels.”

This time, you’re the one who slams your lips against his, stealing whatever dark, sweet words he had left from his tongue. You mewl into his open mouth as he rocks your bare core over the thick denim straining over his erection. The seam of his jeans catches your clit perfectly and you would have cried out loud enough for the neighbors three houses down to hear if Boba hadn’t held your face against his.

“Easy there, beautiful,” Boba chuckles, “we don’t need everyone knowing what we’re up to, not till we’re done anyways, yeah?” You hum in agreement and bury your face into his shoulder, inhaling his clean smell and the surprisingly attractive scent of a day’s work clinging to his skin. “Now, tell me about this boy before, did he make you feel good? Make you want to flash your bare cunt to him and beg him to take you where anyone could walk around and see?”

Your crappy college boyfriend never made you want anything remotely like what Boba’s saying. The only thing he ever made you want was for him to hurry up so you could go in the bathroom and finish yourself off. He had been nice enough, but, nice enough didn’t make your eyes cross and pussy wet. “He never, shit, he never…” you gasp as Boba grinds you harder against himself, “I had to beg him to eat me out and even then he complained about it every time.”

“Complained? Kark, princess, tasting you is all I’ve been able to think about for a month. In fact,” Boba grins wickedly, “I’d like to solve that problem right now, with your permission, of course.” His tongue flicks out to wet his lips like he’s preparing to enjoy the best meal of his life.

You can’t give him your permission fast enough.

Reaching behind his back, Boba tosses one of the decorative pillows from the couch onto the deck and slides down to kneel on it in front of you. “Why don’t you hand me another one of those,” he flashes you a smile and a wink, “My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

“They didn’t seem to be a problem when you were putting on a show for me earlier,” you snark back, rolling your eyes for extra effect. “I hardly got any reading done with your whole construction worker performance going on.”

Boba tosses his head back and laughs a deep belly laugh that makes you glow for being its source. Grabbing your hips, he yanks you to the edge of the couch, making you squeal. “Now I think we both know you never had any intention of studying when you planted your cute little ass on this couch.” He leans in, inching your dress up so he can brush his lips over the ticklish skin just above your knees.

“Wh-What are you talking about?” Your lashes flutter shut and you dig your nails into the cushions to keep your composure as Boba begins to pepper kisses up your thighs while his hands massaged what his mouth wasn’t on. “I h-have all my stuff out here, see?”

Of course, your handsome contractor is exactly right but you’re not going to admit that.

Licking a stripe mere centimeters from where you want him most, Boba huffs a laugh into your damp skin. “All props, sweetheart. Your dress and flirty little smile gave it all away.” His hands travel to the back of your hips where he spreads them wide so you arch against him, bringing the top of your pelvic bone right to his mouth. “Though really, the fact you didn’t turn a single page the entire time you were out here would have clued me in regardless.”

Boba’s words feel like they’re coming through a wall of thick molasses, heavy and sweet as they are to your ears. All you can focus on is the heat of his breath whispering across the wetness he caused and how his lips feel ghosting against your soft flesh as he speaks. Kark, how are you supposed to think with him like this, kneeling for the very opportunity to put his mouth where you’ve dreamed it would be so many times? All that time trembling, aching, yearning for him and he was finally yours—at least for now—and you’re going to enjoy every second of it.

You bunch up the material of your dress in a fist and force your hazy eyes to focus on him. “Either way, it got me what I truly wanted,” you smile affectionately, “You.”

An emotion flashes across Boba’s sun-bronzed face so quickly it feels like a secret to have seen it, something deep and tender, petal-soft and just as vulnerable. Something words couldn’t quite express and certainly not something he wanted to be seen. It made him feel so frighteningly human that you want to bury him in your chest and murmur all lovely things he makes you feel until he feels safe enough to let that emotion out of its closely guarded cage.

A second later, however, his usual cocksure expression is back in place. “Aw, you’re sweet to flatter an old man. Now how about you sit up on those knees so I can taste every inch of your pretty pussy?”

You couldn’t have refused his request even if it wasn’t the hottest thing you ever heard, not with the way you’re so agonizingly ready that you’re literally dripping with arousal. “Boba, please. Need your-ooohh!” A searing shock of pleasure ricochets up your spine as his tongue swipes through the web of slick pooled in your slit.

Your intense reaction spurs Boba on and he immediately dives into your core, jamming his face between your legs and groaning loudly as he inhales your scent. “Sweet as fucking cherry pie, baby. Shit, come here,” he growls, yanking you down so nearly your full weight is on his face. “I want you down my damn throat, you’re so delicious. Better than anything I’ve ever had.”

You wish you could open your scrunched eyes to see the expression that matches his blissed out tone, but it’s impossible with the way his tongue is flicking through folds as he sucks up every drop of your slick like he needs it to live. Heat pumps through your veins, lighting you up until you’re sure you could replace the sun. In less than thirty seconds, Boba has made you feel more beautiful, more cherished than you ever felt in your entire life.

As your knees begin to buckle from the luscious intensity of his mouth, Boba tosses your right leg over his shoulder, balancing you across his face and giving him the perfect opportunity to flatten his tongue against your clit. You have to slap a hand across your mouth to keep from screaming when he starts a pace that has you riding his face with fervent abandon, your hand dropping your dress to clutch at the back of his skull for more pressure.

Boba moans and scrapes his teeth over your clit, making you squeal and jolt at the sharp sensation. “Fucking hell, girl, you really are dirty, aren’t you? I never should have waited to get my mouth on you. Lay down for me, I wanna feel that tight cunt squeezing my fingers while you make a mess on my face.”

As much as you don’t want to part with his mouth, the temptation to feel him stretching you out on his thick fingers, stroking all the places your own can’t reach, is too great to resist. Scrambling back onto the couch, you tuck yourself into the corner to give him the maximum amount of access to your trembling body.

Boba grins up at you, his face up to his eyes shiny with your slick. “Howya feeling, sweetheart? Ready for me to make you see stars?”

In response, you just toss the fabric of your dress over your shoulder and roll your hips forward.

Boba was a man of his word, bringing you to the edge of orgasm once with mouth and hands then once more with his cock as took you from behind—you’re in actual tears with how good every single one of his movements feel. Every drag of his cock is pure pleasure, every touch of his hands delicious delight, and every kiss is incandescent bliss. You’re never going to be the same again.

“Oh, my filthy little girl,” he taunts, grabbing a handful of your tits as he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, “what would your parents think, hmm? What would they do if they knew you let an old man bend you over the table they’ll eat off of? That you’re bouncing on his dick and begging him for more on their couch?”

“Oh, fuck! Boba!” A wave of liquid arousal floods your core, make the sound of him fucking into you even wetter.

“Yeah? You like it when I talk like that, sweetheart? You like knowing that I’m going to own every part of you then send you back to them with a smile on my face and your cum leaking down my cock?”

Every single one of his sex-stained words sear into your skin, going straight to your throbbing clit. Every beat of your pounding heart brings you closer and closer to the bright brink of orgasm, every roll of his hips thrusting his length into that perfect spot inside you. Fuck he’s going to make me come if he keeps… fuck!

“Kark, baby, I can feel you squeezing me with that perfect tight cunt. Shit, you’re so-”

You can’t take it anymore. Falling forward onto his heaving chest, you dig your nails into the thick muscle there and start grinding your aching clit against him like some feral animal chasing their heat.

Faster, harder, faster, fuck! Just like that, juuuust like that and you’ll feel that perfect fucking release, just a little more and…

Boba stills his bucking hips and halts your rocking.

You howl, clawing at his unmoving body. “No, please!” you sob, “I’m so close, please don’t stop now!”

Boba shushes you with the press of his mouth. “Shh, you’ll get what you want, baby, I promise you. But if I'm gonna be the first man to make you come, I’m gonna make it much more memorable than that was going to be.”

The thought of anything more than the building pleasure thrashing in core was unimaginable. How on earth could it be better than him balls deep inside you hitting your g-spot like it’s what he was made for? Never in your wildest dreams had you felt this good, even when you had hours alone to tease yourself before riding out the wave of your orgasm. If there was anything greater than this pleasure you’re not sure you would survive it—not with your mind intact, anyways.

Sliding his hands under your slicked thighs, Boba swings his legs off the couch and stands with a huff, keeping himself sheathed inside you. You grind into the fabric of his shirt until gives your ass a firm swat and you a stern warning to behave, which you’re too desperate to test. He walks the pair of you over to the large, oak table and plops you on top of it. The rich grain is supple and smooth on your bare skin, and Boba eases your back flat against it as he kisses and gropes across your body.

“Alright, princess,” he pulls away slightly to rest his damp forehead on yours, “I need you to do something for me, okay?”

Brushing your hands down his neck and shoulders, you’d promise him anything he asked. “O-okay, Boba.”

He peppers a few kisses on your tear-stained cheeks before continuing, letting his hips rut into you at an agonizingly slow pace. “When I tell you to, I want you to release all your muscles and completely let go. Don’t hold anything in, alright, babygirl?”

You’re not sure where he’s leading you but you have complete faith in the fact that it’s going to be mind blowing. You give him your affirmation and he presses a small kiss on your lips.

“Good. Now start playing with those perfect fucking tits, give me a good show.”

You’re in such a hurry to comply that you get frustrated by the straps of your dress and bra, to which Boba chuckles and makes quick work of them, dragging the material down until your chest was bared for his mouth to claim. He curses when you press the soft flesh of your breasts together, moaning when your fingers brush over your pert nipples. For a minute he just watches you revel in the pleasure of your own hands, fucking yourself shallowly on him as you pluck and caress the sensitive skin beneath your fingers.

Boba is a man entranced, his dark eyes glassy with want. Under his reverential gaze, you feel so desired, so utterly divine, like you’re his own personal goddess—he stares down at you as your most pious devotee who longs for nothing more than to feel the blessing of your body and the joy of your bliss.

“Boba…” you whisper duskily. He leans into your outstretched hand and you pull him into your arms with a crushing kiss.

As if he can read exactly what you need, he hikes your leg over his hip and begins a pace of snapping thrusts that has your entire body bouncing with their bruising force. “Pretty baby, precious girl, I’m going to make you feel so fucking good,” he pants into your neck, pressing his lips there to taste the salt of your skin, “Been dying to take care of you like this, sweetheart. Watching you work so hard, leaving early and coming back late… you’re such a good little girl, aren’t you?”

With the way he’s hitting every single sweet spot that makes you feel like a woman, all you can manage is a breathy affirmative and a few warbling words. “Y-yes, Boba, w-wanted you s-so bad. Thought-thought about you every n-night. Ohhhh fuck!”

Boba lifts your hips and guides your legs to lock around him, giving him a mind-shattering angle as he drives into your wet heat. After swallowing down your cries of pleasure with a searing kiss, he wraps his large hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he continues.

“So loud, aren’t you, princess? No, I like that, I like hearing how good I make you feel, like knowing I’m the only one who has you making these sweet fucking sounds.” Leaning back, he trails his free hand up your calf, letting it follow the curve of your thigh and giving your ass a smack that makes your eyes roll back. “Because I’m the only one who makes you feel like this, the only one who can make this perfect pussy soak and come. You just needed a real man to give you what you needed, huh, sweetheart? Come on, answer me and I’ll make you scream.”

Every nerve in your body is lighting up, every neuron in your brain firing with blinding pleasure. The voice that claws its way from your throat is wrecked and ragged, gasping and begging for more, more, more. The heat and pressure building in your core is volcanic, and you absolutely need it to burn you alive. Only then could you shed the weight of everything that came before and become the beautiful thing Boba is crafting with every sinful word and scalding caress.

“That’s it, just like that, pretty baby,” Boba grunts in praise when you start chasing his thrusts with your own. “Take what you need, what you deserve. Use my cock… I’m all yours, all fucking yours, princess.”

You can’t see him behind your scrunched eyelids, but you can hear the sincerity laced through his words like a shining vein of shimmering gold. The images of him wrapping his arm around you at campfire, settling you into your chair on a date come flashing back, play across your mind with such visceral clarity you could almost reach out and touch them. There was so much warmth to this man, so much untapped softness and care underneath his rough-hewn exterior that you want so karking bad you can taste it hot on your tongue. You want him loving you, fucking you, caring for you every single day from now until forever. Most urgently, however, you want him to mark your very soul with his in an orgasm so intense you leave your body.

“B-boba, Boba, please! I’m so close, I-I want you so bad! Please!” you beg between his fingers over your mouth as your hands paw at his sweat-slicked skin.

“I got you, babygirl, I got you. Come here.” Boba crushes his mouth against yours, licking your taste onto his tongue with a moan. When he finally breaks your kiss, his cheeks are flushed with carnal color and his eyes are glazed with devoted fervor. “Remember what I said before, sweetheart? About letting go, releasing all your muscles?”

You bob your head, biting into your lip to keep your focus on his face.

“Good. I’m going to count down from ten then I want you to do just that, okay? Can you do that for me? Let me hear you say you understand.”

As if you wouldn’t kiss the very ground he walks on with how good he’s making you feel. “I-I understand.”

He beams at you, a diamond drop of sweat rolling down his brow. “That’s my good girl. Now stuff your dress in your mouth because I’m going to make you scream loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.”

Burning ecstasy explodes inside you, snapping your muscles taunt and clamping down on the thick length rocking into you. How can you possibly feel this good, this fucking amazing and you’re not even coming yet? You don’t even remember where you are at this point, only that Boba’s on top of you and his dick’s inside you.

Gagged and bleary-eyed with tears, you arch into his touch when his calloused fingertips find your pulsing clit.

“Ten. Nine. Eight.” Boba’s fingers slide back and forth across your sopping folds with delicious speed, the pressure of his hand singing the glorious feeling into your bones.

“Seven. Six. Five.” His angle changes just slightly so his thrusts aim up towards your belly. Tears run down your temples into your hair and you know you have to be screaming around your spit-soaked dress.

“Four… three…”

Stars begin to explode in cataclysmic bursts of light as everything in your body tightens into a ball of pure energy. If you could think beyond the primal sensation you would worry that you might literally die with how hard your heart is thundering in your chest.

Boba presses a hand on your lower tummy and everything snaps into stark relief: you can feel every cell in your body, every atom of being as all the light inside you floods to core.

“Two…” His voice is sabled sin, luscious smoke dripping onto your burning skin in hot, fat drops. “One. Let go, baby, let go of everything.”

His thrusts, his fingers, his hand pressing into you, everything melts into one caldecent elixir that pours directly into your deepest parts and washes you down to your most tender parts. Then, just when you thought you couldn’t feel anything more, the final dam inside you breaks. Liquid heat washes through you, roaring through your body with all the force of every desire you’ve ever had being met in one singular, perfect moment.

The waves crashing into you feel so real that it feels like you're soaking through your skin into a puddle of your own arousal.

“Oh, fuuuuck, princess, that’s it…” Boba’s voice strains through clenched teeth and torrid control, the last shreds clinging just barely to his skin. “Fuck yes, you’re f-fucking soaking me, I can’t-shit-I c-can’t… baby, princess, beautiful girl…”

Your whole world is so soft and warm and full of him that you can’t think a mortal thought, but you know that you have to see the look on his face as he pants and karking whines as his thrusts dissolve into sloppy rutting. With the last of your remaining strength, you peel your wet lashes apart as you shakily tilt your head up. Everything is blurry and rose-hued, and… wet? You try to blink away the clouds in your vision but the bright sheen coating everything below your waist doesn’t disappear.

Seeing your confusion, Boba breaks out into a devilish grin that turns up his flushed cheeks. “See all this, s-sweetheart? See how much a real man c-can make you come?” he puffs out, breaking your gaze to drop his chin to chest. His brows knit together in concentration as if he’s hanging on the very last sliver of restraint.

You can only watch in downey bliss as he scrapes his hand down your belly to swipe his fingers through the wet rivulets trailing down your thighs, transfixed as he brings them dripping to his swollen lips. When the first finger disappears into his mouth, his eyes roll back and his dick throbs inside your ruined pussy. Realization slams into you watching him lap your juice from his palm like sweet nectar, his arms and shirt damply glinting in the sunlight.

I did that, I made him… holy fucking shit did I-

“Fucking hell, babygirl, I want you to squirt all over me every single kriffing day until I die,” Boba hisses, his wrecked rasp one second away from cracking. “Look like a fucking queen, my queen, lying there s-soaked and gorgeous- aaaahh!”

The revelation that you came so hard on his thick, perfect cock that you blacked out a little and squirted to the point Boba was completely soaked, all on your parents’ dining table makes you sob in pleasure and bare down on him with another blinding orgasm. Your fingernails scrape across the wood grain as you flail mindlessly, your back arching up as your head slams back against the table. This climax isn’t as powerful as the first but it still slings you out into the stars, spinning and tumbling through an aurora of colors and light.

The sudden emptiness of your cunt is replaced by hot ribbons slicing across your belly, pulling you out of the stars and back into your body. You’ve never had anyone come on you before—you had always insisted on a condom with your ex—and it feels impossibly erotic, almost degrading but in the best possible way; not like Boba didn’t care enough about you not to do it but that he was so out of his usually controlled mind with pleasure that he couldn’t help it. Pleasure that you brought him, pleasure he found in you.

You’re reaching for him, desperate to feel his skin, to know that all of this was real, that he wasn’t going to fade away into a dream. Boba leans forward catching himself on the edge of the table while he sucks in breath after shaky breath. He looks so beautiful fucked-out and soft, his usual sharp edges sanded down into a smooth sea glass that reveals a glimpse of his soul.

Eventually he stills and peeks up at you, watching you with adoring brown eyes. He whispers your name, warm and gentle, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. He straightens up and reaches back to pull his t-shirt over his head to mop up your stomach and the liquid pooled between your thighs. His shoulders work in glorious exertion, and you watch in awe at the way his skin ripples with his silent strength.

Finished, he tucks the garment under his arm and eases your dress from your mouth and rearranges it back over your body, murmuring to wait right there. As if you would want to be anywhere other than here with him.

Boba isn’t gone for long, reappearing at your side with a flannel and a water bottle. He’s wearing a white tank top that fits snugly over his broad chest in such a way that it makes you consider seducing him for another around—if you only had the energy to do so. He coos over you, softly instructing you to lift your arms so he can remove your ruined dress. You happily float along, allowing him to undress you and curl you against his chest on the couch with his flannel laid over you for comfort. It smells of him, rich and warm, and he presses the water bottle to your lips. After several greedy gulps, you pull back and tuck your face into his neck, humming with satisfaction.

The two of you doze for a lazy hour, wrapped up in each other while the afternoon breeze pleasantly tinkles the windchimes on the deck.

Eventually, though, you have to break to clean and reclothe yourself. When you amble back outside, Boba has finished wiping down the table with cleaner and a rag from his truck.

“There she is,” he grins, “how’s my pretty princess feeling?”

“Amazing… a little wobbly,” you add truthfully. You’re not sure if your bones will ever fully resolidify after this. Boba opens his arm and you press yourself against him, relishing his touch while you still have it. You don’t want to think about him leaving. “What about you?”

It’s like he can sense your unease and he pulls you closer, placing a kiss into your hair. “Never been better, you were… kriff, you were amazing, baby. Filthy, perfect, wet… and soft, so so soft,” he groans, wrapping his arms around your waist, “like you were made just for me.”

He leans in to kiss you but stops when he sees the sullen look on your face. Cocking a brow, he lifts up your chin on two fingers. “What’s that look for?”

You can’t look at him. This is the part where he says goodbye and things go back to normal, where you part ways and pretend like this never happened. He’d be back day after day to finish the backyard, a sore reminder of what you desperately want but will never have. Why couldn’t you just let this be a fun fuck and let it go? Why did your heart have to ache for his?

“I-” you swallow the warble in your voice. “I, um… I don’t want to hold you up if you have another job or something after this.” You’re a big girl, you don’t need him to stay and prolong the inevitable—better to rip it off quick like a band-aid. You toss your head towards the table. “Thanks for cleaning up.”

Boba studies you silently, a frown shadowing his handsome features. Every second that passes with you in his arms has your resolve weakening more and more; too much longer and you’ll shatter against his chest.

“I don’t have anything after this…” He pauses, mulling over his words for a tense moment before continuing. “Is something wrong? Did I hurt you? Please, sweetheart, talk to me, if there’s anything I can do to-”

“No!” You break free from his embrace, hot tears of frustration beading behind your eyes. The last thing you want to do is hurt him but the longer he stays the more it’s going to tear you apart later. Boba steps back, giving you space and your heart twinges in your chest. “You’ve done nothing wrong, really. It’s just…”

Blowing out a quivering sigh, you force yourself to look him in the eye—he at least deserves that. “It’s just that I don’t like this part, especially with how amazing and wonderful you were. You are. I think it’s just better if we don’t draw this out.” Once again, your eyes drop with the weight of the fast-approaching future.

The following silence is almost unbearably thick, the air congealing to a sodden, soupy haze in your lungs. How could this hurt this much already?

Boba rubs his fingers over his lips thoughtfully, his tan forehead creasing. “Princess… it’s better if we don’t draw ‘what’ out?”

Maker, he is really going to make you say it. No, it wasn’t enough to have made you come so hard you literally soaked the both of you, you have to admit you’re falling for a man twice your age that you’ve known for a month, too. It would be easier to make yourself hate him for that but you can’t bring yourself to confess and do that in the same breath.

Folding your arms over your chest, you force your focus back on his face. “Boba, I… I know this was just for fun and I’m sorry for making this weird but it would be easier for me if we didn’t pretend this isn’t a goodbye. Like I feel nothing for you. Like you won’t show up here tomorrow like you didn’t fuck me right into my soul in my parents’ backyard.” You squeeze your eyes shut, your fingers curling into tight fists. “Please, just go.”

You can hear Boba shift and you crack open an eye to see him looking at you with longing deep enough to drown in. Finally, he says your name in a voice streaked with a vulnerable emotion you’d never seen him display. “Babygirl, I want you to listen to me, okay? I don’t know how that boy treated you before, but this was never a one time thing to me. I’m far too old to lay down with a woman I don’t intend on having by my side the next day, and all the days after that.”

Hope seizes your chest as his words settle into you.

Slowly he moves in front of you, taking your hands in his and gently rubbing them loose like he did before. “Now I’m no poet, sweetheart, I’m just a simple man making his way through life. I can’t make this sound as beautiful as you deserve, but I need you to know that I would never ever do anything to hurt you. I know it’s only been a month but kark, baby, I want you. I want to wake up to you in the mornings and hear your voice when I call you at lunch. I want to bring you tea while you study and make sure you don’t work yourself too hard. Most of all, though, my beautiful girl, I want you to be mine… because I’m already yours.”

The entire world shifts beneath your feet and you collapse into Boba’s waiting arms. When you bury your face into his shoulder, you pinch your thigh to make sure this was all still real. “D-do you,” your voice shakes, your joy threatening to overwhelm you, “do you really mean it?”

He kisses the top of your head and gingerly tilts your face up, caressing the swell of your cheek. “I’ve never been more serious, princess,” he smiles tenderly, “I want to make you mine. If you’ll have me, of course.”

You can’t help the choked laugh that burst from your chest. Pulling him closer, you meet his lips and throw everything you want to say into your kiss, sealing your sentiment into him with the press of your mouth. As much as you want to get lost in his sweet embrace, though, you break to give him an actual answer. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” you giggle breathlessly into him between more kisses. “In fact, I want you to make me yours over and over and over…”

But before you can get too cheeky, he swats your ass with a smirk. “Dirty girl, aren’t you? I’m old enough to be your father, you know.”

“Ah, well, the younger ones never did it for me anyways. I’ve always wanted a man with some… experience in getting me wet.” You bite your lip playfully and wiggle your brows at him. Now that the oppressive cloud of doubt has lifted from your mind, you feel positively giddy.

Boba smacks your ass again making you squeal in surprised delight. “Now I want you to go upstairs, pick up that cute little dress you ruined, and bring it to me.”

Your breath catches at his dark, delicious tone and you blink up at him, confused—and definitely turned on. “W-Why?”

Boba spins you around to face the house then wraps an arm around your middle to pull you back against his rising chest. “Because, princess,” he murmurs sinfully into your ear, nipping at the tender spot behind it, “I want something to remember you by tonight. Wanna smell that sweet little cunt while I tug on my cock and think about you coming in my mouth. And on my cock. And all over me.”

His salacious request goes straight to your still-swollen clit and you scurry to your room before you can lose your nerve. When you return, you find him leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and expression smug at your obedience. Where your desire to sass him might have been at such pompousness, however, is filled with warm bashfulness as you shuffle over to him. He stretches out the hand that had, until very recently, buried between your legs. Biting your lip, you suddenly can’t bring yourself to look at him as your cheeks burn with aroused embarrassment.

“Ah ah ah, let me see those pretty eyes, sweetheart,” he tuts. “Let me see that sweet look on your face when you give me the dress I made you squirt all over.”

Heat scalds through you, your heart pumping hot desire into your veins as you drag your eyes to meet his dark ones. Boba takes the dress almost reverently from your hand then brings it up to face and inhales deeply, his eyelids fluttering shut. He groans into the material, desire scraping the sound raw.

Fuck how are supposed to keep your hands off him long enough to get anything done ever again?

Before you have time to jump his bones, however, Boba’s phone rings loudly, making you jump. He huffs in annoyance and unhooks his phone from his toolbelt. “Sorry, princess, gotta take this.”

He answers the call, but opens up his arm so you can lean against him. As he talks, his fingers trail up and down your hip, tracing absent-minded patterns that make you glow with affection. The way his body responds to yours, his subconscious little touches, they all confirm his declaration—you’re so happy you might float away if not for his hold on you. All your problems seem far away at the moment and you’re content to leave it that way, if just for now.

When Boba hangs up, he pulls you close to plant a kiss on your forehead. “That was another client of mine,” he explains with a sigh.

You pout. “So you have to go?”

“Unfortunately.” Kissing you again, he swipes his thumbs over your cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby. I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to, you know I’d much rather be with you. my pretty princess. Can I call you tonight?”

“Of course,” you smile. You enter your number into his phone and send yourself a text. “There. Now you’ll know it’s me.”

Looking down at the collection of suggestive emojis and hearts following your name, Boba lets out a hardy laugh. “As if I could ever forget you, sweetheart.” When he finally extricates himself from your feeble attempt to lock him in your arms, he tucks your dress into his belt with a wink. “For safekeeping,” he assures you.

Once he’s pulled away in his truck, you realize he left his flannel on the couch. Pulling it around your shoulders, you decide that if Boba could still put in an honest day’s work after fucking you senseless, then you could at least get some actual studying in. After all, your night is already booked.

#look y'all i wrote a fic about boba fett without calling him daddy for once 🙈#strongly implied though no worries #zwei writes #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfic #boba fett smut #boba fett fanfiction #contractor!boba fett #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #an honest day's work fic

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yellowbunnydreams · 7 months

Text

Do you need some Vitamin D? (Incubus! William x Oblivious! F! Reader) [Part 1]

~Hi lovelies, I'm aware I have been a shitty author and disappeared for a long time, but I have been trying to get caught up with real life and honestly kinda hyper-fixated on minecraft for a week but I'm determined to write! I want to give you all the lovely things so here is an extremely belated Valentines Day fic about monstrous William Afton~

~Happy Valentines, Galentines, Pal-entines and fork-tines to you all! Today we're doing something a little bit silly and something very sweet in honour of the romantic day....A silly fic of monster William x oblivious reader, because let's face it, we all have at least one moment where flirting has gone straight over our heads and we missed the boat.~

@ruh--roh-raggy

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI. Fluff, age gap (Reader 20's - William Afton 40's(?)), teratophilia, meet-cute, punny pick-up lines, scenes of working out, minor porn-logic, ditzy! reader, could be classed as bimbo! reader?, size-difference, flirting, monster-lover, sexual innuendos, Monster! AU

William Afton ran his tongue over his teeth as he lost himself in thought once again. His silvery eyes watching you behind gold-framed aviators as you chatted with your co-workers, the blaring and beeping arcade lights casting colours against your skin in a way that made the older man suck a breath in through his teeth and click his tongue disapprovingly at himself. William had excellent control over himself both professionally and personally, there were plenty of times where his nature wanted to take hold of the reigns and control his actions but he rarely let them.

You were his little indulgence.

As the type of creature he was, it was hard to control obsessions and indulgences. Where did the lines cross? It had been years since he last let himself slip over the line and it had resulted in some unwanted agreements and commitments, a fact he was constantly reminded of whenever he received a letter from his thankfully former wife demanding reconciliation. She never knew the real him though, and William couldn't ever remember a person beside his best friend and his best friend's wife that had ever seen the real him. Just as he had seen the real them.

But as you turned and glanced at the older man leaning in the doorway into the 'employees only' corridor and gave him a little bright smile like always, he couldn't help his usually stern expression quirking at the corner of his mouth to return the smile slightly. You had that affect on the taller man, even if you were unaware of it or his perhaps less than selfless intentions behind it all.

You'd been working at Freddy Fazbear's pizza for just over two months, and in that time you'd made plenty of friends amongst the various members of staff. The cooks knew your break order and always happened to have an 'accidental' order of your favourite cheesy garlic sticks when you'd had a tough shift, people knew that they could rely on you to cover shifts when sick or that you actually knew where the first aid box was.

In general, people liked you, even if you were keenly aware of your one persistent flaw. You were...naïve, at times, and sometimes jokes and stories flew over your head whilst talking with other staff members. And sure, sometimes you'd had your female co-workers come up to you after some guy had talked to you and walked away looking dejected, only to be told they were flirting with you. But you weren't looking to change those things about yourself necessarily, and nobody ever said it was a bad thing that perhaps somebody who was interested in you would have to try a little harder to grab your attention.

"Afton's staring at you again." Your co-worker tutted, crossing her arms and making you look over towards him despite her hissed protests. Spotting the taller man with greying temples and those thin gold aviators that gave him a much more sophisticated look despite his yellow pin-stripe shirt that was a little baggy on his seemingly broad body. Giving him a friendly smile as he was indeed looking your way, seeing his usual frown twitch slightly as he nodded at you and shoved off from the wall, beginning to wander back into the halls of the pizzeria. "He's such a creep."

"He's not! Mr. Afton's lovely, maybe he's just shy?" You suggested, making the woman in front of you raise her eyebrow sceptically.

"Maybe if he was in high-school, he's a grown ass man, he should say something to you if he wants to say it!"

"Well, he and Mr. Emily do like to stand around and make sure everything is running smoothly. He's probably staring cause we're standing around." Shrugging your shoulders as your colleague shook her head and threw up her hands with an exasperated sigh.

"He's been staring at you for like....a month now? Anybody would think you were being sized up to be eaten or something. Or maybe he wants to fuck you." Wriggling her eyebrows suggestively, you smacked her arm and felt your cheeks heating up as you shook your head.

"Don't be silly! Or rude! Mr. Afton wouldn't think like that towards any of us, we're part of the Fazbear family!"

The young woman looked over at a couple of their co-workers sneaking kisses in the pass, with copious amounts of tongue like teenagers who had just discovered the concept of french-kiss and were delighted with the prospect. Shaking her own head as you wandered off to continue working, not wanting to disappoint your bosses.

"Yeah, perhaps a little more 'incestuous' than you realise though." Muttering under her breath as she trailed behind you, helping with the cleaning chores you both had to complete before the next dinner rush.

Meanwhile, William made his way into the offices at the back and made the man already inside jump slightly at his sudden entrance. His dark, short curls greying slightly and wearing an obnoxiously yellow shirt and brown slacks that made William's stomach turn slightly at how bright his friend was. Henry smiled at him from his desk and turned back to looking at the papers on his desk, allowing William to squeeze past and slip into his desk in the back.

The wooden top was cluttered with sheets of paper in neat stacks and animatronic parts in various spread states of disarray. Afton despised paperwork being out of place, but something that he deemed creative like his animatronics were fine to be in various messy states, art to him was supposed to be chaotic and messy. But his thoughts were distracted by that little smile you'd given him, running his thumb over his index nail repeatedly as he stared at his desk.

Henry noticed his silence and turned around in the swivel chair, facing his friend with a curiously raised eyebrow before scooting closer and forcing William to look up at the sound. Frown on his face as Henry broke out into a grin.

"You went out to look at that employee again didn't you?" Henry teased, making the taller man groan and rub his face under his glasses, jostling them from the comfortable position they had been in and forcing him to adjust them before he glared at Henry.

"None of your fuckin' business."

"Oh you did! And it our business! Do you think you might...pursue?" He asked, leaning on the edge of William's desk, making the other man sigh and shrug his broad shoulders as he averted his eyes back onto the projects on his desk.

"Been a while since I...Think I'm just an old bastard at this point." A slight smirk tugging at his lips as he watched Henry rolling his eyes, a huffing, snorting sound that William recognised as a more annoyed sound.

"Where did all your bravado go? Are you sure your previous wasn't a succubus or something? Sucked all the life out of you."

"Wouldn't that be fucking ironic. Must've been a vampire, drained me dry and not in the nice way either." Henry pulled a face and leaned over to smack William on the shoulder, the firm clap reminding William how strong Henry was despite his more slender frame and growing stomach from his wife's cooking.

Both men sat there for a moment before Henry sighed, running his fingers through his curls and shaking his head to dislodge the soft round ears from ontop of his head. Feeling his face getting slightly more full as his teeth pulled at his gums uncomfortably, blinking up at William who simply blinked back.

"Nearly new moon huh?"

"Yeah, it fucking sucks that I can't really leave the office or the house in case, but that's what I have my best friend and my wife for, huh?"

"Don't let your wife figure out they're separate titles." William chuckled, watching as Henry stretched his jaw and pawed at his face as he tried to encourage his more ursine features back into place.

"No way, I value my life and she will absolutely hand me my ass in silver bullets." Henry laughed and shook his head, looking back onto his own desk and spotting the poster for an upcoming event that made his face light up in an even brighter smile as he turned back to William. "You know what you should do?"

"What?"

"Ask her to the staff Valentine's staff-do!"

"Absolutely fucking not!"

"Come on, why?" He whined and William huffed, curling his lip up to reveal teeth a little too sharp to be human before he cleared his throat and cracked his neck, giving Henry a much more normal smile afterwards.

"It's so stupid, and plus, I need to refresh my skills, that takes time you know."

"Just go with what you've got! In fact, start today! Go out there and get flirting! If you don't have a date to that staff-do, I swear to god William, I'll bite you."

"Can't pass on the ursanthropy to me, Henry. But the thought of you biting me in any form is unpleasant." William sighed and stood up from his desk, watching Henry scooting back to his desk and rolling his eyes as he sighed.

Afton hated things like Valentine's Day, thought about all the overpriced flowers and chocolates that were out and about and the tacky foil decorations that would be used once and then ripped down within a day and never mentioned again. But Henry, annoyingly, was right about the fact that it was an opportune time to ask you out and flex his fingers with the charm a little.

It didn't take him long to find you, carrying piles of flat pizza boxes to make-up for takeout and humming slightly as you headed down the winding corridor, peeking over the top of the stack to see where you were going before a pair of hands reached out and took some of the boxes on the top.

"Let me get some of that for you, sweetheart." He chuckled, easily holding the boxes in his large hands and making you smile appreciatively, adjusting your grip on your own stack and feeling better that you could see where you were going and wouldn't run into anybody.

"Thanks Mr.Afton! I hope this isn't too much trouble." Watching as William shrugged and chewed over his lip, glancing over you briefly.

"It's no trouble, hey! Do you like raisins?" He asked suddenly, making you pause as you mulled over the question.

"I mean...I'm not keen?"

"Then how about a date?" William grinned from ear to ear, watching your expression gleefully as you blinked up at him.

"I mean..I might like them? Haven't tried raisins in years, I might have to try them again. Thanks for helping Mr. Afton!" You smiled, wandering through the corridor and towards the front of the restaurant once again, not aware of the flabbergasted look on her boss' face as he stared after you.

You weren't sure what had changed the next day when you came in for your shift, early as always and humming to yourself when you cleaned up. Henry Emily and William Afton came in through the front door, silence between them as you noticed that Henry had a pair of dark sunglasses on despite the early morning light and William had on a tight black t-shirt and jeans, looking more like a biker with a bit of a dad-bod going on. Blinking in surprise as neither of them were really dressed in the professional attire you were used to them being in.

"Good morning Mr. Emily, Mr. Afton!" You called out, causing both men to stop and turn their attention towards you. Afton looking at you with that stern expression he always had whilst Henry attempted a smile, although it fell quickly and settled back into a slightly pained look, causing your brow to furrow with concern.

"Ah, morning," your name was added quietly onto the end, Henry reaching up and rubbing his hand over his face. Secretly checking himself for any subtle transformations, William glancing at him from the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to you. "How goes set-up?"

"Well Mr. Emily, although...are you okay? You look a little sick and tired today. Maybe you should be at home?" Voice laden with concern and head tilted slightly as you watched Henry, managing to miss William's slight smile at your concern for his friend. Henry shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders lightly.

"Ah, yeah just not been sleeping well. Not sweet enough dreams perhaps." Trying to put some humour back into his voice as William lit up and decided to try out another technique on you, feeling his face settling into a confident smirk once more as he looked you over. Somehow you made even the uniform look cute.

"Not like you, hey sweetheart? You're sweet and a dream." You turned to look at him as the much taller man spoke, the same blank expression on your face for a moment before you laughed and shook your head shyly, averting your gaze from his silvery eyes. Wondering if you had ever been so close to him, other than when he picked up the pizza boxes for you.

"You're too nice Mr. Afton, I really just try to be myself." Shaking your head and not noticing as Henry scowled at William from the side, shaking his own head and rolling his eyes behind the sunglasses. "Well, I better get back to work, please take care of yourself today Mr. Emily, and please look after him Mr. Afton." Giving each of the older men a smile before turning back to your duties and allowing them to move on. Still curious as to why they were dressed less formally.

Henry all but grabbed William and dragged the taller man into the back areas and to their cramped little office. Both men staring down as Henry took off his sunglasses and revealed his more yellowish green eyes, the pupils blown out as he struggled to keep himself full in check as the new moon was only a day away. Holding onto his friend's thick arms for a moment before crossing his against his chest, foot tapping impatiently as he had to look slightly up to see William's face.

"What the actual fuck was that?"

"What was what, Henry?" William asked coyly, smirking as the werebear before him huffed and growled in annoyance. Narrowing his eyes as Henry gestured back out towards the main floor where you were.

"THAT! Was that you flirting?"

"Yeah? Girls love that shit, just cause you get that whole 'mate' thing doesn't mean everybody does buddy." William rolled his eyes and crossed his own thicker arms across his broad chest, staring down at the smaller man as he shook his head. Henry running his fingers through his dark curls for a moment as an exasperated sigh escaped him.

"When did girls like that, the eighteen-hundreds?"

"Watch it, and it was the eighties as you well know."

"Either way, you're an old bastard."

"Shut the fuck up, Emily." William growled, his own teeth changing slightly as his lip curled and revealed sharper canines than before. His own monstrous nature leaking through his carefully held together image before Henry blinked and he was back to normal.

Both men headed off into the offices, Henry still shaking his head and glancing at William with a sense of disbelief. His friend was loosing his touch and honestly, he wasn't sure what he could do to rectify the situation without being blunt and to the point which would entirely ruin William's whole thing.

"You're possibly the world's worst incubus, William Afton." Henry muttered under his breath, making William snort and smirk in return as the office door opened and he allowed his features to shift slightly. Sharp teeth, flatter more squashed nose and nails sharper as greyish brown fur started to creep down the back of his neck and onto his forehead, mixing into where his salt and pepper hair normally was neatly swiped back.

"Says you, I'm just getting started." His features turning back to normal as he shook his head. Cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders as the monster once against became the man.

Your phone buzzed on the bedspread as you sat eating cereal in bed and watching some true-crime programme that had come on when you turned on the TV. Almost missing the soft sound before you reached for it and tapped the screen with your thumb to light it up, pausing as you saw it was a text notification and heart pounding slightly as you saw the name attached to it.

William Afton.

Tapping it open, you wondered if perhaps he was asking you to cover the shift the next day, since you had a couple of days off. Although it was usually Henry who reached out and he never texted, always phoned since it was 'more professional'. He had looked sick earlier, so it wasn't out of the realms of possibility that he was handing over the responsibility to William to try and limit how much stuff Henry himself had to do. You paused as the text loaded after a moment and your eyes instantly landed on a photo of William.

It took you a moment to register. But it looked like it had been taken from around waist height and pointed up his body, his greying hair slicked back and wet like he'd just gotten out of the shower, those gold wire aviators catching the light but still able to see his grey eyes and his greying beard. His broad chest was covered in a tight purple shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, the first three buttons undone and letting you see a touch of his dark chest hair that you somehow never realised you knew would be there.

Confused, you looked at the text that came afterwards, your eyes straying back up to the picture occasionally as you tried to figure out what on earth was going on.

'What do you think to the new shirt?' Still confused, you balanced the bowl of cereal on your lap before texting back, thinking on what to reply as you scanned the picture one more time before your fingers moved across the keyboard.

'It's a nice colour on you Mr. Afton. Did you mean to send this to me though?' Turning back to eating cereal and watching the TV for only a moment before your phone buzzed again and you looked at his name popping up on the screen once more, tapping on it to read as you chewed over your next mouthful.

'Shit, really sorry, this was meant for Henry. Thanks for your feedback though.' You tried for a moment to think how your name might end up next to Henry Emily's in his contacts but didn't think too hard about it, popping another spoonful into your mouth before texting back, wanting to reassure the older man that it was a simple mistake.

'It's no problem, I'm not doing anything at the moment anyway. Was just surprised that you texted me.'

A few minutes passed before your phone vibrated again, and you were welcome to the distraction since the programme had become kind of boring and predictable, it was clear who was the murderer and anything was better than the cliche music and dramatic cuts on the screen.

'Not doing anything? A young lady like you should be out and about! I'm curious as to what type of nothing you're up to now though.' The text made you laugh and shake your head, chuckling as you texted back quickly. You weren't sure what it was about the text exchange with William Afton, but it was enjoyable and you couldn't help the involuntary scroll up in the chain of texts to look at the photo again whilst you waited for his reply after your own.

'Sat in bed, eating cereal and watching TV. Really nothing exciting Mr. Afton. I can imagine your evening is more exciting than mine.'

'Well that rather depends on your definition of exciting. What would you be up to if you didn't have the cereal?' A strange question, but you shrugged and replied in the only way that came to mind. Totally unaware that William Afton was across town and laid in his own bed as soon as you mentioned being in yours, a small smirk on his face with one hand tucked up behind his head as he thought it was genius to potentially lure you into a salacious conversation.

'Get up and get cereal :p'

Your reply left his blinking at his screen and he turned his head to look at the floor length mirror across the room, seeing his more monstrous face staring back at him. Soft bunny ears folded back across his head and covered in a fine layer of salt and pepper fur. His large figure spread out across the bed, his clawed fingers running over his head and flatter face, nose twitching as his now pale purple eyes stared back behind his glasses. The bedding up to his waist hiding most of his transformations, tucking his knees up and curling up his lip to reveal his sharp teeth as his foot stamped in annoyance against the mattress. Crossing his arms around himself in a motion of comfort. The lagomorphic incubus was beginning to doubt his own abilities and he didn't like that.

What was it about you that resisted him so easily? He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought it might have something to do with the fact you had always seemed to have a few things...go over your head, to put it politely. Chewing on his lip as he looked at himself once again in the mirror before he closed his eyes and tapped his head back against the headboard, frustrated that it wasn't going exactly to plan.

Unaware of your boss' frustration, you gave up waiting for him to say something back, glancing at the clock and wondering if perhaps he had simply fallen asleep. But you had a small smile that he had talked to you for so long, and wondered if he had enjoyed the conversation too. Putting the dirty bowl on your nightstand to be cleaned up in the morning and sighing as you settled back into bed.

Scrolling back up, you couldn't help one last look at the picture he had sent, cheeks flushing with heat as you shook your head, tossing the device to one side as you rubbed your face. Wondering what on earth had gotten into you that you kept going back to look at your boss and admire the little features of his face.

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