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nagito-kissmaeda · 3 years ago

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Mother May I Sleep with Danger - Servant!Nagito Komaeda x Reader

ミ☆ not a request, I’m just really horny for servant asjdkfkflddj

Summary: future foundation reader is kidnapped by the WOH and figures if they’re going to die anyway……..

Contains: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem reader, no pronouns used

Word Count: 3589

The foundation is not going to be happy with you.

Not only did you balls up your mission into Towa City, but now your uniform is ripped all to hell, basically slashed to ribbons by the Monokuma who managed to overpower you. It was your new set too, all fresh and clean. This mess is going to get you seriously mocked by the men in operations when you get back.

That is if the foundation even lets you back onto the helicopter after this disaster of a mission.

You huff and turn to face the man lurking in the far corner of your cell. He’s been standing there for the past 20 minutes, just shaking and staring at you with wide grey eyes. You had been planning to just ignore him until he left, but he isnt leaving, “What do you want?”

He doesn’t answer, just wraps his arms around himself and starts giggling.

“Are you just going to stand there all day?” You snap, crossing your arms and glaring up at him from your seat on the floor, “If you’re going to kill me just get it over with, the anticipation has all but worn off and I'm just starting to get angry.”

“Ah...kill you?” He giggles again. His voice is a lot gentler than you had been expecting. What with the manic eyes and tangled hair. You were prepared for him to be downright menacing. He sucks in a breath and levels his gaze with you, “I wouldn't kill you. That would be waste.” The chain around his throat jangles as he gestures at you with his mitted hand, knees wobbling like they are barely strong enough to keep him upright, “Honestly, a bug like myself killing you would help no one. It would be utterly disappointing for both sides, and what is the point in that? No despair...no hope...ahhhhaaaa…” he brings the cuff of his jacket up to his mouth and starts gnawing on it, “it would be completely pointless...mm?”

“Why haven't the children killed you?” Your brows draw together, watching his balance shifting from foot to foot, “You must be at least eighteen, right?”

He wheezes, throwing one shoulder up in a haphazard shrug, “Older. I think. I honestly can’t remember.”

For some reason. A terrible little voice in the back of your head whispers - Hey, at least it’s legal! You balk at your own lack of decorum. The man is still currently chewing so furiously on his sleeve that drool has started rolling down his chin, his hair is so matted that if you dug your fingers into it you would probably never get them out again. You are smart enough to take one look at this wheezing, sweating, drooling mess of a man and think: gross.

Unfortunately, your cunt is dumb enough to disagree.

Maybe it’s because you’re going to die anyway. Maybe it’s because his black jeans cling very tightly to his thighs. Maybe you just have terrible taste in men. It doesn’t matter why, but for some godforsaken reason, you are attracted to him.

“So. Are they just keeping you around as a--” you examine him again, eyes locking on the chain dangling down by his knees. (why does looking at that make you want to rub your thighs together?) “--a...pet?”

He laughs again, finally letting the sleeve he was chewing on drop back down to his side, “A fitting position for someone like me, but no. I am their servant.” The man takes a step towards you, the chain jangles in ways that your insides apparently find arousing. You swallow, “I came to this town to seek refuge, but...well...you can see how that turned out.” he laughs again, shoulders quaking with the noise. You can help but notice the stiff way the hand obscured by his mitt is moving. Like he doesn't have any real control over it.

“Ah.” You say, eyes still focussed on the hand you cannot see, but can imagine perfectly well. That hand, along with his age, seem to only lead to one conclusion, “You’re one of the remnants of despair, aren’t you?”

He grins at you, manic, all sharp teeth and wild eyes, taking another step closer to you “Oh! I didn’t expect you to recognise common garbage like me…” he makes a noise that is dangerously close to being a moan, before exclaiming, “you’re right, I am!” His grin turns syrupy in a way that you find yourself enjoying much more than you should. His eyes hooded as he breathes, “does that disgust you? Does my very presence make you want to spit in my face?”

The way he speaks, his soft lilting tone. It almost sounds like he is crooning, purring. You shift on the floor, trying to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs. You have gone from wanting to fuck a regular crazy man, to wanting to fuck a crazy man literally out for capture by the company you work for.

“Listen.” You start, suddenly nervous, “The foundation is looking for you, all of you. But Togami in the other cell and I are working with-”

Your words catch in your throat when he comes barreling towards you and claps his bare hand over your mouth. His eyes are wild when they meet yours, pupils little more than pinpricks in dark swirling circles that dig deep inside of you, his voice drops to a terrifying whisper, “No. Not yet...I have important work I must do and you will not keep me from it.”

“We want to help.” You hiss into the meat of his palm. Horrified at how you feel the jagged grin that tugs at his mouth deep in your stomach. His mouth pulls so wide that his lips tear and bleed, drool pooling at the corners of his mouth and dripping over his lips when he starts laughing again, loud and manic, wheezing and decrepit.

“You truly are an embodiment of hope. You think you can...ah...haha…” He wheezes again, tangled white hair falling over his face and he tries to hold in a laugh, “You truly think you can help me? What a feat that would be! Endlessly impressive I’m sure” He leans in closer to you, eyes calm once again, hooded and piercing, “Thank you for your kindness, but I assure you. It will not be so simple.”

His face is so close to yours now, you can feel his breath on your face, see the bags under his eyes and the way his papery skin has wrinkled around the corners of his mouth. He looks half dead, but under that. You see soft skin, pretty long eyelashes and what are undoubtedly the most stunning eyes you have ever seen. You are going to die soon anyway, so you dont stop yourself from whispering, “You were very pretty once. Weren’t you?”

His lips curl into a smile, but his eyes look almost sad, “Most would disagree.”

“Hm. That’s a shame.” you whisper, trying to ignore the seductive tone you have adopted, “I think you’re still quite pretty now.”

He lets out a wheezing giggle, dropping down into a crouch in front of you and resting his hands on his knees, “Are you trying to win me over with words of kindness? With sharp lies wrapped in goose down?”

They aren't lies, but you can tell he won't believe you even if you try to convince him, “Just tell me what you want with me.”

“What do I want with you?” He breathes, reaching out a shaky hand and running his knuckles down your cheek. One side of his mouth quirks up in a smile at the feeling of your skin, “I don’t want anything...eheh...I just...I just want to watch. I want to see what you will do, I want to see you fight.”

“I’d be able to fight better if you let me out of the cell.”

“Aha. Cute.” He drags his tongue over his lower lip, “But wouldn't it be so much more satisfying to watch you overcome impossible odds? For your hope to overcome the utmost despair?” His head tilts to the side and he smiles, “I have faith in you. I’ll be cheering you on, just dont expect my help.”

The more he talks, the less you understand him. At this point you're barely even listening to his words and are just letting the soft tones of his voice wash over you, his eyes are blinding, it feels like he is staring straight through you. The door of the cell is still locked, Togami is still far enough away that he couldn't hear you if you screamed. Help won't be coming for a long time if it is even coming at all.

And you want to fuck a remnant of despair.

“What’s your name, pretty boy?” you whisper, reaching out a hand to push some of his tangled hair away from his face.

He stills, for a moment. The panic in his eyes is so powerful that even his ceaseless shivering stops. He blinks slowly, unsurely, and his lips pull up in a smile, “My pathetic name isn't even worthy of being heard by someone like you.” he breathes, leaning into your hand as it comes to rest on his cheek, “Servant will suffice.”

You make an upset noise, sitting up on your knees and leaning in closer to his face. His eyes aren’t grey, you realise, they’re green, “Are you sure? I was hoping for something a little more...intimate.”

“Intimate…” he whispers, almost like he is testing how the word tastes on his tongue. His face is so close to yours now, your hand reaches around and curls into the mess of hair on the back of his head. He starts shivering again, a wheezy laugh escaping his mouth almost breathlessly as he (with a surprising amount of tenderness) lowers you down to lay on the hard concrete below, “Is...this what you mean?”

Your heart is racing. He looms above you, knees planted firmly on either side of your hips. His hair tumbles down over his face, obscuring his beautiful green eyes in shadow and you feel your hips twitch upward at even the anticipation of his touch.

“Exactly what I mean.” you purr, slowly sliding your hand down the length of his chain. He quivers above you, a broken moan leaves his mouth when you give it a gentle tug. Your lips curl into a predatory smirk, and then you tug it again, hard.

His mouth collides with yours and a shocked gasp escapes his throat, his arms shake at your sides, desperate and almost panicked. It only takes a moment for him to soften, returning the kiss with a newfound passion, moaning deep and loud into your mouth and leaning into you. His kisses feel a little messy and unpracticed, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm. Choking on a groan when you bury a hand in his hair and pull tight on the strands.

He moves away from your mouth, trailing down the side of your throat and sucking hard on your skin. You can feel his breath hot and heavy in your ear as his tongue lathes over your flesh, teeth sinking in hard into the join between your throat and shoulder.

A moan breaks free from your mouth, and your hips buck upward high enough to meet Servant’s and you can feel his gasp against your skin. He grinds his hips down on yours in response, sucking in a breath at the friction.

“This…this really is my lucky day…” he whines, leaning back on his heels and undoing the few surviving buttons on your shirt. Your bra is conservative, skin toned and unflattering. It’s designed for missions out into the wastes of the world, not for whatever is happening right now.

Servant doesn’t seem to mind, running his tongue across his chapped lower lip, eyes blown wide as he drinks in your form. A shudder runs through him, and he swallows, “may I?”

You nod, “please…touch me…”

He giggles, gripping your breasts in both of his hands (though the hand hidden by the mitt is only really able to press down, but he is trying his best.) before burying his face between them, sighing happily against your skin. You choke on a moan when you feel his tongue run up your cleavage, hands squeezing almost desperately.

“Servant…” you whisper, “my bra, take it off…”

He leans up, a shy smile on his face, “Ah, I would like to! But uh, as I’m sure you know-“ he waves at you with his mitted hand, “-I can’t really use these fingers”

The thought of the dead hand attached at his forearm should deter you, but it doesn’t. You sit up just enough to unclasp your bra, chucking it off into the corner of the cell before grabbing Servant’s bare hand and pressing it to your breast. Servant chokes, brushing his thumb over your nipple.

Your breath hitches, and he is emboldened enough to take the other into his mouth. Your back instinctively arches upward, chasing the warmth of his mouth encasing your nipple, the finger and thumb on his bare hand pinching at twitching the other. His tongue is wet and sloppy, this is no precision to his licks and sucks. The servant is running on animalistic desperation alone.

Luckily, that doesn’t bother you much at all.

The cool metal of the chain presses down hard on your bare stomach, his mitt is scratchy where that hand is pressed firmly to your waist, not able to grab, but it still reads as possessive. You can feel him panting and moaning against your breast, his tangled white hair brushing against your skin in a way that makes you shiver. Your sex is aching, the way he furiously circles his tongue around your nipple feels almost feral and it makes you want more.

You hook your leg around the back of his knees, and use the leverage to flip the both of you over. Servant gasps when his back hits the ground. You grin, physical training at the Future Foundation is finally coming in handy.

Servant looks like a perfect ruin beneath you. His hair spread out on the hard concrete, eyes glassy with desire, cheeks bright red and mouth wet with saliva. You laugh, you can feel him quivering below you. The quivering grows worse when you tug his black jacket down off his shoulders and start working his shirt up and over his head. He is so thin, sickly, shaking, barely even there. All jutting bones and paper thin skin.

“Are they feeding you?” you find yourself asking quite seriously.

Servant giggles, “They’re children. I feed myself when I find the time.”

“You don't often find the time, do you?” he sucks in a breath when the tip of your finger runs up over his exposed ribs. You lean down and press a hot kiss to his collarbone, “Are you sure that you’ll have enough energy for this?”

“Ehehe...Don’t concern yourself with that-“ he leans up enough to lick all the way up the length of your throat, “I can be quite tenacious when required”

You don't doubt it. Leaning back down to kiss him firmly, licking into his open mouth as your hands trail down his torso and to the button on his jeans. He whines loudly when you undo the zipper and wrap your fist around the hardness in his boxers. His hips stutter up into your grip and you smile against his lips. He’s cute. It’s cute how desperate he is. You sit up, grinding your hips down against his, moaning aloud at the feeling of his cock pressing firmly against your clit through your panties.

Servant breaks out into a breathless giggle, panting and moaning as he pushes his hips up to meet yours, shivery and insatiable. The only light in the room is a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, just bright enough to catch on his teeth when his chapped lips curl back in a grin.

“Yes~” He whines when you grind down again, pretty eyes fluttering closed and white hair spreading even further across the concrete, “use me use me use me!”

You like that. You like that a lot, “You want to be used?” you breathe, sitting up just enough that you can wriggle out of your panties, hiking your tight pencil skirt up over your hips.

“Please...please…” he whimpers, hips stuttering up even though there is nothing to meet them. Drool trailing down his chin, “I want you to use me for your pleasure…” he gasps out a moan, like even the thought of it is too much for him, “...cum all over me...please...ruin me…”

“Okay…” you whisper, pulling his boxers and jeans down his thighs to expose his cock, he hisses a breath in through his teeth that turns into a moan when you grab him, “Can you be a good boy and stay still for me?”

He nods furiously. Thighs and stomach tensing as he forces himself not to move. It becomes even harder when you slowly slip yourself down on him, letting your head loll back in a moan at the feeling of him filling you. He cries out, hands jumping up to grab at your waist, trying so hard to keep his hips still when all he wants is to chase your warmth.

A smile crawls its way across your face when you lean forward, placing your arms on either side of his head. He stares up at you, enamoured with you, face flushed red and mouth hung open, “You feel so good, Servant.” you croon, slowly licking up the shell of his ear.

He mewls, thrusting up inside of you just a little. He just can't resist.

“I’m...I’m sorry, I'm so pathetic ehehe” he pants, “Can’t even follow such a simple order.”

“Well, hopefully you will do better with this next one.” You start, adjusting yourself so your bare breasts are now right in front of his face, “suck.”

He doesn't waste one second, licking up under one of your nipples and then pulling it into his mouth. Peering up at you through his pretty eyelashes as he sucks languidly on your tit, swirling his tongue around and moaning so deeply that you can feel the vibrations.

“Ahh…ah! You’re such a pretty boy, aren’t you?”

He nods

“Such a good boy.”

He nods again, moving his hands from your waists to your breasts, pressing them close enough together that he is able to suck on both nipples at once.

“Oh! Ohhhhhhhhh fuck- I…hng…” you rock your hips forward, keening loudly when the head of his cock meets your g-spot. Servant is still trying to stay still. Panting loudly as he furiously licks and sucks on both of your nipples. Wet and sloppy with little to no precision, so desperate to taste you, to devour you. The pleasure in your stomach is curling and twisting, the feeling of him so deep inside you, quivering as he resists the urge to move. It’s so much and not enough all at once.

“Servant…” you groan, hips twitching forward enough to grind your clit down on his pelvis, “you…you can move…”

His hips snap up immediately. He doesn’t waste even a second to drill himself deep inside of you, almost sobbing against the flesh of your breasts when the desperation he has been holding in finally gets to escape. He is animalistic, he is hungry. His hands move from your breasts to grip tightly to your hips, encouraging you to bounce up and down on his cock.

Luckily you don’t need much encouragement. Sitting up enough that your breasts leave his mouth with a lurid pop, throwing your head back and riding him like your life depends on it. Underneath you, you can hear the sound of his chain jangling with the force of his upward thrusts, along with his staccato breathing as he loses himself deeper and deeper within you.

Sweat drips down your forehead, down between your shoulder blades, it feels so good, it feels so wrong. The ever present itch of his mitt presses against your skin, a grim reminder of everything he is, everything he has done. It only turns you on more.

“I…I…AHAHAH! I’m…close.” He stammers, eyes wide when they fixate on the spot where you are joined, sharing himself disappearing inside of you again and again. His bare hand slides down your side and around to your clit, rubbing fast, messy circles that make your hips jump forward.

It’s too much, you can feel your insides growing tighter and tighter as his fingers bring you closer to the release you need so badly. Tossing your head back with a strangled moan as you finally cum, clenching hard around his cock and almost sobbing with how good it feels, how good he feels.

As Servant chases your release with his own, breaking into a breathless laughed as he pounds you with reckless abandon, cumming deep inside of you-

You can’t help but think that the foundation is really not going to be happy with you now.

But as Servant comes down from his high, his grip softens, his eyes grow sleepy, and he gives you a gentle smile that makes you heart race just a little-

And you realise that you don’t really care anymore.

#Nagito x reader #komaeda x reader #danganronpa x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #sorry about the formatting I’m on mobile right now I’ll fix it tomorrow lolololol

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jointimeandspace · 3 years ago

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This story was based on such a beautiful drawing by JvdB_art on Twitter. Source at the end.

You Have Me Forever

Three weeks was how long it had been since you went into a coma. Three quiet, painful weeks. Alcina missed your laughter, your feet pattering on the carpet, and the way you'd scream with joy when you were playing with her girls. The only sounds coming from the castle was the rain hitting the window panes; the large stacks of firewood crackling in the hearth. Alcina felt guilty, something that hasn't happened to her in a long time.

She sat at the large bay window that was in her room looking out at the village below. She hadn't eaten. Her pale skin was more cracked than it had usually been and a constant flow of tears wouldn't stop running from her eyes. "Why does everything have to be so difficult?" she said to herself. She looked over to you on her bed. No sign of movement from you yet. She leaned back on the wall with an exasperated sigh. She'd give anything for you to wake up. With Alcina's large size, it usually came with a few problems. One night, when you and her were making love, she drank from you. "Not a terrible way to go out," you always thought, and you had already done it many times before. However, Alcina took a bit much than she normally had and you passed out. She expected you to wake up after a couple of hours of night's sleep; when you didn't come down for breakfast or lunch that next day, panic set in. Nothing would stir you so she sent for Mother Miranda. She was relieved when Miranda said you were still alive, but she didn't know how long it would be until you woke up. Upon her inspection and running tests, she found out you had diabetes. During your activities, you sugar became low. You hadn't told Alcina, which was a foolish gesture on your part; you had been showing signs of low sugar but chose to ignore them.

Alcina stared into the fire as her memories went back to those first 3 days prior to the incident. Everytime she tried to forget, the memory came back stronger and more vivid than ever.

"Did you know about this Alcina? It's not like you to be so careless with your...pets."

"No, most reverent Mother. I didn't! Why she didn't tell me I don't know."

Alcina at the time did not know (and after all, how could she), that while in your coma, you un(f)ortunately could still here everything. You wanted to spring from the bed and protect your mistress, but you were helpless.

"Hmm!"

Mother Miranda turned back to you and walked toward your side of the bed. You couldn't see, but you could hear the condescending tone in her voice, and only imagined that a mix of malice and amusement ran across her face. She had Alcina under her thumb. Miranda knew all the right and wrong ways to push her buttons, and Alcina knew this, especially when it came to people she loved.

"Oh, Alcina! I'm so disappointed! You should've know what disease ailed her when you drank from her for the first time. Or have your senses started to fail you? Maybe I need to run a few more tests on you; get you back to tip-top shape. I can't let my favorite child falter, now can I? You'll let me know if her condition worsens."

Alcina took in a shuddering breath, trying to compose herself. She dared herself to not look weak in front of Miranda.

"Of course, Mother. Thank you!"

With that, Miranda shut the door and you two were alone again. She waited until the front door closed, and then she fell to her knees and wept. To hear her crying and not being able to move to comfort her was terrifying and heartbreaking. You were determined to make it through no matter what.

"Mama?"

Alcina came out of her daydream when Daniela appeared with a bottle of Sanguine Virginis in hand.

"Mama? Please eat! You don't want to get sick....you'll start turning."

Alcina looked back out the window. With a flick of her wrist, she signaled Daniela to set the bottle down. Daniela, always the intuitive one, went to sit beside her.

"Mama, it's not your fault. Certain ailments are hard to pick up sometimes. You'd have to have the same type of blood over and over again for at least a few years before you figure out which ailment is which. We've had so many types that even I can't differentiate plain from diseased. Staleness, though... we can always tell for sure," she chuckled. "Don't beat yourself up."

Alcina brought her hand to Daniela's cheek. Her baby was always there to comfort her whenever she needed. No wonder she took an interest in you. You always reminded her so much of Daniela.

"Thank you, darling! Go be with your sisters. I think they're looking for you."

Daniela nodded as she gave her mama a kiss and then disappeared in a smattering of flies. Alcina got up and moved to the bed so she could be near to you; she distanced herself for too long.

You looked liked Sleeping Beauty to her, waiting to be kissed. She got down on her knees to have a better look at you and took your hand.

"Oh, draga mea, why didn't you tell me? I would've been so careful."

You felt her kiss your hand- that was new! You couldn't feel any touch for awhile. Now, it felt like your entire body loosening up as if you were being thawed out. You slowly moved your toes and could feel the sheets hitting them. Your body was waking up. You were about to try to speak, but Alcina's voice rang out once more.

"Please, draga! Come back to me. I'll never be so careless again. Mother is right! I should've known, as long as I've been drinking blood. I always push, and push others until I break them. I told myself I'd be careful with you, and now here I am, praying for you to wake." Alcina sobbed, "I love you so much and don't want to lose you!"

She laid her head down on your arm as you felt the tears run down your fingers. Before you knew it, you opened your eyes and looked around the room. It was dark except for the fireplace. You rotated your head a bit and lifted your right arm. You felt stiff and tired, but you were determined to touch her- to comfort her. You looked down at Alcina, whispering silent prayers in your hand. To see her so soft, so vulnerable, and scared, was enough to shatter your soul. You reached over and ran your fingers through her hair. She stopped and looked at you, the light returning to her eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere! You have me forever. And I promise, none of this was your fault. I should have told you, but I didn't want to burden you with my issues. They've always been manageable, but I guess I should've listened to my body before we started that night. I neglected to take care of myself. Plus, I didn't tell you because I was afraid you wouldn't want me anymore; that I wasn't clean enough..."

Alcina silenced you with a deep kiss. How you missed her touch, her eyes, the pleasure that you two shared together. She kissed your face, your neck, hands and fingers. She was so happy to have her darling back. She brought your hand up to her face once more, kissing it and breathing in your sent. "Thank you, sweetheart," she said.

"Thank you for coming back to me. You too, shall always have me forever. And never, will I ever, not want you. You'll always be divine to me. My most precious little one."

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina dimitrescu #alcina x reader #resident evil 8 #res 8 #resident evil village #alcina x maiden #resident viii #village

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tnystrk-exe · 4 years ago

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Estocolmo 2

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

First Chapter

Warnings: 18+ Oral M receiving, daddy kink, someone walks in

Word count: 5.7k

Chapter Two

The light streaming in through the window woke you up. You curled up in the soft silk sheets, listening to Hannibal’s hums coming from the bathroom. Deciding there wasn’t much more to do than doze, you did just that, taking your time to enjoy your Monday morning. His bed was much softer than the hand me down one you kept at home. You really could lay here forever.

It wasn’t until the bed dipped that you opened your eyes. He was all ready dressed and groomed to the nines. The navy sweater and grey trousers seemed as homey as the man allowed himself to be.

“Hello, handsome,” you greeted.

“Good morning, darling.” Hannibal cupped your face gently, smiling when you leaned into his touch. “It’s marvelous to see you so relaxed, it’s not a sight I get to see often. You’re divine.”

“Devine,” you scoffed in disbelief, “I haven’t had a glimpse of it yet, but I’m sure I look nothing less than a wreck.”

Hannibal’s thumb stroked your jaw, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. “When it’s my fault you look so utterly debauched, I can’t lie and say my pride doesn’t play a factor.”

“There it is,” you couldn’t help rolling your eyes as you dropped a kiss to his hand, “Always taking pride in everything you do. However, much to your dismay, I’m going to have to destroy your masterpiece. A shower does sound perfect right now.”

“Of course, I took the liberty of running a bath for you.”

“Sweet man,” you smiled fondly at him.

Bringing you closer he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. As always, he left you wanting more. This time though, you didn’t chase after him. The night of fun was done. All that was left was the goodbye to wrap up the event completely. Some part of you wanted to push that time back.

You hummed lightly, “You enjoy making it hard to not miss you.”

“All the sweeter when we reunite.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

He tapped your cheek playfully, “Take your bath. I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you’re done.”

Getting out of bed, you stretched. Hannibal’s fingertips ghosted along your spine. “From the looks of it, you’d be happier to help.”

“Simply admiring… You truly are a thing of beauty.” he squeezed your hip before taking his hands away, “I’ll leave some of my things for you to wear on the bed.”

Walking into the bathroom, you were taken by the soft scent of nearly familiar perfumes you’d wear, his cologne lingered ever so slightly. A perfect mix of the two. Looking in the mirror, you surveyed the wreckage. Runny mascara, smudged over lipstick, and rather large hickies scattered across your body did make you look like the definition of debauched. The neck didn’t have as much damage, but covering the few there would still be a pain. So much for keeping things hidden from others. Grabbing the pack of makeup wipes on the counter, you started cleaning up knowing you’d find it to be too much of a chore after the bath.

It was welcoming when you finally got into the still warm bath. Hot water made you relax further as your body let go of the last bit of tension it held. The products seemed to match the ones you usually used, if not make yours seem like cheap dupes. Your lip quirked at that realization, the gentleman seemed to have had ulterior motives after all.

You took your time washing up, deciding time to relax was sparse so you may as well take advantage of the small time frame you did have. A soft knock at the door pulled you back to the present. “Afraid I drowned?” You asked teasingly as the door opened.

Hannibal offered a quiet chuckle as he walked over and perched on the side of the tub, “Asleep more like.”

You didn’t bother hiding yourself. He’d probably be able to draw you from memory by now if you were being honest. “I do have a question.”

“What is it, darling?”

You gestured to the soaps, “Did you have any plans in particular for our night?”

“Not exactly. The night ended perfectly- you wouldn’t mind me saying-” Hannibal tapped your chin affectionately when you smiled, “but there wasn’t anything other than pure intentions when I purchased them. The scent reminded me of you and I thought if you drank too much or there was a storm, those kinds of things, it would be good to have something for you to use. Sending you out into possible dangers was never something left to chance. You’d be safer with me.”

“Ever the good host,” you said, taking his word for it, “Thank you for thinking of me, Hannibal.”

“Always.” Hannibal rolled up his sleeves, moving to sit behind you. “Lean back for me.”

You turned to look at him questioningly, “What are you doing?”

“I find it very important to take care of my partners just as much after. You didn’t give me much of a chance last night. While I’m here, I may as well make myself useful.”

Allowing him to turn you forward again before he grabbed the shampoo and conditioner. You sighed heavily as he massaged the shampoo in, his fingers working magic. “You took care of me,” you argued, “Asked me what I wanted and gave it to me. I didn’t want anything else.”

“It’s just as much for me as it is for you,” he stated, running some water through your hair, “I like to make sure nothing was too much or that you’re not telling me if it was.”

“I’m as good as I’ve been in a long time. Really. If I hadn’t wanted something to happen I would have stopped you. Though, if I had known things would have ended like this I would have stopped by when we had more time. Testing before winter break would have been all that much easier.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t be of service earlier,” he mused. “A difficult time that must have been for my sweet girl. Poor thing.”

The urge to sink into the water was strong as you felt the smallest bit of pride at the endearment paired with an equally small bout of jealousy that you shared it with his other partners. It was snuffed out quickly. Perhaps you’d entertain this for a while, but it wouldn’t last. He liked a life that was above and usually too stiff compared to your own. The pair of you weren’t meant to work long term and that was fine. A simple passing thing between friends was the most this would be.

Things went back to business as usual after that night. There weren't any intense feelings or need for Hannibal. There wouldn’t be any time to entertain the idea even if they had popped up. Not with this insane work piled on top of you and the final test you needed to study up on. The most you had seen him was in passing or when he’d drop off a meal every so often. Though you wouldn’t lie and say your mind hadn’t found itself wandering every so often.

There was nothing you could do about that, so instead you took shifts, grading work then studying. Rinse and repeating the cycle as long as you could handle it. Your head was pounding before you knew it, but all of this needed to be done. A little bit longer, you reminded yourself as you took a couple headache pills.

The buzzing of your phone vibrating on the desk startled you. “Hi, dad,” you sighed, stuck with this particular pain.

“Hey, pretty girl, how have you been?”

Pretty girl, you scoffed inwardly. You had to give him credit- at least he was pretending to be interested this time. That was rare. “Nothing much. Work. School. The usual. It’s been heavy lately.”

“Yeah, of course, things get like that. So listen, your mom and I are running real low late-“

“I already told you I wasn’t any good for money. I’m barely making ends meet as it is… I already sent you the last $600 I could,” you rested your head in your hands, “I’m sorry.”

“Well, what the fuck do we send you to that school for,” he shouted, “It’s a waste of time. You’re not gonna make anything of yourself. All you do is waste fucking time. Everything we do for you and you just take it all for granted. What type of selfish bitch of a kid doesn’t try to help out her parents?”

“Yeah, dad, I take everything for granted. Putting myself through school should have been a breeze. Juggling school and two jobs? Simple fucking shit right? You should know, right? Wait… you couldn’t even raise your kid could you?” You snapped the stress getting to you. “Why the hell do you always do this to me?”

No response. He hung up. The truth of the matter seemingly too much for him. No. That was too much credit. He knew you wouldn’t send him anything. Try again some other time. Sighing you set the phone down. Your throat felt like it was closing and your head was pounding. A couple tears fell, soon followed by a quiet sob. You didn’t want anyone to see, but the stress was getting to you. Try as you might, you weren’t made of stone.

You hadn’t noticed when Hannibal had walked in for a usual evening check up. “Darling girl,” his accented voice was laced with worry as he walked toward you, “What’s wrong?” Hannibal crouched near your chair as he wiped away your tears.

“Everything went to my head. It’s nothing. I’m okay,” you swallowed thickly, as you attempted to stop the crying and sniffling, not meeting his eye just yet.

Hannibal grabbed your chin gently, forcing you to look at him. “Nothing more?”

“Nope,” you shook your head, giving him a slight smile, “Just school and a headache. Thank you for checking on me. I appreciate it.”

He looked you over, not believing you but unwilling in prodding you further. “It seems a break is in order.”

“I can’t, Hannibal,” You gestured to the papers and books around the desk, “The sooner I’m done with all this the better. I just want to go home.”

Hannibal started to pick up your things, he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer this time. “We’ll go to my office, you’ll eat, I’ll grade the work and ask you questions. Follow me.” Before you can get a word in, he turned heel, leaving you to quickly scramble behind him.

The office had the same comforting feel his home did. Though you weren’t sure many besides you felt comfort in his presence. Hannibal Lecter was by all means an intimidating man, even when you did feel like you were close to him. Closer now, you corrected thinking about the fading bruises under your shirt and the sweater he had let you borrow that you had yet to return. Still there was something about his presence that invoked a feeling of calm in you, even with that spike of something questionable. He seemed to always have all the answers and knew exactly what to do with any situation.

“Here,” Hannibal placed a Tupperware and drink on your side of the desk, “You really shouldn’t be spreading yourself so thin, love. It isn’t good for such a delicate thing.”

“I’m hardly delicate.” You grabbed the food giving him a grateful smile. “I’ve got it all handled. It’s just finals and everything stacked up. The future. I stumbled a bit, is all.”

Hannibal sat on his side and started shuffling through your papers. “Nonetheless, I wish you didn’t strain yourself so much.”

“Not all our days can be a nice weekend together,” you pecked at the salad, as much as you wanted to grab some papers off the stack you knew he would never allow it, “Life is still as frustrating as ever.”

“What did they say?” Hannibal asked, nipping the problem at the bud. If you wouldn’t start the conversation he would.

You sighed, “Something along the lines of ‘waste of time’ and ‘selfish bitch’ really wasn't the worst thing he's ever said. I was just already at my endpoint. I’m pretty sure if I dropped my pen I would have had a similar reaction.”

“Being at your end doesn’t justify mistreatment.”

“I know,” you shrugged, “but I don’t have it in me to argue anymore. Deaf ears and all that. What’s the point?”

“The point is making it known that you won’t tolerate that behavior.”

“I’m just tired and disappointed. A part of me is considering just going into the world on my own. The only family that really cares has passed on, what’s the point of hoping my parents would ever consider changing.” You coughed lightly, clearing your throat. This was too much of a therapy session for your taste. “I’ve already made it up in my head that I’m going to wait a year before getting back in school. You know, save any penny I can. These past four years even with aid and scholarship money has been hell. I’m going to be 24 and there’s still just so much to do.”

“I can’t say I envy you,” Hannibal shook his head, “The uncertainty in those years is unmatched.”

“It’s hard to imagine you uncertain of anything. You seem to always know exactly what to do.”

Hannibal scoffed lightly, “Only because time has granted me certain wisdoms. When I was younger I was lucky enough to appeal to someone with my artistic talent and stories of my past. Though I’d like to think it was the former that earned me my scholarship. I may not have had the exact struggles you did, but we’ve all been through situations we needed to push past. It comes in time. Once you get there, you’ll go through life with grace.”

“Well, I don’t have any reservations about using my past. Would you be my mentor?” You joked, for the most part.

“A five year forward request,” he mused, “Are you certain you’d enjoy me that much as a mentor?”

“Someone is gonna have to teach me the ropes,” you shrugged, “We’re more than comfortable with each other and I already know how pleasurable time with you can be, why not learn a couple of things from your infinite wisdom?”

His lip quirked, “Glad to know your thoughts are nothing less than wholesome.”

“Only the purest.”

You ate your dinner as he asked questions. It was a bit unfair, probably, you knew he had helped form the test. Then again, you knew your boss and it was more than likely all of Hannibal’s work. So this little run was sure to be a preview of what to expect. Still, the questions he asked were far from simple, despite how much you studied. Sometimes a raised brow would tell you, you needed to think again. Other times you’d get a soft praise thrown your way that would immediately make you think of when he was against you.

“A few more for me, darling girl. You’re doing so well.”

Your face heated up as you remembered the exact moment he said something nearly identical.

Hannibal looked at you over a paper, a smirk playing on his lips, “You’re looking a bit distracted, are you alright?”

“You know what you did, jerk.”

“Do I?” He laughed.

You shook your head, “You’re unbelievable.”

Hannibal continued grading, rattling off questions off the top of his head. You mind however, wandered. Answering his questions absentmindedly, more preoccupied with memories than the matter at hand. The way his hands felt. His breath against your chest as he chased his high. The gentleness the morning after as he helped you into his clothes, giving you a last kiss before breakfast. A lingering regret at not getting to thank him back properly. He would be the perfect distraction now that you thought of it.

“I won’t help you if you prefer to daydream.”

“I wouldn’t be daydreaming if you didn’t decide to help me in the first place.”

“Touché.”

“Think I’m all done studying. I’m tired of it,” you sighed, stretching, “I want to do something else.”

Hannibal looked at you, brow raised. “What’s that sweet girl?”

You shook off some nerves. As much as the two of you had already done, he was still an intimidating man. His eyes followed as you stood and walked around the desk. Hannibal brought your hand up to his lips. You trailed it along his jaw, feeling the rough stubble that just started coming in, buying yourself some time to steady yourself. A raised brow questioned what you’d do next, but otherwise he leaned into your touch.

“I wanted to thank you for everything. For how good you are to me.”

“I don’t expect anything in return,” he assured.

“Yeah, I know,” you sunk to your knees in front of him, tracing your fingertips up and down his thigh slowly, looking up at him, “but I want to take care of you too.”

He toyed with a strand of your hair, looking almost bored as he leaned back in his chair. “That isn’t necessary, little one, I enjoyed watching you.” Still there was a glint of something in his eye that told you he was interested, merely teasing with the show he just wanted something more from you.

You bit your lip, pondering at what he had deemed missing. The title. A thing that had slipped past your lips embarrassingly but one he had used with stupor throughout the night. Hands settling on his knees, you pushed them apart so you could settle there more comfortably. A pout, “Please, daddy, I’ve wanted to since we met.”

“Always an eager plaything,” he sighed checking the clock on the wall, “I suppose daddy can make some time for his girl.”

That was enough for you to start undoing his belt. Despite the bored act, his half hard cock betrayed him and told you exactly how much he had been interested. You palmed him through his boxers, he didn’t give you the pleasure of hearing anything from him, but that’s alright you didn’t mind earning it. Once you were satisfied with how hard he was, you pulled him out of the boxers. Leaning back on your knees you took it in, unsure if you could fit the length of it in completely.

Hannibal took in your hesitation. Using a finger he tilted your head up to look at him in the eye. “We don’t have to do anything if you aren’t okay with it now. A change of mind is more than alright.”

“No. It’s not that I want to,” you licked your lips, as if to prove how okay you were you wrapped your hand around him, thumb tracing a prominent vein, “I was just wondering if it would fit all the way in.”

He let out an amused huff, shaking his head, “I’m sure you’ll try your best, ridiculous girl.”

Leaning in you pressed a kiss to the head. Just a little more time to work up the courage. You kissed along the shaft, mapping out every vein. Your tongue traced its way back up, catching a taste of precome that had beaded on the head. An encouraging hand threaded itself in your hair, never pushing for more than you were willing to give.

A knock at the door, interrupts the scene.

“A moment,” Hannibal calls out to the person. “Get under the desk,” he said as he started to hide away any evidence that he was with anyone. Your appearance wasn’t completely ruined, not to his taste at least, but the messed up lipstick and slightly ruined hair wouldn’t take much mental work for someone to come to the correct conclusion.

Taking his instruction you got under the desk as he fixed his own appearance, suit jacket over his arm to hide himself. Walking over to the door, “Mr. Henderson,” he greeted, pleasantly, “Please, come in.”

“Hannibal, sorry about stopping by so late,” you heard the door close as the two walked over.

“Nonsense. If anything, the company is welcomed.” Hannibal took his seat, pulling his chair in close, to make sure you were hidden away.

“I was actually going to see if I could convince you to stay.”

Mischief sparked as you grew bored with their droning conversation. Thankfully he had decided to get rid of his belt fully. It didn’t take much to free him again. He spread his legs, attempting to give you the most space possible under the cramped desk. You pumped him in your hand, getting him back to how you had him. The other hand tugged softly at his balls. You wouldn’t be able to put him in your mouth properly with this angle. Instead you satisfied yourself with sucking on the sides of his cock.

“The students adore you,” the other man countered whatever Hannibal had said, “Honestly your classes are killing Jacob’s with every exam.”

“I take great pride in my students. They are an extension of myself. How well they do is a direct reflection of my skill as a teacher,” he sighed, “I have a couple of people in mind that could fill my roll, I’ll ask people to see who’s interested.”

“Still Jacob’s is slacking too much, I may take away his student aid privileges. I see her around here more often than I ever see him.”

You gave a particularly hard suck to a seemingly sensitive spot as his hips had stuttered ever so slightly. No evidence of any misconduct came from his voice as he said, “Oh her? She is a very good girl. Motivated. Never complains about a thing.”

You felt Hannibal throb against your mouth. Taking a break you leaned your head on Hannibal’s thigh, as fun as it would to mess with him more, you knew he took great pride in his social image. Besides, you had wanted Hannibal’s full attention anyway. His hand came down to your hair, subtly showing that he was still paying attention to you to the best of his abilities.

They talked a while longer, before Henderson finally left. Hannibal had pulled out a stack of papers, motioning like he was going to work on grading, and politely asked him to lock the door as he left. When it was clear he pushed his chair away from the desk. You made your way out smiling at him.

“Someone seems very happy with themselves.”

“You enjoyed it.”

“But did you ask permission?” Hannibal asked as worked himself lazily.

You faltered slightly under his gaze, “Well...no.”

“And do you think you deserve any type of reward for that stunt?”

“...I hope so.”

“I’ll forgive it,” he decided, “only because you’re so eager and we never set ground rules. But now it’s on my terms.”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded obediently, not wanting to receive one of Hannibal's punishments just yet.

Hannibal used your hair to pull you closer. You stumbled on your knees catching yourself on his thighs. “Since you were so unsure if you could fit in daddy earlier, after that little stunt, I’m sure you’re feeling better now. Aren’t you?”

The hand in your hair pushed you down. You closed your mouth around the tip. Hannibal groaned quietly, letting you work your way down. Bobbing your head you took more of him deeper every time, but those last two inches were proving difficult. Gripping your hair, he pulled you off of him.

His breath was coming in quick pants, brushing your hair away from your face. “Do you need help, darling?”

“I can’t fit it daddy.” It came out in a breathless whine.

“Yes, you can. Be a good little mouth and let me do the work.”

Again he pushed you onto his cock. This time he took control. His hand kept you in place as he thrusted his hips up. Without the hesitation you had, he fit himself in quickly. Grinding into your mouth he let you choke around it for a while before pulling you up for air.

“See?” He choked out as he used you again, “Fucking perfect mouth… Daddy’s good girl… taking care of me like she asked.”

His grunted praises and moans were enough to excuse the tear prickling your eyes. Over and over he used your mouth to it’s extent. Seeming to enjoy it most when you did choke on him. Hannibal stopped before he came. Pulling you up off the floor and onto his lap. Wiping away the stray tears that had fallen.

“You’re too good for me.” He kissed your cheek.

“You haven’t finished.” You caught your breath as you curled into his chest. His cologne comforted you. The increasingly familiar scent carved a special place in you.

“I’ll finish later,” he promised, dropping another kiss onto your head, “At the moment, I want to make sure you’re alright. I got carried away.”

“I’m not porcelain, Hannibal,” you intertwined your fingers with his, “I like it when you’re in charge… It gives me a chance to not think of anything.”

“Even so these situations require a lot of trust from your partner.”

You shrugged, as you decided to be honest, “At the moment you seem to be the only person I trust. Besides, you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Let’s hope I don’t disappoint you.”

“I can’t see you ever doing that.”

That night Hannibal had taken you home. You received the same treatment you had received the first night you stayed at his house. Mostly you thought it was an apology of some sort for treating you roughly in his office. By some good grace both of you had classes later in the day, allowing you to enjoy the softer side of Hannibal in the morning again.

A new sweater of his joined the one that resides on your futon. You hadn’t thought twice about packing them away when you emptied your apartment out.

Life in New York was eventful to say the least. Different but fun. It had been six months since you had graduated. Your friend from high school shared an even shabbier apartment together. You made a couple friends. Picked up jobs at a bar and a bookstore.

“You’re not any fun,” Alex complained as she adjusted her makeup, “You never want to go out with me.”

“I’m tired,” you complained. “Anyway, why would I want to go to a bar when I work at one?”

“To wreak hell on someone that’s stuck in your usual gig.”

“Have fun with the guys.”

She attempted to pull you off the couch a couple more times to no avail. In truth you were happy to have a moment of peace. All honesty she was the driving force in you actually living your life and not just working the entire time. You really did love her for all of that and the experiences you had. However there were times for breaks to be had from everything. And tonight was one of them.

You showered, got dressed in a sweater and shorts, heated up some leftovers. Throwing on a bad 80’s horror flick, you spent your night in splendor. A break was rare and you were gonna use your relaxation time to its extent. Sleep overtook you sometime in the night, only to be woken up by the annoying shrill sound of your phone.

“Al, baby, I love you so damn much, but if you’re gonna bitch at me about not going out tonight. I just might be tempted to murder you,” you muttered sleepily, “I could get away with it.”

“Sweet girl, is that any way to speak to your friends?” A voice you hadn’t heard in a while asked, disappointment clear in his tone.

“Hannibal,” you said lamely, slightly ashamed that that was the first thing he heard from you in months. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you. It’s… It’s been a while.”

“It has been,” he agreed, “In fact, I called to ask if you would like to come to a dinner party.”

You looked at the clock, noting just how late it had been. “You called at two in the morning to ask me to a dinner party?”

“I’ve been busy and you didn’t leave an address for an invitation. It was… spur of the moment.”

“I missed you too,” you sighed, deciding to be the one to voice it, “Yeah, I’d love to go over.”

“Are you planning on staying with me?”

You sighed dramatically, “Suppose I can give a lonely old man some company. What, you couldn’t find anyone as entertaining as me in Baltimore?”

“I’ve got specific tastes.”

“Is that right?”

Alex walked in, the last part of the conversation hitting her ears and the alcohol in her system making her louder. “Is that the daddy? Does he know he’s ruined men for you? Ugh, can you get him over here to loosen you up? I’d appreciate it that so much.”

“I never said ruined, I just sa-“ you realized Hannibal was still on the phone, “Just please, go take a shower, I’ll make you anything you want to eat if you promise to stay quiet.”

Surprisingly she complied, only saying egg sandwich with cheese and bacon in response.

“Ruined?”

“Couldn’t let that skate by?”

“You’re the one talking about me.”

You coughed. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve got specific taste too. Just something happened with someone and I don’t know, I couldn’t get into it that same way. Like with you. They needed me to tell them exactly how… It was just awkward. It wasn’t satisfying. They were nice though.”

“You compare my experience to their experience inexperience,” he deduced. “You enjoy knowing I’ve got everything under control.”

You tried to shake away the blush. “So it seems we’re stuck in similar positions.”

“We are.”

“Hannibal,” you heard someone call out, “When were you thinking of joining us? We didn’t bother you so much you had to leave us that long.”

He asked him for a moment.

“Seems like someone wants your attention,” you commented.

“Does it bother you?”

“Not at all. Just friends having fun right? It would be hypocritical considering I just told you of my night with someone else. As long as it’s nothing serious with whoever that was, we’re fine.”

“They’re nothing. Someone’s too loud nephew. In fact I think he’s rather rude. You know I can’t stand people like that.”

“You’ll survive. Get home safe.”

“I’ll send you the directions in a moment. Have a goodnight little one.”

“‘Night daddy,” the long unused term of endearment fell from your lips easily.

“‘Night daddy,” Alex sighed dreamily from the bathroom door, “God, is the dick really that good? How could it be?”

You hung up the phone. “Can you please not do that next time? He’s really particular about things.”

She raised her hands up in defense. “Whoa, there. He can handle a little joke at his expense when he’s already been down your throat. Now where’s my sandwich?”

“I’m serious Al.” You sighed when you got up from the couch to get to work on your promise. “He makes me feel like I need to be all proper.”

“You’re fine, doll. A dime if I’ve ever seen one. I’m not gonna ruin this for you, if he randomly decided to call you this late,” she took a seat on the counter, taking the water you handed her gratefully, “Do you want that to be a long term thing?”

“Nah,” you threw the bread into the toaster, “I couldn’t live his life. Sure, I like him and I do think he’s fun to hang around. But it just feels like something that will simmer down eventually. We’ll probably meet up a couple more times and it’ll be done. It’s not like we do anything more than end up in bed and sweet talk.”

“I’m telling you, we’d be set if you asked him to be your sugar daddy. Please ask him to take care of you and be his call girl.”

“How about you?” You asked, changing the topic, “Any pretty girls?”

“This one chick at work,” she shook her head, “Fucking goddess of a woman, LN, I’m telling you. I got it bad. She’s got me waiting for her with her coffee orders in the morning like some kind of obedient little puppy.”

“You know her coffee order.”

“Exactly!”

“How’s the commitment issues?”

“I’m gonna have to fucking work through them. Unlike someone, I think I wanna try out the long term thing.”

“Hey!” You cracked the eggs into the oil, “I’m just not up for it right now.”

“Work him out of your system. We’re supposed to be having fun this year.”

You sighed, “I’m trying.”

“I’m telling you we find you a decent lay. You won’t need to be fucking around with that guy.” Your phone chimed. Alex grabbed it off the counter. “The devil works fast doesn’t he? Address and day of the party. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. Says he’ll buy you a cute little number.”

“No, tell him I got it.”

“Thank you, daddy. I’ll make it worth your wild. Wink. Send.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I still think he’s ugly,” she shrugged, tossing your phone over, “May as well get a cute dress out of sleeping with him.”

“He’s not ugly. I’ve seen the people you’ve brought home,” You scoffed, handing over the plate.

“Reggie is a fun time! Fuck I miss Reggie.”

“Work chick,” you reminded her.

“Right right.” She argued before taking a bite of the sandwich. “Fine, we’ve both had our questionable older partner moments. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not.”

“Still never called her mommy and that’s a win in my books.”

“I should have never told you that,” you laughed, “I fucking hate you man.”

She pinched your cheek affectionately, “You had your chance to get rid of me. The return policy ran out. You’re stuck. Congratulations.”

“How long until you expire?”

Alex pretended to count it through. “We’re looking at at least 50 years more, if we’re lucky.”

You hummed, “Are you accounting for possible sickness or accidents?”

“I’m immortal for 50 years in between. No arguments at this time please.”

Next Chapter

Tag list: @charc0al-grey

#hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x reader #slasher imagine #slasher x reader #Reader #smut

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years ago

Text

Kinktober #24: Mine: Katsuki Bakugou

On the way home from a night out with Bakugou, you realize that things may not have gone as smoothly as you’d hoped.

Characters: Katsuki Bakugou x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, jealous!bakugou, rough sex, rough oral sex (both m and f-receiving), cum swallowing, marathon fucking, spanking, choking if you squint, a little aftercare

Notes: This is f i l t h y. And kind of brutal, to be honest. But if anyone’s going to be an absolute animal in bed, it’s Bakugou when he’s feeling jealous.

It’s a little more proofread than usual. And kind of on the longish side (~3.5k), so strap in.

You’re welcome? I think?

Kinktober Masterlist

It’s not until you’re halfway home that you realize something’s up.

Another Friday night, another agency gala. Bakugou hates black tie until you remind him how good he looks in a suit, and he loves to see you in those body-hugging silk dresses as often as possible, so he’s usually happy to suck it up for the occasion.

He’s such a misanthrope that you weren’t even surprised when he tugged you out of there in a hurry, whisking you into the car and driving off in sullen silence.

You’ve been trying to make conversation all the way home- it was nice to see Denki again, I hear Kiri’s teaching at UA these days, did you know Iida’s going back for his Master’s degree- but every time you mention a name from his past, Bakugou’s shoulders draw up tighter around his ears.

Fair enough.

You keep the radio low and distract yourself with the passing downtown lights. You feign serenity, but inside your mind is coming to pieces. If Bakugou’s annoyed at something- comically, playfully, extravagantly annoyed- he’s got road rage like nothing you’ve ever seen. But tonight, he pulls silently up to each red light. Jaw set. Crimson eyes steady on the road.

Something’s really up with him tonight.

He turns smoothly into your underground garage, pulling the car into his parking spot and killing the engine. He shoots you one smouldering, solid glare, then gets out of the car and slams the door nearly hard enough to dent it.

“Baby?” Your voice is tiny as it echoes across the concrete garage, and you shuffle to catch up with him in your narrow skirt and heels. As he pushes open the heavy glass door and you follow him into the elevator bay, your patience narrows.

“Okay,” you sigh, folding your arms over your chest. “You’ve had your time to pout. You’ve made it clear, you’re mad at me. So, are you going to tell me what I did, or do I have to figure that part out for myself?”

The doors roll open. Bakugou grabs your wrist.

He tugs you into the elevator and slams you against the wall so fast you see spots in the bright fluorescent lights over your head. Before you can even process the change in his character, he’s pressed his whole torso along yours, pinning you to the cool granite wall and crushing his mouth on yours.

You kind of hate how into it you are.

You let him kiss you for a minute, but you’re not backing down from this fight. Bakugou’s never been good at communication. You’re working on it. There’s no way you’re letting this one slide.

“Katsuki,” you bark, jerking your face harshly to one side and planting your hands on his shoulders. He gives a vicious snarl, but he’s not forcing you to kiss him.

“Stop it,” you hiss. “If something’s wrong, tell me.”

“You mean you really haven’t figured it out by now?” His voice is low and gravelly and edged by wildness. It’s clear he’s been barely holding on to his temper all the way home.

“No. I haven’t.” The elevator starts to move. It’s a tall building- and it’s a long way up to the penthouse.

“Course you didn’t,” he grunts, still pinning you hard. He draws his mouth along the edge of your jaw. “Shoulda known you wouldn’t notice the way they were all lookin’ at you.”

“Who?”

His temper cracks again and he snarls, shoving you more firmly against the wall again. One hand slides up your chest and his fingers grip tightly at your shoulder, teasing at the hollow of your throat.

Oh.

So it’s gonna be like that.

“Everyone,” he hisses. “Kirishima. Denki. Everyone. You wore that tight little fuckin’ dress and they couldn’t keep their eyes off you.”

“Katsuki,” you croon low and smooth, even though you know you’re gonna regret it. “don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

The palm that teased at your throat closes around it now, using its gentle grip to push your head against the wall. He knows exactly how hard to squeeze to get a rise out of you. And he squeezes.

“Don’t.”

He’s warning you, but you’re too relieved to know that you never actually did anything wrong. This is just another one of Bakugou’s temper tantrums that you’re going to benefit from.

“You are,” you hiss, grinning wider. “Jealous of your old classmates? C’mon, baby, you know better than that.”

“Shut up.”

His mouth covers yours again. His thumb brushes over the flutter of your pulse point as he licks into your mouth, biting down hard and sucking at your lower lip.

The elevator chimes. Before the doors can roll open, he stoops and grabs you by the thighs. He slings you over his shoulder and straightens easily, delivering a harsh slap to your ass.

“Katsuki!” You squirm over his shoulder, beating at the back of his coat as your face goes hot. There are two apartments on this floor, and the chances that one of your very respectable neighbours is standing in the hallway aren’t zero.

Smack.

Another blow, to the other cheek this time, and you go still.

“Quit strugglin’,” Bakugou barks, “or I’ll drop you on your head.”

He shifts your weight easily into one arm, digging into his pants pocket and producing his key. Deftly, he unlocks the door to your condo and pushes it in with his shoulder. As soon as he kicks the door shut behind him, he sets you on your feet.

Before you can scold him for your burning cheeks, he shoves both hands under the edges of your coat, wedging it off your shoulders.

“C’mere,” he snarls. He slides one hand down your back, between the wool and the silk, and palms the swell of your ass. Your coat hits the floor in a swath of black tweed and then he’s stooping again to pick you up, forcing your thighs apart around his hips. The smirk that decorates his features is vicious. His cheeks have gone pink.

You’re a sucker for him when he gets like this.

“Listen to me.” He sets you on the kitchen counter and steps up between your thighs, shoving your long skirt up and sideways around its high slit. “I am not. Jealous. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re fuckin’ mine, okay?”

“You’d think the fact that we’re-hmmmph.”

He kisses you again before you get to finish your sentence, then rips himself from your lips. He tugs your body closer by the hips and buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, nipping and sucking hard at the skin there in his best attempt at leaving a mark. All the while, his fingers fumble with the straps on your dress, slipping them off your shoulders.

He wraps his hands in the silk bodice and tugs. Hard. One of the straps snaps over your upper arm as he shoves your dress down around your waist, exposing your chest.

“Baby,” you whine, but you know he’ll make it up to you later.

“All fuckin’ mine,” he growls again, slipping his rough palms over your breasts and squeezing them together. “Gonna make you feel it, sweetness.”

He attacks your collarbones and breasts, leaving mark after mark as his teeth and tongue lave over your skin. When he’s had enough, he gets down on his knees in front of the counter and curls his fingers into your underwear, tearing it clean off your body.

“Katsuki!” You grab him by the top of the head, attempting to push him away by his hair.

“You shouldn’t wear such flimsy shit, if you don’t want me to break it,” he chuckles, already biting up the inside of your thigh.

“Tell me,” he mumbles, tugging you right to the edge of the counter and bracing your thighs in both hands. “Can Shitty Hair make you scream like this?”

He dives into your pussy, plunging his tongue straight into your tight heat and making you shudder and moan. You can’t help but bend to his whim- he knows your body better than his own, and he’s not shy about showing it off.

Bakugou’s desperate, tongue-fucking you with reckless abandon. He swirls messy saliva around the tender nub of your already-swollen clit. Sometimes he’s patient, working you to the edge slowly, but tonight he forces pleasure into you, brutal and unrelenting.

You live for it.

“Katsuki,” you whine, raking your fingers through his unruly hair, “baby, please, oh, fuck!”

Your first orgasm hits you mercilessly, and you cum with a deep cry of pleasure as your heels draw up his back. You’re still wearing your shoes- pretty, strappy sandals that drive him crazy. Even crazier, when they’re digging into his flesh like they are now.

“That’s it,” he growls, drawing back from you all slicked-up and wild-eyed. His lips are flushed deep from gorging himself on you, and he wipes the back of his mouth with a silk shirtsleeve as he gets to his feet, shrugging impatiently out of his suit jacket.

“God, fuck,” you sigh. You reach for him, but he grabs you again, lifting you onto his hips. This time he’s hard, and you can feel it twitching against the inside of your thigh, heated and ready.

“I’m not finished with you yet.”

This time, he makes it as far as the sofa before he flops into the cushions, dragging you into his lap. You straddle him eagerly and lean forward against his chest, the fabric of your dress still bunching around your waist and hips. You grab him by the jaw and kiss away the lingering remnants of your lipstick while he palms your ass and grinds the stiff, pressed wool of his crotch and his straining cock shamelessly against you.

For an instant, you sense control. And he lets you enjoy it. Slowly he lifts his hands to your back, smoothing the fabric of your dress with one palm so he can grasp its zipper and slide it open with the other.

As soon as he breaks from your mouth to lift the fabric over your head, you know what you want to do with your reins.

“Where’r you goin’?” He scolds, watching you draw back from his lap. His crimson gaze is clouded with lust. But his jaw is still tight, frustration licking at his body like flames.

“Not far.”

You drop to your knees in front of him. Tug his shirt roughly out of his pants and slide your fingers underneath it to find his fly.

He chuckles, low and feral, smoothing a hand through what’s left of your hairstyle for the night.

“That’s my girl,” he chides. “Show me who you belong to.”

The prospect strikes a nerve of want somewhere deep inside you. You dig your hands into the folds of his undershorts, wrapping your hands around the hot silk of his erection and pulling it into the open.

It’s impossible for you to pretend that Bakugou doesn’t have the most perfect dick you’ve ever seen. When he’s hard like this, it’s pink and flushed and drooling slick precum. It’s thick and soft and curving up toward his belly. It’s like he’s made for you. You fit together like the two halves of a lock. Sculpted for each other, molded out of one another.

And he loves it when you suck him off.

You give the tip of his twitching cock a bare little lick and his fingers twist, tightening threateningly in your hair.

“Don’t tease me, sweetness,” he snarls, “or I’ll make you choke on it.”

He’s probably going to do that anyway.

You brace your hands on his thighs and straighten up, sucking his tender tip into your mouth. You lave your tongue over it, and he bristles, watching you carefully with a tight-lipped groan.

It’s not long before you settle into a rhythm, sucking him down messily while your right hand picks up the slack. He’s grabbing you by the hair and staying tense. His thighs are rock hard on either side of you.

You take him into your throat and stay there, and he breaks.

“Aw, fuck,” he growls. His head falls back and he grabs your head with his other hand, too. His hips buck into your throat and you gag, spitting messily around his shaft as he starts to fuck your throat in earnest.

The sounds that erupt from the both of you are obscene. You’re drooling all over his suit pants, but his control is nowhere to be found. And when you grab his balls and squeeze his spine goes concave. He throws his head back. He howls.

“Fuck!” His hips stutter hard, but he doesn’t stop. Neither do you.

“Aw, fuck, sweetness,” he growls. “Fuck. Fuck. Look at you, chokin’ on my dick. Look at you, taking it so fuckin’ good. I’m gonna cum so fuckin’ hard down your throat. I’m gonna make you taste me, baby, so close. Fuck, oh, fuck, oh-“

His babbling ceases as the spring in his body is released. It’s like all his nerves go inside out for a second. You grab his thighs as hard as you can and squeeze while he ruts into your face and pumps his load right down your throat.

When he’s finished, you draw your mouth carefully from his twitching dick. You half-expect to see him sprawled across the couch completely spent, but before you can even get a look at his face, he grabs you all over again. His voice is sandpaper in your ear.

“’M takin’ you to bed. Now.”

You’re already tender, but you’re ready for more. You live for this; when he gets too wild to speak, too crazy to stop. Testing the limits of your stamina is something that will never get boring.

Especially not when you’ve got Bakugou on the other end.

He lays you down against the pillows and flips you onto your belly.

“Stay put.”

He steps back, shucking himself out of his pants and undershorts. He practically tears away his shirt and tie. He doesn’t come back to you until he’s naked. When he does, he drags you up onto your knees and keeps your face pushed into the pillows.

“There you go,” he mutters. “So fuckin’ sweet for me, baby. I’m gonna fuck you so good, you know that? Gonna fuck you so good they’ll hear you screamin’ back at the party.”

You’re gonna have to ask Kirishima to look at you like that more often.

He bends behind you and seals his mouth over your pussy, laving his tongue over your folds again. His shoulder bobs against your ass and you can tell he’s stroking himself- encouraging his spent flesh to rise to the occasion.

The taste of you always spurs him on.

When he’s ready, he pulls abruptly away and lines the tip of his cock up with your slick folds. He grabs the curve of your ass hard with one hand. Gives it a hard smack. It’s already stinging from his rough treatment earlier, but you’re sure he’s not finished with it.

“You gonna tell me who you belong to?” He taps the tip of his cock against your clit, teasing you with the heated flesh. You want it so bad by now that it aches, and you turn your head to gasp for breath as you grip hard at the sheets.

“I never belonged to anyone else,” you plead softly. He doesn’t like that answer and punctuates his disappointment with another hard slap to your ass. He draws a cry from you. You’re starting to lose yourself.

“Try again.”

“Please,” you sob, wiggling your hips against his. He leans back, keeping himself from you.

“Who. Do you. Belong. To?”

“You.”

The answer clicks as your need grows to unbearable levels. You say it like a prayer. Like a plea for mercy.

Bakugou delivers.

“That’s right. You’re mine, sweetness. You hear me? Mine. All mine.”

He sinks into you on the last syllable and his voice turns to jelly. His thighs are strong and firm as they bump against yours. He bottoms out. Gives you a breath to adjust to the stretch.

Then he fucks. Hard.

He grabs you by the hips and slams himself deep into your pussy, quickly settling into a brutal rhythm that leaves his thighs slapping hard against the curve of your ass. He punctuates every other stroke with a hard smack to your ass, too, leaving you raw and stinging.

It’s good. It’s so good this way. He bends over to bring his chest close to yours as he fucks you hard and fast, growling possessively in your ear. He snatches you by the hair when you try to lift your head, shoving your face back into the pillows and muffling your deep cries of pleasure.

Every hard thrust of his cock seems to reverberate through your entire body. At this angle, his tip nudges your cervix like a panic button. It sends shockwaves of pleasure over every nerve.

“That’s right,” he’s still babbling above you, breathless and panting, but forcing the words out anyway. “That’s right, sweetness, you’re fuckin’ mine. Nobody does this to you but me, baby, nobody. Gonna fuck you ‘till you scream. Gonna fuck you till you beg me to stop. Gonna fill you with so much of my fuckin’ cum, you’ll never forget who you belong to.”

Your climax draws closer by the moment. You’re trying to warn him, but he’s got you pinned fast. The pleasure looms inevitably over you, and you can’t stop the crest of the wave before it crashes over your trembling form.

You cum hard around him, your muscles squeezing and fluttering around his pounding cock. He gives a shout of surprise and fucks you double-time through your climax. As your high retreats he finds his, sliding an arm around your hips and sliding balls-deep before pleasure erupts along his spine and he pumps you full of slick cum.

When it’s over, he flips you onto your back. He pushes his cock inside you again despite your soft whines of sensation, pumping slowly in and out of you and watching the way his cum spills over as he fills you all over again.

“You got one more in you?” He pants.

“Baby,” you plead, overstimulated and spent. He slides his hands up your ribcage, thumbing your tight nipples.

“C’mon, sweetness. You can handle it. I know you got it in you.”

“One more,” you pant. You stretch your cramping legs out around his hips, toeing each one of your heels off behind you. He slides his palms all the way up your shoulders and down your arms, finding your wrists and pinning them tightly over your head.

“God damn,” he grunts, looking you over. Marred with the marks his teeth printed across your skin. Mottled with bruises already forming on your hips, your thighs, your throat.

“Look at you,” he purrs. He shifts your wrists into one hand and strokes the fingertips of his other over the bruises on your throat. He grins wickedly.

“Better make those worth your while.”

His palm lowers against your throat as his hips pick up speed again. He fucks you hard into the mattress beneath you. The ache in your hips is exacerbated by the sudden friction, but it’s cooled by the warm slick of his cum inside you.

Neither of you last long this time.

Your third orgasm of the night is tight and desperate, and you come down from your high shaking and straining against his hold.

“Not gonna… can’t hold on,” he warns. “Fuck, sweetness, fuck, baby, fuuuuuck-“

He collapses onto you as he cums, burying his hips into the apex of your thighs and pushing another fresh load into your belly. His cock stirs inside you as he shudders and finally goes soft against you. Spent at long last.

When he pulls his softening dick from your body, you’re well past overstimulated.

He’s fucked his temper out on you.

“Alright,” he rasps. “You’re okay, sweetness. C’mere.”

He rolls onto his side and settles a hand over your belly, rubbing slow and gentle as he peppers kisses along your shoulder. He gives your hand a squeeze and rolls out of bed, snagging his undershorts from the floor and climbing into them.

He goes quiet, when it’s time to take care of you. Sometimes you wonder if he feels guilty about using you like this. But you’ve talked about it. You stop him when you’ve had enough. You’re good at that.

He likes that you’re not afraid to stand up to him.

Bakugou wraps you in a blanket from the bed and carries you out to the living room, depositing you on the couch. He can keep an eye on you easily as he heads to the kitchen to get you a drink. It’s important to you that he stays close when you need him like this.

He kneels in front of you and slips his fingers under your heavy chin.

“Here we go, baby. C’mon. Drink it.”

He tilts a glass of cool tap water against your lips and you raise a hand to steady it, drinking down a few, steady gulps. You’re heavy and sex-drunk and sleepy, warming his bitter heart with the expressions that cross your hazy face.

“That’s it.”

He slides beneath you and pulls you-blanket and all- into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around you. Cradling your body with his. He leans down and settles his forehead over yours. His eyelashes brush your cheek. He lets out a deep, heavy sigh.

“You’re mine,” he mumbles to you, but it takes on a different meaning altogether when he says it like this. You’re mine, he’s telling you, and I’m gonna take care of you.

He finds your hand and brushes his thumb over the diamond ring that rests there. In truth, that’s all the proof he needs that you’ve signed up for him.

All of him.

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia #kinktober #jbbkinktober2020 #bakugo #mha bakugo katsuki #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic #boku no hero academia #bnha fanfic

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bloomyagi · 4 years ago

Text

beautiful, beloved, mine (m)

summary: you set him ablaze. he can only hope you like watching him burn for you. alternatively: this love for you is consuming him, and it all comes out in a badly vomited confession after he corners you at a gala.

pairings: shouto todoroki x f!reader

genre: pro heroes au, characters are aged up 20+

warnings: smut, dry humping, shouto comes in his pants, sub!shouto, he’s a good boi for you, he loves you very much n wants to be your baby

length: 2,447

notes: can u tell how much i love him pls -

“Can I be yours?”

Shouto Todoroki, ranked third pro-hero in Japan, has his strong arms braced around your head. In all your years of friendship, he has never been anything but exceedingly polite. He is well-behaved, thoughtful and sharp. He is guarded, though not intentionally, not anymore—it is reflex, a shield he has never really learned to lower. A reminder of his childhood.

You think he’s drunk. He must be, beautiful dual-coloured locks dishevelled, black button-up half-open and exposing his gorgeous collarbone. You watch, unwittingly, as a bead of sweat trickle down his neck. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, biceps flexing.

The dimmed lighting unfairly accosts you with his devastatingly handsome features and muscular body. And his eyes. His heterochromatic eyes are alight with something fierce and intense. They are also clear, glowing, almost, in the dark.

The two of you are somehow on the balcony, shut away from the rest of the world, the bass and the sounds of life fading in your little bubble until all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, the warmth of his breath, the heat of skin and the fluttering of your heart in your throat. The cement wall digs into your back.

No, you correct yourself. He isn’t drunk. He’s barely tipsy. He doesn’t like to drink, rarely acquiesces to Kirishima’s insistence of shots.

He doesn’t smell like alcohol. His scent has always been calming, detectable under the thin layer expensive cologne he uses—he doesn’t like perfumed smells either, only uses it on nights like these, when he’s obliged to look the part—that fresh, cool scent. Of clean sheets, laundry detergent.

Still, this is out of character. Todoroki has never once crossed a line with you, with anyone. He’s quiet, reserved, though he smiles more now, the forming dimples in the corner of his eyes a living testament to his character growth. He treats others fairly. He is not unkind, honest and straight-forward. He is many things, and with the way he’s gazing down at you now, you are suddenly reminded of Midoriya’s hushed remarks earlier.

“You can’t see it, but Todoroki-kun treats you differently. He thinks about you, what you’d like and what you like. He cares about you so he’s careful around you. He wants to cherish you. He’s cold because he uncertain. He doesn’t know what to do. This is all new to him.”

“What is?”

The number one pro-hero had looked at you strangely. “Being in love.”

Midoriya is indisputably Todoroki’s best friend. Still, his actions are baffling. Why you? Why now? No, you couldn’t see it at all.

“Todoroki, are you drunk?”

“No. Though I required a little … liquid courage, as they say,” he rasps. He’s so close. His voice, so deep and husky, has you biting your lower lip. His gaze falls immediately.

He doesn’t touch you. The way his arms flex, hands clenching and unclenching, and his stiff posture tells you he wants to. He’s visibly restraining himself. Waiting, watching. Hoping.

“You never … why me?” You say softly.

“I could not. I wanted to, so badly. I have always wanted you. I always thought it was impossible for someone like me—to find someone I would want to share my life with, given my upbringing and dysfunctional family. But then things changed, got better, and then I met you.” He takes a shaky breath.

“I found wordless comfort in your mere presence. I found I could be emboldened, empowered, changed by your words. Every day I wondered how I could be worthy of you—if I could ever be worthy of you. Then I realized it was you … it would not matter to you, so long as I was honest with who I was. That is just the kind of person you are …” He shuts his eyes. His lashes are so long, you note absently.

“I am touched by your existence … I find joy in your spirit, yearning for your embrace, for the heat of your skin pressed against mine, I crave it … these foreign desires, they elicit something dark within myself,” he continues, breathing a little ragged now.

“This need, this desperation, like fire spreading in my veins, uncontrollable and hungry … I feel restless, itching for something, someone … Now I finally understand. I feel like I want to—to devour you. It is no longer enough, seeing you as I do, being as we are, mere friends … I want more, need more. With this desire to monopolize, I fear I have become … insatiable,” he trails off, turning his face to the side in shame.

Oh. Shouto Todoroki is in love with you, you realize with a jolt. He longs for you. For your companionship, your wit, your soul and your body. Your heart.

You reach up with a trembling hand to touch his jaw, guiding him until he looked at you once more. He doesn’t resist, pliant and eager as he leans into your hold.

“Only if I can be yours in return,” you say.

He lurches forward, knees nearly giving out as he slumps in your arms. “Oh, thank god, I … I was anxious I would have ruined everything. I knew it was unlikely they would be reciprocated, but I—I had to try,” he gasps. “This desire, it was consuming me.”

“Todoroki …” You thumb his cheekbone. He sighs faintly, body curving over yours as he presses close. “Call me Shouto, please …”

“Shouto.” He makes a strangled noise.

“Again. Please. You must understand, I have longed for this for so long …” He pleads shyly.

“Shouto,” you whisper, stroking his cheek. He’s so unexpectedly adorable. So, so adorable.

“My apologies, darling. I know I’m taking liberties, but I’m weak … I’m not strong enough to resist such temptation. Not while you are here, in front of me like nights when I dared to dream… So beautiful.” He nuzzles your palm.

You flush at his term of endearment, at the rawness of his tone. He has laid himself bare, singing his truth like a Shakespeare sonnet.

“You woo me like you’re waxing poetry … does this often work with others?” You murmur. You think you’re in real danger of melting.

His eyes fly open in alarm. “No. Never. It has only ever been you. I speak only from the heart, I have never—never done this before, am I explaining myself poorly? I am often told my words could use some more tact …”

Your heart swells.

“I’m just teasing, Shouto,” you say softly, combing a hand through his locks apologetically. “Your words are beautiful, I’m touched, truly.”

He relaxes, curling closer in your embrace.

“You don’t know … how I dream of building a home with you, of sharing all my firsts with you, cooking and setting the table with you … breakfast after long nights, filling the space between us with laughter and joy. Sleeping next to you,” he slurs. And then he goes on plainly, “How I fist myself every night thinking of the swell of your hips, the curl of your lips, your sweet, enthralling scent …”

You inhale sharply. Part of you is entirely taken back by the dual-haired hero’s use of uncharacteristically vulgar descriptions. His words drip over you like a honeyed aphrodisiac. Sweet and addictive.

“May I?” He draws closer, hands releasing you to brace against the concrete behind. Your body shivers involuntarily, missing the heat of his palms immediately.

“Yes,” you whisper.

Shouto dips his head, beautiful heterochromatic eyes watching you carefully for any sign of hesitation or indication you wanted to stop. Ever the gentleman.

This is who he is, you realize. Respectful of your boundaries, honest and, with you, gentle. He eyes flutter close when his lips touch yours. They’re warm, sweet with a hint of the alcohol he consumed earlier. Your fingers bury themselves in his locks, the kiss unhurried, savouring each moment.

Then you open your mouth, tongue touching his. And Shouto falters. He groans throatily, your nose tickling at the scent of ash. Ah. He’s losing control. He jerks away quickly, right hand enclosing over his left.

“Don’t tempt me,” he rasps, blush rising.

You snag the rumpled collar of his shirt, pulling him close. “Kiss me again.”

And when you guide his hands over your hips, he grips them tightly and crushes his mouth against yours, kissing you hard. Spit runs down your chins, messy and sensual.

Something hard presses against your inner thigh. You push his legs apart and shove your leg in between. He chokes, eyes rolling back.

“Ngh—!” He gasps. “More—hngg—please!”

You pull back to survey him. He chases after you, lips slick and swollen.

“Shouto. You like this?”

He pauses, sucking in a breath sharply, eyes flickering. And then—

“Yes,” he whispers, a whisp of flame flaring on his left.

Your core clenches over nothing at his needy, humiliated tone.

“I like this too,” you confess, trailing a hand over the ridges of his abdomen, fascinated by the way the muscles clench.

Shouto mewls, chest thrusting forward when you pinch his nipples experimentally through the cotton. “Ah—ughh—yes!”

“Can you come like this?” You wonder absently as you twist his perked nubs harshly. He moans brokenly, hips jerking.

“I—I d-don’t—kno—hah,” he pants, eyes half-lidded as he struggles to focus. Pleasure clouds his senses, head fuzzy and vision hazy.

“Can you get off here, like this?” You ask softly. “I want to see you come undone.”

Shouto blinks blearily at you, nodding eagerly. “Hng—yes, wanna be good for you,” he slurs. Oh. My. If you weren’t dripping before, you certainly are now.

He stumbles a little as you push him against the wall, switching positions. He’s barely standing at this point, leaning heavily against the cement as he gazes up at you with glazed eyes. He looks utterly fucked out and utterly delectable.

You undo the remainder of his buttons, holding him back firmly when he whines, pawing at the fabric, wanting to rip it off.

“We still have to walk out of here,” you remind him, giggling. His only blinks at you blankly as if to say and? Too gone to think of the consequences.

“This view is reserved for my eyes only,” you murmur, nails scraping against his nipples. He gasps, back arcing. “Yes, yes!” He agrees mindlessly.

He grinds against your thigh desperately, the weight of his cock heavy and hot. He throbs at every touch.

“Kiss—kiss, please,” he whines, reaching for you. You oblige, internally fawning over his cuteness.

His hips move faster, chasing release as he moans and keens into your mouth.

He parts from you with a gasp and wet shlick. “Feels so good—sho good—hngg,” he babbles. His asymmetric temperatures intensify, the heat of his left searing you and the chill of the right piercing you.

“Oh—I’m—I’m c-cu—” he cries out, gripping you tightly as he fucks himself against your thigh urgently. You push your leg against him harder, nails digging into his stomach.

“Come for me Sho,” you murmur, biting his lower lip. His mouth parts in a silent wail, head tossing as his eyes roll. His body shudders, something warm seeping into the fabric of your jeans.

With a strangled groan, he sags against you, exhausted and spent. You stroke his hair soothingly, brushing back the sweaty locks and peppering chaste kisses over his face as he comes down slowly.

Faintly, you register someone calling your name.

“Oh, Midoriya. Over here.”

Shouto is too out of it, still coming down from his high, his soft moans tickling your ear

“Oh, there you are! Have you seen Todoroki-kun? I—oh!” He squeaks loudly, spinning on his heel immediately and covering his reddening face.

What a sight the two of you must be. A perfectly debauched Shouto, shirt falling over his broad shoulders, the fabric clinging to his glistening skin, raised lines over his bare chest that appear angrier in the darkened lighting, slumped over you, body trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm.

The One for All user pales when he spots the noticeable burn the size of a palm on the wall behind your head.

“Uh—neverminditwasn’timportanthahahaohsomeone’scallingmegottagobye!” Midoriya practically screams in your face before bolting from the scene in the next beat.

Shouto manages a tired chuckle as you blink in the wake of his dust.

“You’re surprisingly shameless,” you remark when you turn back to him.

His wry smile slips, letting out a weak mewl when you squeeze his cock over his slacks teasingly. He’s already chubbing up, hips rolling slowly against your touch.

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m insatiable when it comes to you, darling,” he murmurs, cheeks dusting.

“Then let’s continue,” you say, helping him stand. He valiantly tries to salvage whatever is left of his shirt, but it’s hopeless. He gives up, letting it drift apart, sculpted abdomen and chest in full view.

“Hmm. I quite like this view,” your palm rests on his stomach, smiling when he jolts at your warmth.

“My place or yours?” He breathes, pulling you flush to him.

“Yours, I think. I’ve been meaning to try out your new jacuzzi,” you rest your cheek against his chest, tracing nonsensical patterns on his pec. Goosebumps rise on his skin, and you can hear the rapid fluttering of his pulse. He’s—nervous?

“I built it for you,” he confesses, burying his face into your hair. “After you mentioned how much you wanted to try one, I thought—well, I don’t know what I thought. I only know that I went out the next day to hire a contractor and expand my bathroom. I suppose part of me nurtured a hope I’d one day pluck enough courage to ask you to come over and give it a try …”

You pull away, looking up at him in disbelief. He laughs dryly at your expression.

“Yes. I know. It sounds as irrational as it felt. I still haven’t used it yet.”

“Then …,” you hesitate. And then you say shyly, “Then if you’d like … we could try it today? Together?”

“I … yes, I’d love that,” Shouto swallows thickly.

You take his hand as the two of you start to make your way back. He squeezes your hand once.

“Let’s go home,” you say softly. The corner of his heterochromatic eyes crinkle, lips curling into a gentle beam. He looks radiant, beauty amplified by his dishevelled and unkept state. He leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Yes,” he says. “Let’s.”

#shoto x reader #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bnha imagines #mha imagines

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uweresaying · 3 years ago

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final goodbye - Shouto Todoroki x reader

In the dorms of UA high school, class 1-A had settled into their rooms for the night. Deku was probably up practicing his quirk, while Katsuki and Iida were probably fast asleep, like most of the class. It had been a long day of vigorous quirk training, pushing the limits of how far they could go. But here you were, wide awake, sitting out on the balcony of your dorm. You had a cig in one hand, and in the other, you held your worn copy of Fahrenheit 451. You had problems with falling asleep, especially since the LOV attack at summer camp, so most nights you would just end up in this exact position. As you read, you caught a glimpse of your door opening, and the air was knocked out of you when you saw the heterochronic eyes of one of your classmates looking back at you. You raised an eyebrow as you took another drag, watching him close the door behind him, and shuffle over to the glass door in front of you, taking his time to take in the scenery of your room. There he stood, the same plaid sweatpants he'd worn the first night in the dorms when Mina insisted you guys all hang out in the common room to celebrate "moving in with one another". That had been 2 years ago, so you had wondered whether or not they were the same pants, but let that thought exhale from your mind along with the cig smoke. "I thought you quit that shit." the boy said, inviting himself to lay down on the mini couch across from where you were sitting. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, rolling your eyes at him. "I did. for about a year and 5 months." you said, taking another drag and turning your attention back to your book. Shouto let out a heavy sigh, turning away from the sky to look at you. "You know, I didn't give that key to you. It's pretty rude for you to use it." you said, not looking up from your book. "What are you talking about y/n, you did give it to me. plus, you never asked for it back. It was a gift." You let another half-assed laugh escape your lips, looking over to him with a look of surprise. "No, I didn't give it to you. I gave it to the person that you used to be. You're a stranger to me." As you met his eyes, you could see the hurt your words had caused. if you weren't about to take another drag of your cig, you would have probably smiled, but your drag was cut short when a firm hand grabbed the smoking stick from your mouth and put it out with his right hand. "Hey! What the fuck, do you know how hard it is to find a pack of-" "menthols around here?" he cut you off to finish. You felt your cheeks warming up as he sat down on the floor against the railing, looking up at you. Words were swimming in your head. You were angry. You wanted to slap him. But you also wanted to jump into his arms. Hold him close and let his strong form wrap around you and indulge in the safety only he could provide you. But instead, your muscles were stiff, water forming in your eyes, your face betraying you by letting him see a hurt expression start to cross it. "I don't know what you want from me." you finally uttered out, looking down at your chipped toenails that were crossed in your chair. "I want you to lie to me and tell me that the person looking back at me wasn't created because of the hurt I caused." he said, drawing your eyes back to him. You laughed a little, rolling your eyes before licking your lips and looking up at him again. "Well, I'm not a good liar, so I think you're shit out of luck." you said, making him smile a little. "Yeah, a good liar has never been high on your resume. I remember when you came to my dorm reeking of whiskey, thinking you had convinced me you hadn't been drinking with Mina and Ochako." he said, letting a small smile cross his lips. You smiled too, leaning back and looking up at the sky. "Yeah, and you bitched them out for encouraging me to drink on a school night while all three of us were hungover." you said, watching a plane fly by in the distance. You both sat in silence for a bit, in fact, you had let your eyes fall shut, just enjoying the sounds of nighttime. "I never meant to act the way I did." he

said, causing you to look at him, a lazy look over your face, before rolling your eyes and looking back up at the sky. "It's all water under the bridge at this point. It happened. I let it, and you go." you lied. "It honestly surprises me you feel anything about me, let alone remorse for how you treated me." you said, beginning to feel fed up with this surprise visit you knew shouldn't have been allowed in the first place. "Y/n, I felt a lot of things, I just didn't know how to express them, I didn't know-" "How to communicate your feelings. Look, I know okay. I preached that shit to everyone who tried to talk shit about you when I was sobbing my eyes out to them, trying to figure out what the fuck I had done wrong." you said, your mind not able to stop your mouth before it was too late. Shouto looked at you, and he looked hurt, but he also looked, to you, pathetic. "And you know what, I treated you fucking amazing. I got clean for you. I stopped smoking weed and cigs and stopped drinking, I worked on my quirk that you insisted I was 'throwing away', and worked my ass off to get good grades that I didn't give a shit about until you. I had gotten better. I was doing amazing. and then out of nowhere, you break up with me." you said, letting your words sink in before continuing, "And you know, at first, I was sad, but figured we could have somewhat of a good friendship. I fully intended to continue to get good grades and be the little perfect angel that I expected myself to be to feel like i was enough for you, but then you pretended I didnt exist. You acted like even looking in my direction would kill you. And don't even get me started with you saying you had been thinking about leaving me for two weeks before you actually did it." you said, tears spilling from your eyes, but you kept your voice and face stern. "So don't. just please don't. Just let me live, Shouto. You had no right to come here tonight. You should have thrown that damn key in the trash just like you did with me." you spat, not even bothering to look at him. You knew you'd regret everything you said if you saw him hurt by it, and you didn't want to apologize. All you had wanted since he broke up with you was for him to feel even a fraction of the pain you had felt. But your eyes wandered to him anyway. He was looking at you, dumbstruck. "What?" you spat, more hot tears streaming down your face. He said nothing as he stood, and pulled the key from his pocket, a chain attached to it, with a familiar locket clanking against the key as he held it out to you. Your eyes were blurry from the tears, and you were frozen as he set the chain in your hand. Before he left, he choked, saying, "You're right. You deserve to be allowed to move on. I'm sorry I came." He then kissed the top of your head, before walking back in, leaving you alone once more. You pulled the necklace out from under your shirt, the same locket from his key necklace around your neck. You poped the two of them open and out them side by side. Inside were pictures, in his, was your smiling face with his arms around you, and in yours, the same picture, only the other half, with him smiling with your arms around him. on the opposite side, carved into the gold medal in small letters, the words "私の愛" stared back at you.

*bonus*

only 10 minutes after Sho had left, you found yourself curled up in your bed, sobbing into your pillow, tugging the sleeves of the old sweatshirt he had given you months prior, closer, before eventually drifting off.

#angst imagine #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #shouto x y/n #mha x y/n #mha x you #boku no hero academia #todoroki shoto #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki angst #shouto angst #mha angst

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years ago

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Mc gets stabbed and shows up to vincas house only having the strength to say hey before collapsing?! And vincas thoughts while she has to take care of her can you write this please?

Combined with: Can you do vinca POV of swm mc almost dying? Maybe she got stabbed or something and they had to rush her to the hospital? Written by @cute-ogre

Warning: Mention of blood.

...

Vinca's day was going well. She helped Yvette with a new trick for the show, beat the shit out of some demons that had started to behave a little bit unruly and saved the world from another potentially-apocalyptic situation, insulted a gross man that was being creepy towards Trudy and threatened him with endless torture. And now, she is having her sacred skin care routine time.

Overall, it was a great Thursday, calm and smooth, even.

For her standards anyway.

That is until someone decided to knock her door down with their bare fists.

“I'm coming!”

Vinca sighs, putting her moisturizer down and making her way to the door, preparing herself for what could be behind it.

Nothing good ever comes from someone knocking at you door this late.

And she is right, of course she is, because what she found on the other side of it was beautiful, sweet, brown eyes looking at her with pain. And a pale face covered in blood that made the Pride assassin stop in her tracks, eyes widening with shock.

“What the hell happened to you?!”

“Hey...”

Nico whispers, attempting a smile, and starts so sway a little bit, almost collapsing just as Vinca rushes forward to hold her by the shoulders, scanning the girls face with laser focus.

“Nico! Come on! What happened to your head?”

The girl just mumbles something, taking deep breaths and trying to get her balance back.

“I... may need some help?”

“Oh, really?!”

The blonde holds her chin and tries to analyze the head injury as best as she can in the dim light of the corridor and is relived to see it was just a shallow cut, she tries to direct the girl into the apartment, until another thing catches her eye, a blood patch in her torso, hidden by her hoodie and a bloodied hand holding a knife there.

For a second everything stops, the despair punching her in the chest with a oppressing force that makes her feel weak. She balances herself on the doorway, taking a deep breath, and try to lock eyes with the small woman. When she does, she is only able to say one stiff sentence.

“Stay calm, everything is gonna be okay.”

It's not exactly the most comforting thing to say to a person in a situation like this, but then she doesn't quite know if she is saying that for Nico's benefit or for hers.

She screams for Yvette, the woman appearing from inside her room with her cane in hand, taking a quick wide eyed look at the scene for a heartbeat before adopting a determined expression and rushing back inside, throwing one last look at Vinca over her shoulder.

“I'm driving.”

The whole ordeal to get the bike mechanic to the garage and inside her car was just a blur, they had to be careful with the injury since any wrong movement could make it worse. Vinca was on the back seat with her, trying to make pressure on the wound, and keep the Chinese woman awake.

“You are going to be alright, okay? Soon they will patch you up and you will be as good as new, you will see.”

Nico hesitates, then nods a little. Blood slowly dipping from the wound and falling on the car seat, her eyes unfocused as she gives a slow answer that is barely audible.

“...didn't have that big of a blood loss...The head wound probably looks way uglier than it is.”

She pauses for a little bit, shivering, pushing her bangs out of her eyes, and when Vinca rushes to clean the sweat from her forehead with her free hand, she smiles weakly.

She is toning it down,trying to comfort me.

Vinca realizes, throat suddenly dry.

She keeps her hand on the woman's cheek, caressing the cold skin softly.

I can't freak out now

She looks even paler now, the blonde notices, seeing the repressed, labored breaths and how the shorter woman keeps her free hand wrapped firmly against something.

The locket.

Vinca realizes, with a gasp, feeling a numbness start to take possession of her body, her chest tightening with horror. Nico seems to take notice of her reaction, eyes darting from the locket to the shining blue eyes in front of her.

“The demon...thing. Wanted it... and my blood...” She pauses for a second, blinking a little, as if she had forgotten what she was talking about “...they didn't ask nicely.”

It's my fault. I did this. I shouldn't have trusted demons to keep her safe, I should be there protecting her myself.

Taking a deep breath, Vinca adjusts the tick blanket on top of Nico's tights, and tries to keep the storm inside of her at bay. Grabbing the locket that was being offered to her and shoving it into her purse more aggressively than necessary.

“Shhh, that's not important right now, you are.”

“...who knew...you were such a good nurse, huh?”

Vinca's eyes dart to the woman's face at the barely understandable speech, noticing that her lips are now painted with a slight shade of blue.

Fucking hell, that's not good.

Yvette's eyes meet hers in the mirror, equally worried as she makes the last turn,the hospital coming into view. And, as if sensing it, Nico's body goes slack, not even Vinca's hysterical little shake drawing a reaction.

Oh, so this is what pure despair feels like. Great.

She presses her finger to her neck, finding a slow pulse.

“Oh no, don't you dare die on me, you brat.”

Getting the barely conscious woman into the hospital was fast with the help from the hospital staff, and Vinca almost rushed into the O.R with her before being stopped by a nurse that the blonde vaguely remembers having threatened before being pushed by Yvette into a uncomfortable plastic seat.

The doctor - that she also may or may not have threatened - appears three or four hours later, but it could also be five or six, the pride assassin doesn't quite remember, or care. What she does know is that she talked with Yvvete, and that the blood in her hands is already dry and that there's a ugly mismatched change of clothes brought by Trudy siting in her lap in a plastic bag.

The woman in a white coat talks about things like "blood loss", "shock" and "internal bleeding".

Which is just great. Nothing like a little blood where blood isn't supposed to be.

But what really catches her attention is the words "stable", "should be able to make a full recovery" and "You be able to visit her in two hours or so"

The Pride assassin closes her eyes with a tiny relived sight, hearing Trudy's exited commemoration and the tsunami of inquisitive questions coming from Yvette's lips. She gets up slowly, nodding in the doctor's direction and ignoring the worried looks from her friends as she smiles at them and claps her hands.

“Well, now that I know that everything is fine, If you don't mind, I will just go wash the bloody gooe gooe from me.”

She turns around without waiting for a answer, and with a fast, firm pace she gets to the bathroom washing her hands slowly and staring at her own unbothered face on the mirror.

With a calming breath she enters one of the stalls, and just then, hidden from everyone, she gives herself permission to think about what happened, a building pressure behind her eyes.

If I cry now, I will still be able to smile when I see her.

#anonymous #answered #lovestruck #lovestruck fanfiction #vinca wren #vinca x mc #sin with me #swm #swm vinca #sin with me vinca #light angst #slight angst

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i-am-infinite · 4 years ago

Text

Guilt (Part 1): The Rescue

(Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Fem!Reader)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Slight Chpt 12 and 13 spoilers. Read at your own risk.

Description: Moff Gideon has found someone else to run his experiments on and word gets back to Din. Will he take his son far away and try and find somewhere safe? Or will the guilt of an innocent being put in his son’s place eat away at him? (No Y/N or ___ used)

Word Count: Slightly over 4K

Warnings: Mentions of blood and needles. Broken glass. Fainting. Blood loss. Canon type violence. Possible bad writing (first fic pls go easy on me). If I’m missing anything please let me know, I’ve never done one of these before.

A/N: This is my first fanfic I’ve written so it might be really bad but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head so here it is. I also made up a planet/system and don’t know if star wars has alarm clocks but i wrote it in anyway. I also wrote this in Word first and then realized I couldn’t copy it over so I tried my best to type it over in here.

Normal. That is what was used to describe your life. Nothing out of the ordinary. Life wasn’t boring per se, but it definitely wasn’t compelling enough for your tastes. Studying to be a healer help keep it somewhat interesting but not enough.

Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Crust littered eyes creak open as your face unsticks from the textbook scattered across the desk. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Your stiff neck cracks as you finally sit up. Fell asleep studying again. You loved learning about healing, you really did. But the long nights and barely sleeping was enough to make your head explode. Looking over at the clock with bright red numbers blinking at you. 8:15.

8:15! I’m late! You think as you force yourself awake. No not again! Being a student means you need to do hands on hours down at the nearest medcenter. All the late night studying also means that you oversleep most days. Grabbing your work bag filled with a change of clothes, in preparation of these events, you run out the door.

Your feet hit the wet cobble stones as it echos through your little part of the city. Vendors lining up the street ready to start their days. Passing the shop you went to yesterday, your mind too preoccupied to notice that it’s empty today. You know that theres is a faster route to the medcenter, but is it a path you really want to take today? Dark and windy path that you can barely see five feet in front of you on mornings like this. Too foggy and muggy for your liking. You’d rather stick to the main road where there’s people, where if anything were to happen, people would see, they would know. Regardless, it shaves fifteen minutes off your commute. You loathe having to be late for another shift. Making the sharp turn in between tow booths, you pace quickens to get through as quickly as you can. While not having much visibility, you swear you can see a pair of eyes in the dark. Has to just be my imagination, you convince yourself, I just need to keep going. It’ll be fine.

Footsteps echo behind you. Hands grab your shoulders. A scream rises in your throat, but no sound comes out. Everything goes dark when you feel something hit the side of your head.

Sigh. “Grogu get back in your seat.” The little baby waddles down off the controls and into his father’s lap. “Not what I meant,” Din grumbles with a smile hidden under his helmet. He grabs Grogu by his little robe and places him in the seat to his right and tells him to buckle up as a holo comes through from Greef Karga.

“Mando, we’ve just got word that Moff Gideon might have been seen in the Braic system. It looks like they found a substitute for the baby for the time being. I would use this time to go find a hide-out and lay low. He could still come back for the little one. Be well,”

Din goes to start the ship and find coordinates to stay out of trouble for a while when he hears the baby whine. Looking back at his adoptive child, all Din can see is Grogu, then a nameless kid, lying unconscious on a metal table, trapped underneath a contraption. Din starts breathing heavy and feeling sick that he ever gave his son up to those Imps. All he can hear is the beeping of the machine he’s hooked up to. Anger boiling back to the surface as he hears himself yell at the doctor all over again in his memories. No, he tells himself, He’s here with me. He’s fine. He’s safe. He shakes himself out of it and goes to fly the Razor Crest off planet.

Before he even gets off the planet, all Din can think about is that innocent person in his son’s place. They were going to kill Grogu, just for his blood for their experiments. Din can’t bring the kid anywhere near those people, he can’t risk losing his family, not when both of them have formed such attachments to each other. But he can’t stop thinking of this person who is in the that position now. He should’ve made sure Gideon was dead. Because of that now more people are going to get hurt.

Without thinking he turns on his holo already asking, “Where is he taking them?”

Feeling groggy with heavy eyes, you are able to open them just a bit to a blinding light. Reluctantly closing them again, you lift your arm to rub your eyes, but only they don’t move. What? The rest of your senses start coming back and you can feel the cool metal against your back, the same metal wrapped around your wrists and your ankles attached to the table. Finally bracing the light and opening your eyes, lifting your head slightly off the table and oh no the room is spinning now. There is an IV in your arm drawing your blood out into some odd machine, explaining the dizziness. Second time in two days you’ve had to deal with your own blood.

Walking through the shops on your one day off, you pick up a flower hair pin. The glasswork is so intricate and entrancing, you can’t help but turn it over and over in your hands. A pearl bead sitting in the center of iridescent gray and white petals. Placing it back in its place, your had scrapes against another glass design that is not yet finished, slashing open your palm. “Oh, dear let me help you with that,” the lady running the stand says. She looks you with her white hair barely covering her forehead. Tattoos liter her arms. A design peaks your interest as you swear you know but can’t quite place.

“It’s fine, I can take care of it myself,” you state already inspecting your hand. No shards in it so thats good.

“Oh no I insist. It happened at my booth, let me help clean it,” she declares taking your hand in her own. It feels like she squeezes the wound causing you to wince in pain slightly. Knowing she should just be cleaning it and wrapping it, you’re a little confused. Maybe she just doesn’t know how to tend to these sort of things, not wanted to embarrass her at her stand, you keep quiet. She finally gets a clean rag to help blot away at the blood on your hand. You didn’t think anything of it at the time, but it appears she has put it in a bag to the side.

“I don’t have any gauze to help wrap it up,” the stand lady says.

“Oh, don’t worry, I have plenty of my own,” you mention, “It will be fine until I make it back to my place.” Smiling you walk away. Without looking, you can feel her move the piece you cut your hand on into the bag. Must just be because it’s a dangerous piece, you think, not knowing there’s still some of your blood on it too.

Closing your eyes again, you try to wonder why that is so significant to you right now. It was a harmless thing in passing, so why is it at the forefront of your mind? You are strapped to a table and all you can think about is that little cut you got the day prior. If your head didn’t feel like it was a spinner top right now, you would have laughed. Opening your eyes again you see men all in white armor and helmets guarding the door to your room, while a man in a white coat is working on the machine where your IV is attached. I thought the empire was dead. The same symbol that keeps going through your mind is the same one sewn into the man’s white coat. Your breathing gets shallower as you feel the panic rise in your chest. I’m never getting out of here, you realize as your vision becomes black once again.

You’re losing a lot of blood. You know that. You can feel it when noise wakes you up and your eyelids feel like lead. All the noise is muffled, as if you’re underwater. Frankly it feels like you are. It would be so easy to let the waves of darkness just wash over you right now, to let the water take you under. No, you can’t give up the fight and drown into unconsciousness just yet. You force yourself to stay awake.

Barely getting your eyes open, bright red lights flood your vision. You imagine you’re still in bed, or at least asleep at your desk, with the alarm clock blaring, not here with blaster fire. Wait, blaster fire? You attempt to turn your head to the side to look, or to dodge, you aren’t to sure in your current state. The fast action causes you to feel like you’re spinning, or it might be the room, either way your eyes can’t focus on what is going on. Closing your eyes again to make it stop, you hear voices surrounding you. They sound so far away at the moment but finally, after what feels like ages, one voice sounds clearer.

“Please help us. Help us get out of here. Her m-counts aren’t nearly as high as the child’s. They’re demanding more blood. She’s already lost 2 liters, I don’t know how much longer she can last.”

Child? They wanted to do this to a child? You’d choke down a sob if you could just thinking of that poor baby. What did he even say about what-counts? What the hell are those? All these questions are making your head spin more and more. Taking most of your energy to open your eyes, you’re met with a chrome stormtrooper trying to unbind you. Wait no, not a stormtrooper. You’ve heard stories about him and his people. What were they called? For the life of you, you can’t remember right now.

“You’re going to need help getting her out of here,” you realize that the man in the whit coat was the one who spoke before and is now pleading with the metal man, “Please Mandalorian take me with you and I’ll help you get her out of here.”

That’s it. He’s a Mandalorian. He gets your wrists free as the doctor takes the IV out. Pushing off the table to sit up, the world starts spinning again. You don’t even realize you’re about to hit the table again until the Mandalorian grabs your shoulders to keep you semi-upright. You hear some sort of static come from his helmet. “Fine.” he grumbles, “help me get her out of this thing.”

With a flip of a switch, the rest of your body is free from restraints. Eager to get out of there, you swing your legs over the edge of the table, hands finding the arms of the Mandalorian with his hands still on your shoulders. Nauseous and woozy, you try to use the cold metal of his pauldron to ground yourself, to get the room to stop spinning. He can see you start to sway and wraps his arms around your waist as he lowers you from the table. Your feet hit the floor and black dots start to cloud your vision. Blood pounding in your ears trying to tell you to stop and lie back down. Muffled voices come from beside you again as you feel another arm wrap around you from the other side. Your feet dragging against the floor as both men on either side of you go towards the door.

You feel the heavily armored man to your left let go. Eyes that are still fuzzy and unfocused sort of see him peak out the door with his blaster drawn. He leaves the room and all that can be heard is the pew pew pew of blaster fire. Vision start to come back the tiniest bit, you can see him standing in the door way waving his hand as to say Come on.

The three of you hurry as fast as you can down the corridor to get to an exit. Lots of twists and turns, just for you all to come up at a dead end. So much for rescuing, you think to yourself as the doctor still holding you up, leans you up against a pillar as the two of them survey the situation. More of the Mandalorian assessing the situation and the doctor just frantically pacing back and forth.

Sitting down now that the adrenaline of being kidnapped and “rescued” die down, you feel your breathing getting shallower and harder to breath. Eyelids getting heavy again. You just want to lay down and go to sleep, hoping that will fix things. Starting your descent from your upright position to close your eyes, two hands grab your shoulders and jerk you up. It takes a second to realize this modulated voice was talking you you. “Hey, you got to stay with me now,” he pleads, one hand going to the side of your face. Pain spreads across your features due to being struck there earlier, a bruise starting to form in its place. Pulling his hand away like seeing the your face contorted burned him, he continues, “I’m going to get you out of here, you just have to stay awake.” You open your mouth to speak, but your throat feels like it’s filled with sand from Tattooine, so you just weakly nod your head yes. “Okay good,” the shiny man says after letting out a deep breath.

Still holding your shoulders, he helps you stand up and tells the doctor to take you and go further down the hall. Taking something small and circular out of his belt and placing it on the far wall, he speed walks back toward you two. It starts blinking red as his arms come and cage both of you in. Peeking over his shoulder, you see the wall disappear. Well explode, but one second ago it was there and now it’s not. When the explosion first rings in your ears, you reflexively reach out for the Mandalorian’s arm and feel him tense under your touch.

When he deems it safe to move again, letting go of his arm, he hops over the rubble to the outside world, blaster drawn. Looking out you think it looks like a desert, but one you’ve never seen before. You have no idea where you are, even what planet you are on. You eyes go to where the chrome man is stalking towards. It seems he found two speeder bikes that the troopers use, sans the troopers. Your feet hit the gravel and you realize you aren’t wearing shoes anymore. How long was I out? You begin to question when you see a stormtrooper take aim at your rescuer. Right when he pulls the trigger, you reach your hand out and scream, “NO!”

You could’ve sworn it was going to hit him. It should’ve hit him. But at the last second it bent and went in another direction. You knew stormtroopers were bad shots, but nothing like that has ever happened. The Mandalorian whips around at your scream and shoots the trooper down. He goes back to what he originally planned to do, but not without turning to you. You see his chest plate heave up and down a few times before turning back around. After a beat, the only sound you can hear is the Mandalorian starting up the speeders and your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The doctor helps guide you to the bikes and as you’re about to get on behind him, the Mandalorian picks you up bridal style and sits on his own respective bike. You make a noise of discontent at the sudden action and are then seated in front of him, yet again caged in by his arms with your legs draped over one of his. You can hear him breathing through the modulator as he states, “Just in case you pass out again. Can’t have you falling off the back of the bike.” You go to adjust how you are sitting when he takes off.

Gasping in shock, you hug your arms around his neck with you head in his cowl as you take panicked breaths. His hand touches your back as you hear him shout over the noise of the engines, “Put your legs around me, you’re slipping off.” He holds your waist as you sling your right leg around and hook it with your left one behind his back. Not the position you thought you’d end up in as a blush creeps up on your face, but neither the less here you are. His hand lets go of your waist and back to the handlebars as he steers.

Suddenly getting the feeling like you’re being followed, you say into his neck cowl, “Go left!” You don’t know why, but you just get a gut feeling to go that way. He follows your lead, not without a brief hesitation. The doctor follows on his speeder in the same direction. Finally looking up you see two stormtroopers in the distance. I wish their speeders would just stop or something, you plead with yourself and you think back to what happened with the blaster. Testing the waters, you unhook one of your hands from Mando’s neck and hold it out and... nothing. Okay focus, you close your eyes and picture their speeders stopping, or malfunctioning, or anything at this point.

The sound of a crash comes ringing into your ears. Opening your eyes, you can see the troopers flip over their handlebars as if their engines just died. You slightly chuckle to yourself as your eyelids feel heavy again. You try to get them to stay open, but sleep just feels so much better at the moment. And with that, you’re out like a light.

Din feels you go limp against him. His arm once again going to grab you by your waist to keep you in place. He wills his speeder to go faster, to get back to the Razor Crest sooner as he’s panicking thinking he somehow made the situation worse. He exposed you on the bike by having you sit like this. Your arms, legs, and head were all exposed to possible blaster fire. Have you been hit? He heard a crash but couldn’t look back without moving you more, risking leaving you more unprotected. His blame for himself spirals as his grip on you grows tighter. He can’t explain why he’s so distraught over a stranger, but still every time he blinks, he swears he sees back on that table. The next time he swears he sees his son on that very table again. First he gave the kid up to those people, now he didn’t finish Gideon off and let you, an innocent stranger who he is now clutching onto for dear life, get in the crossfire. Too many people have gotten hurt because of this. Because of him. He needs to make it right.

Finally Din and Dr. Pershing arrive at the Razor Crest where Din is already lowering the hatch and carrying you in. Kicking some crates together, he gently lowers you down onto this makeshift bed. He uses his thermal setting to see your body temperature, to see how you are recovering from the blood loss. He isn’t thrilled to see it still low, you were getting your energy back slowly before, along with more body heat, bit not enough to Din’s liking. Turning his helmet to Pershing, the doctor says, “She’s going to need more blood.” Din, already standing ready to run out and get some, not even knowing where or how to do that, is stopped by Pershing telling him that he’ll go get it, that it would look less suspicious. Agreeing, Din sits by your side while using his comm-link to tell Greef that he could bring Grogu back to the ship. How Din always finds someone to babysit still surprises him.

You wake up with a start. Eyes not yet adjusted to the lights overhead. Looking down you can see an IV in your arm again. Now towards the side, you can see the same doctor from before asleep up against a wall. Please tell me it wasn’t a dream, tears well up in your eyes as you think you’ve made the whole thing up to cope. It wasn’t until you felt your hand come to wipe away your watery eyes that you realized it just might not be a dream. The IV isn’t taking blood this time, it’s giving it.

Finally looking around, you realize you’re on a ship that feels like it’s moving. Confused by this, you try and sit up. Not nearly as dizzy as before, you slowly swing your legs off the wooden crates you’re lying on. Noticing your still barefoot as a chill gets sent up to your spine by the cold metal floor, you grab your IV bag off what appears to be just a hook poorly attached to the ceiling. You venture around the small area of the ship, noticing there isn’t a lot besides these boxes and what appears to be two storage type of units. You don’t even tempt to look in, too intrusive. You do however see a ladder going higher up on the ship. Taking the IV out and ripping a piece of your shirt off to wrap around your arm for pressure, so you can use both hands to climb, you start your ascent up.

Once you finally reach the top, you hear cooing? Didn’t that doctor say something about a child earlier? Looking forward into the cockpit, you see your savior flying while looking to his right at one of the co-pilot chairs. Clearing your throat to get his attention, two little eyes peer at you from the seat. A bright smile appears on this little green things face and you can’t help but stifle a laugh because its ears are the size of his body.

Distracted by this cute baby, you don’t notice the way the Mandalorian swivels his chair to face you. Finally looking at the man who saved you today, your breath hitches. You don’t know how to thank him for what he did, so you sort of just stand and stare for a second. He stands up and lightly grabs your arm with your homemade bandage on it. Tilting his helmet to the side you hear static coming from it. Did he just sigh at you? “You were supposed to keep it in your arm,” he finally states, with a tinge of annoyance.

Eyes not wanting to meet the T of his visor, you direct your gaze to the ground. “ I jus- I-,” you stammer, not able to find the right words. “Thank you.” It comes out more hushed than you’d like, but he still hears you. He just gives you a slight nod before releasing his arm and heading back to his seat. All your muscles turn to stone as you stand there not knowing if you should leave or not, until he cocks his head towards the seat to his left. On shaky legs you find your way to the seat. Before even sitting down fully, the little green child is already trying to get into your lap. Giggling to yourself you let him up onto your lap.

Once you do the strangest thing happens. You can feel what he’s thinking, his emotions, his past. How he was trained with the special abilities, much like the ones you just displayed before. How he was scared and in hiding until the man sitting in front of you found him. How he thinks of him as a father, his dad. Your chest tightens at that one. Still confused as to why the same people who wanted this child, Grogu, for his powers, also wanted you, you pull him to your chest to comfort you both. You finally speak up again and ask, “Did they want me because I might have the same abilities as this one?” You meant it to sound strong, but it just came out sounding weak.

Without looking at you, the Mandalorian replies shortly after a pause, “Yes.” You swore you can see his grip tighten on the ships steering as he says that. Turning to the two of you finally, he says in the sincerest voice you’ve heard out of him, “They wont get to either of you again. I can promise you that.” Your chest swells at this statement and Grogu looks up at you with a smile as if he felt the way your heart fluttered. You wish you were the one wearing the helmet right now because you can feel your cheeks heat up. To ease the situation in the best way you can, awkwardly, you clear your throat before asking, “So where are we headed now?”

Swiveling back in his chair to hit a few buttons, you’re confused not knowing what they are supposed to do until he pulls up a map and points a place out. He tells you that he’s going to drop off Dr. Pershing at one of the squiggles you see and then try and figure it out from there. “So, I guess thats where I get off too?” You meant it to come out more as a statement than a question, but after what you just went through, you’d rather not be left to fend for youself.

“If that’s what you want,” he finally utters after a while. “ But they’re not going to stop coming after you. Either of you. It might be safer for you to stay here with me, us.” The last part comes out so quiet, it’s almost as if he didn’t want you to hear, out of fear of your response.

Trying to not answer too quickly, you take a deep breath and finally say, “Yes. I’d like that a lot.” With a curt nod, he turns back around. Warmth fills your chest yet again at this stranger’s kindness. It’s just because I have the same abilities as his child, you try to convince yourself. But deep down you’re hoping it’s more than that. The child in your lap grips your fingers tightly and coos, as if he’s trying to tell you your hopes might not be too far off.

Oh, it’s going to be an interesting adventure with these two, you smile to yourself.

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help-im-a-gay-fish · 4 years ago

Text

It's A Long Road to Recovery.

(post Dark-Cream story)

"How's the water my Love? " Cross asked, dipping the tips of his fingers into the bath.

"perfect" Dream replied sinking slightly deeper into the water. The warmth wrapped around his bones and felt amazing on all the aches and pains.

"you got it just perfect"

The guard smiled wide "I'm glad to hear that, soak as long as you want, you deserve it"

The two had returned to the place they called home and Cross had drawn his beloved a bath. If Cross had it his way, he would have attempted to create a full spar treatment to pamper the bruised guardian. However, Dream had been more then happy to have something simple and the way he sighed as he relaxed in the water filled Cross with warmth.

It was so good to be home, even if it was mostly just a void with some rooms and things, it felt like home now. Though Cross wondered, with no anti sanses did that mean that him and Dream could settle down? They were engaged after all.

That thought make him smile wider. it had definitely been a long journey, but now that it was over him and Dream could finally be together. A family.

The gloopy mass had mostly washed off him now, though his joints where not completely free of it. Sadly, the lack of gloop now revealed just how damaged Dreams body was. There where huge cracks running across many of his bones and many bruised and stained areas. Then there was his eye.

Cross was trying hard not to look at it, but he didn't want Dream to know he was. Of course Dream was still beautiful, he always would be, but that didn't make it easy.

The wound was large and caused Cross to think about how it must have felt for him during the transformation. He hadn't seen the whole thing, but the sounds of Dreams bones splitting and his cries of agony became present in his mind whenever he looked at the eye.

It made him shudder to think of the pain he must have, and still was in.

"how's the" he started glancing away "the.... Eye?"

Dream sat up a bit.

"it's fine.... Mostly numb really"

He could sense his partners concern and didn't want to tell him the whole truth. It was painful and throbbed slowly, especially when touched. It threaten to hurt for a long time, not that it was a punishment he didn't deserve.

As soon as he was done in the bath he'd have to bind it.

Dream felt no shame in Cross being there while he bathed. He knew he wanted to stay in the water for a few hours, and those where hours that he wanted to spend with Cross. So therefore he'd asked Cross to join him.

The guardian stretched, wincing slightly as his back bones slid together. It ached and probably would for quite a while.

He pressed his fingers into the crook of his elbow joint, sighing in relief as more of the gloop stuck there gave way. The slime had dried and jammed up most of his joints, making him feel stiff and useless. It would take hours to clean, but it seemed like the warm water was helping it give way.

Taking a breath, he ducked his whole head and body under the water. Laying there under it for a few moments to soak, before resurfacing for air.

There was a trickle as Cross continued to flick the surface of the water with his fingers. Dream lent forward to shake the water from his skull and felt a sharp pain in his back. It didn't last very long but it was quite a surprise so it caused him to suck in air quickly through his teeth. Cross looked up straight away.

"Dream!?"

Dream took a breath and slowly moved his body back so he was lent against the bath again. The pain stopped.

"j-just moved to fast.... It will be fine, Nightmare said the first day was the most painful"

"right" Cross said, still concerned but with a slightly harder tone. "Rest...."

"I will Crossy, if Night was able to run, I'll be able to take care of myself" Dream replied, trying to sound reassuring.

He scooped up some of the bubbly foam from the waters surface in his hand and blew it in Cross' direction. Cross batted it with his hand in a playful cat-like fashion.

Dream smiled, seeing Cross acting playfully with him, it had been a long time since they'd been able to just exist as a couple. He would have continued to blow bubbles at him, but an intrusive thought ruined the momentary joy and it made him freeze.

" ¿Estaba él en este dolor?" he asked quietly. Cross glance sideways at him.

"hm?"

"Nightmare..." Dream clarified "......was he....is he in this pain?" Cross sighed.

"Dreamboat, you need to focus on your own recovery" he said, once again flicking the bath water with his fingers, though slightly more aggressively.

His tone was firm and slightly bitter "I know you worry, but he has Killer"

Shifting his legs around a bit, Dream sighed. He knew his partner was right, he shouldn't let himself worry about Nightmare to much, they would be in contact in a few days.

Yet he just couldn't help it. If he was in this bad of shape after a few months, then how bad would it be for Night after hundreds of years.

"but what if he-

-just drop it!"

Startled at Cross' tone, Dream flinched slightly. He wasn't used to Cross speaking to him like that and he didn't like it.

He narrowed his good eye at him and the soldier sheepishly looked away. Dream sensed shame from him, but also anger. His emotions were a mess.

"sorry i just meant-

-You're still thinking about what he did to you....."

Cross' shoulders tensing confirmed to Dream that he was right. His expression softened.

"Cross..."

"it's not just what he put me through" he said, still avoiding Dreams gaze "it's what he did to you... And heaven....." his voice trailed off and his eyes watered slightly.

Dream felt his soul twist as the memories flooded in. Feeling suddenly very cold, he lowered his legs deeper in the water.

Cross squeezed his eyes shut and shook the tears away. Before opening his mouth to keep speaking, but closing it again.

"oh.. Cross" Dream said, reaching forward in an effort to comfort him. But he soon lowered his arm when Cross continued to speak.

"I know he's your brother... And I know you want to reconnect with him...." he swallowed and turned back to his lover. "I'm not gonna stop you... And I'm not going to hold a grudge, I just need.....

".... time" Dream said finishing Cross' sentence. Cross nodded in response.

He felt selfish just saying it

Even if Dream seemed to understand he still felt bad.

The reality of everything was still catching up with him and it was a slightly rough reality.

He'd been on happy to see his beloved gloop free and happy, that he'd completely pushed aside any kind of confrontation he'd had in mind for Killer or Nightmare.

Both had serious partaking in his pain and he hadn't realised how much he resented them until now.

But the reality that had just hit him was that Dream was going to reconnect with with his brother and if Cross was going to be Dreams husband then Nightmare was going to be a part of his.... Family.

"........"

That thought hurt.

Dream stared at his partner for a long time, as Cross watched the water flicking under his fingers. Cross' emotions were very negative, Dream knew he needed to say something.

"it's ok Mi Soldado, you aren't the only one. .."

Cross looked up at him again.

"I may have forgiven him in my head, but I still need to forgive him in my heart". He struggled to keep his voice steady.

"I-it's been so many years"

he bent over his knees and hugged his legs tightly.

"just like my face, there are a lot of cracks to heal..." he'd sighed "it's not just you"

Cross' emotions calmed slightly and he relaxed at Dream's reassurance.

"Its going to be a long road to recovery Crossy, for all of us"

Cross gave him a soft smile, and reached forward to cup his soapy cheek.

"I'll be here every step of the way" he said in a gentle tone.

Dream melted.

He leaned over to catch Cross in a kiss and the soldier happy obliged. It was a soft and affectionate kiss. Something that they had both been needing in that moment.

After pulling away Dream sank back into the water with a sigh. For the first time in a long time, he felt that things were going to be OK.

So here I am was another little bonus Dark-Cream scene. I came up with this recently and sketched it out. I wasn't originally gonna finish it but @zu-is-here asked me to so I did. I'm not really 100% satisfied with it you know? The bubbles was horrible to draw, I'm proud of the water and the bones though. The writing was just a cute Scene I came up with. Because it can't just be all fine and dandy can it? Nightmare put them both through hell and everyone needs time to heal. Idk if that makes sense? But I hope you enjoyed.

Original cross and dream belong to jakei95 and jokublog

Original shattered dream belongs to @galacii-gallery

Based off the Dark-Cream ship by @zu-is-here and the comic by @zu-is-here

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kurowrites · 4 years ago

Note

"Took the wrong luggage AU" or "hugged the wrong person AU" wangxian please if you are free 🥺🙏

Wei Ying will only take about half of the blame, because really, what men in this day and age walk around with long hair, tied neatly in the back with a clasp? He only knows Wen Ning who does that, and so he sees long black hair and a clasp, and he assumes that this must be his second-favourite cinnamon roll (after Jiang Yanli, of course). He doesn’t really notice that the hair clasp is white instead of Wen Ning’s customary black, because who even pays attention to details such as these?

Wei Ying sneaks behind the bench his poor victim is seated on, and does what he always does when he greets Wen Ning: in one sweeping move, he wraps his arms around Wen Ning’s broad shoulders and leans in to place a big fat kiss on his cheek. As he draws back, he crows, “Ta-dah! It’s your favourite shixiong!”

Only that he’s not greeted with Wen Ning’s usual slightly embarrassed but still enthusiastic reaction to Wei Ying’s overly affectionate greeting, but suddenly has an incredibly stiff, frozen person in his embrace. And that’s when Wei Ying notices the white coat, and the white slacks, and the light blue turtleneck sweater; all items of clothing that Wen Ning very much doesn’t wear. And then the person still in his embrace turns their head just so, and…

Fuck.

This is most definitely not Wen Ning, but a person he has never ever laid eyes on before.

An exceedingly handsome person, his brain unhelpfully adds, with clean-cut, noble features.

And Wei Ying just slobbered all over this exceedingly handsome person that’s very much a complete stranger.

FUCK.

He lets go of the stranger and jumps back in a panic, flitting around the bench as he’s stuttering out an apology. He might have a thick face, sure, but putting his mouth on innocent bystanders is a bit much even for him. And this man very much looks as if he isn’t used to spontaneous make-out sessions. Unasked for ones, at that.

“I am so sorry,” he repeats for the probably twentieth time as he hovers in front of the person he just assaulted. “I thought you were my friend. I would never – I mean, not that you’re not handsome and everything – but I would never just, without asking, you know, smoo–”

At this point, the stranger seems to take pity on him. He fishes out a handkerchief (who in this day and age owns a handkerchief made out of actual cloth?) and delicately wipes his own cheek, right where Wei Ying slobbered all over him.

“It is fine,” the stranger says stiffly. “Be more careful next time.”

“I will,” Wei Ying promises with emphasis. “Believe me, I will.”

They settle into an awkward silence, Wei Ying’s hands fluttering around in the air uselessly as he tries to think of anything else he could do to show that he’s sincere in his apologies. He’s never been very good at being genuinely apologetic, his mouth turning a ‘sorry’ into some kind of joke, and it often only serves to rile people up even more. So he stands there and flounders as the handsome stranger straightens himself out again, until he looks as unruffled as me must have before Wei Ying’s sudden attack.

The stranger then looks up at him with a critical eye, almost as if he’s fearing that Wei Ying might be gearing up for a second attack.

(He’s not.)

“You should go look for your friend,” the stranger says. It’s not exactly impolite, but the words come with a sense of finality.

Please leave so I can bleach this incident from my memory as soon as possible, Wei Ying hears.

“Sorry,” he says again.

And then, because he’s an idiot, he adds, “You have very nice hair.”

Because that’s the first thing Wei Ying noticed about him.

The stranger looks at him with a slightly incredulous gaze, probably wondering why Wei Ying won’t get the memo, and just shut up and leave.

“I tried to grow mine out too,” Wei Ying says, desperately trying to get himself to stop speaking and completely failing. “But it never works out for me.”

He flicks his own sad excuse of a ponytail, the slight curliness of his hair making it look even messier than it already is.

The stranger is quiet for a moment, probably mentally calculating if it’s worth murdering Wei Ying in broad daylight in order to get his peace back. That’s usually the reaction normal people have to him. Only this has to be a new record in how fast Wei Ying managed to get them to this point.

Then, “It suits you.”

The compliment is so unexpected that Wei Ying gapes for a moment.

Which is definitely not his best look.

“Really?” he asks, incredulous.

“Hn,” the stranger replies, nodding once. As if that was a reasonable question to ask. And a reasonable answer to give.

“Wow, that’s just sad,” Wei Ying sighs, more to himself than to anyone else. “First I assault you and then I’m even comforted by you about my looks. That’s pathetic, really. Comforted by the victim. And compared to you, I’m just a… blob.”

The stranger looks at him again, possibly starting to wonder if Wei Ying is some kind of dangerous, disturbed individual or out to mug him. Maybe both. Not that Wei Ying has any intention to mug a handsome man. Or anyone at all.

Except for stealing a few kisses, maybe. He could do that, because this stranger is, after all, handsome.

Actually, he did that already, he realises. He kissed him on the cheek. He was just apologising for that.

For a smart man, he’s really astonishingly stupid. And the man even took pity on him and told him that he looked good with a ponytail.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks again, a little desperate. After all, he does feel sorry for what he did. “I feel like I should do something for you in exchange. I’m not sure what is appropriate, though. I don’t usually go around assaulting handsome men in the streets, believe me. No matter how tempting it might be.”

One of the exceedingly well-formed eyebrows on the stranger’s face twitches lightly. That’s about the most extreme facial reaction Wei Ying has received so far, and he isn’t entirely sure how to read it.

“Seriously,” Wei Ying emphasises. “Let me do something for you. As long as it doesn’t cost too much money though – I’m hopelessly poor.”

“There is no need,” the stranger finally deigns to reply. “Your apology is enough.”

“Wow,” Wei Ying cannot help but observe. “I wish all people were like you. No demands for compensation? You’re letting me off the hook very easily. But then, I guess the longer I’m standing around here, the more of a punishment this is for you. Uh. I’ll show myself out?”

The stranger looks at him again with a critical eye.

“You were waiting for you friend.”

It is more of an observation than a question.

“Yeah,” Wei Ying answers anyway. And then, he unnecessarily adds, “He also has long hair like you. That’s why I thought you were him.”

The stranger seems to consider that for a moment. Then he gestures towards the empty half of his bench.

“Wait.”

That.

That’s strangely nice of him, Wei Ying thinks with slight confusion. And hopefully not a precursor to murder.

In any case, he’s not going to look a gift horse into the mouth. With a feeling not unlike relief, he plops down onto the free half of the bench, and then smiles at this oddly civilised stranger.

He looks even handsomer from up close, Wei Ying cannot help but notices, and from here, he’s in a prime spot to admire the light golden shimmer of his eyes.

Wei Ying is struck. Such captivating, serious eyes, with a hidden depth that momentarily robs Wei Ying of his breath.

Something warm rises in his chest, sweet like honey.

Then he scolds himself. What foolish thoughts he’s having! Getting all mushy just because of a pair of reasonably pretty eyes!

(They’re beautiful, but that is not the problem here.)

“Wei Ying,” Wei Ying says, because if he doesn’t, he’ll probably say something much worse. “I promise I usually don’t assault handsome men on the street. Well. Unless I know them. I mean–”

There is the smallest twitch in the corner of the stranger’s mouth, and Wei Ying realises with uncomfortable, sudden clarity that the stranger is probably laughing at him.

It’s mortifying.

Maybe almost as mortifying as assaulting a perfect stranger with slobbery kisses.

If he had at least made it a good kiss. But no, he had to be all gross.

“Lan Zhan,” the stranger says, his voice serene, as if he hasn’t just accepted Wei Ying’s offering of peace.

Well.

Wei Ying thinks he might be able to deal with that.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, unable to contain a smile of his own. “It’s nice to meet you. This time without physical assault.”

---

When Wen Ning finally finds him twenty minutes later, Wei Ying has somehow successfully acquired a mobile phone number he’s 60% sure is not fake.

How, he isn’t entirely sure.

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #mdzs shorts #anonymous

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daydreamed-snippets · 4 years ago

Text

Part One Part Two

Personnel in crisp cream uniforms walked the brightly lit hallway with a purpose; either conversing with each other, gazing at datapads, or rushing off to who knows where. Supervillain nodded to some in passing; taking the time to pause with others. Sidekick squeezed in closer, stepping on the back of their boots, grazing their shoulder against supervillain’s arm in a pathetic endeavor to just hide. No one warned them about the trepidation that tugged at their soul, nor did anyone prepare them for the general neurosis of it all. The lights overhead strained their eyes, and the cloister of people moved like an insect hive, an incursion on their senses. They could feel a headache forming. Their various cuts and scrapes burned. Their knees hurt too, body still twitching from electrocution.

And they were all staring at them.

Keeping their head lowered, eyes affixed elsewhere, sidekick could still see all of them through their peripheral. Supervillain’s ‘team’ consisted of far more people than the association originally thought. They tensed as each gaze befell them; probably taking in their tattered costume, unkempt hair, and the collar around their neck.

Eyes curious, judging, questioning.

Shame itched at the back of their neck, screaming to be scratched, but they kept their hands in front of them where they could be easily seen. At least the supervillain wasn’t parading them around, so there was that. The leash was lax and discrete enough so long as sidekick didn’t resist.

But who were they to resist now? They were powerless. It was done and over. Supervillain won. Teammates had no idea where they were if they were even looking for them at this point.

Cramming their eyes shut, they tried to hold onto those little ribbons of faith that gleamed at them through this emblematic darkness. Usefulness dictated importance, which in the Hero’s Association meant a role working with the team. Here it would be no doubt ensure their survival. Usefulness drawing the line between life and death.

They wanted to live, but being of use to the enemy churned their stomach. Policy made no room for turncoats. An informant maybe, but they had no mercy for traitors.

So be an informant.

What was the layout here? What were the dimensions of this hallway? How many doors did they pass? Count the number of people, sidekick. Gather information, no matter how scant. Be docile to the enemy, but pragmatic to the team.

Sixteen. They already passed sixteen people. Good. The Hero’s Association would see just how useful they were once teammates rescue them out of this sterilized hellhole. They will rescue them.

Sidekick bumped into supervillain again, a warm, solid presence, and supervillain turned, looking down. “I’ll let you hold your leash, puppy, if that would make you feel better. At any rate, you keep stepping on me and I don’t want my boot scuffed." They made a motion of unwinding the wire from their wrist and handing it over. But when sidekick moved to take it, the supervillain drew back. "But remember,” they said, voice holding a dark promise. “If you choose to bolt know that I have hundreds of people under my command in this annex alone.”

Sidekick gulped.

Hundreds? Hundreds? So this wasn’t just an assortment of random villains and a handful of henchmen? This was an organization in of itself. One that could rival the Hero’s Association.

Holy shit.

In dismay, sidekick nodded numbly and the wire was placed in their hands. They murmured a thank you before realizing it, and the supervillain started again, sidekick stumbling to follow.

Let it be knowledge to tuck away at a later time. No matter how small, knowledge always proves to be advantageous.

They walked a few more meters and when supervillain stopped again. This time sidekick followed suit keeping a healthy distance between them, shuffling a bit, and looking dubiously at supervillain. They keyed something in a pad—out of sight—and a door swished open.

Their breath caught and, sidekick raised their chin. Here was their cell. They’d probably rot in here, or spend a majority of their time recovering from torture and wondering when their next session would begin.

Hope against hope, they wished it would be clean at least. Were they ever? The association gave no indication on cell parameters, or any information really save for the unpleasantness of it all. Sidekick wasn't delicate but they were averse to pain in general. They were told it made for a bad hero.

Sidekick hesitated, realizing that they should say something smarting. Brave. What would teammates say if they were in this situation? Something wisecracking and sarcastic. But then again, whenever sidekick opened their mouth the supervillain always had some observant retort. Something comment to off-balance them, and set them on their toes.

They opened their mouth anyway.

A hand on the small of their back maneuvered them through the threshold.

Supervillain stepped in as well, and the door slipped back sealing shut, leaving them in complete darkness. Walking past them, their captor roused a computer interface with a verbal command, and the area rustled to life.

Sidekick’s eyes widened at the sight.

This wasn’t a cell. These weren’t even quarters. This was a well-furnished apartment with a full kitchen, dining room, and living area. A hallway split off to their right, where sidekick assumed the bathroom and bedroom lay. No windows, but large light therapy lamps joined regular ones behind traditional furniture and on end tables. A sudden contrast to the hard lines and surfaces of the garrison hallways, an apparent appeal to a softer aesthetic.

What the?

“It’s late,” supervillain called making their rounds, checking on something sidekick was unaware of in the adjacent room. “You will take a shower, and have something to eat before settling in for the night.” Their words held no room for argument.

What kind of game was this? Sidekick leaned back against the door willing for it to open. Policy stated all enemies would treat captors roughly. That they would have no regard for their corporeal needs. Unless this was all a ruse. To get sidekick to trust them, to get them to join the supervillain’s team.

"Don't worry, your collar won't zap you if it gets wet. Medic isn't that sadistic. Not without permission." They came back into the room, eyes sliding back to sidekick with a hidden glint. “I could always bathe you myself, puppy…”

Ducking their head, sidekick shook it vigorously at supervillain’s knowing chuckle. Directing them down the hall, supervillain steered them towards the bathroom: a single shower, sink, and toilet. Newly cleaned. Immaculately decorated. They turned on the shower, showed sidekick how to adjust the temperate then left after unknotting the wire, unleashing their collar. The door remained propped open, a subtle warning not to close it.

A glance down the hallway to assure themselves that the supervillain had indeed left, sidekick shed their costume, tearing a bigger hole in the sleeve in their haste to behind obscure glass and out of the open. Granted, it wasn't like there was much preventing supervillain from entering again.

Still, they glanced back before quickly stepped into the shower, relishing the hot water on their stiff muscles. Blood and grime pooled on the tile floor, circling the drain. It shouldn't have surprised them how much there was. The team called them in to act as a diversion as much as an escape route. Sidekick was hit, but not hard as the wires spread paper-thin cuts along their arms and legs. It was not really that bad if you compared it to broken bones and missing limbs.

It stung like hell though.

The only soap available was one held in a dark grey bottle. Uncapping it, the scent of muted fern and something like vanilla filled their sinuses. Fresh. Admittedly soothing. Bringing it to a good lather, they quickly scrubbed themselves, breathing in the aroma more and more until it clicked. This was the supervillain’s scent they were covering themselves in. In fact, everything smelled like this. Everything in this part of the garrison smelled like it the moment sidekick stepped into the room.

It was maddening.

It was intoxicating.

Sidekick finished up quickly, shutting off the valve, and stepped out, wrapping a towel hanging on a large ring around themselves. It shouldn’t be intoxicating. It should be revolting, or at least off-putting.

Their costume was missing, they soon realized a little too late. In its place a crisp cream uniform, the same as the ones they’d seen everyone else don. Supervillain did sneak in when they were showering, probably when their back was turned. Color filled their face again, as they caught the reflection of themselves in the mirror. Neck red from maltreatment, and a bit too pale.

Taking no chances for their captor to return, and truly appreciate the view, they pulled on the uniform quickly, combed fingers through their shoulder-length hair, and called it a day. What did it matter how they appeared? They couldn’t go home. The team abandoned them, and the supervillain was being… odd. Nothing mattered and all the rules were bent.

They padded out and took a seat in the dining area where a chair had been pulled out for them.

“This will be soft on your stomach,” supervillain said, placing a plate before them before easing into the other chair. “I don’t want you vomiting on my carpet, puppy.”

“I don’t—” sidekick glanced up, searching the plains of their sharp face. The circles under the supervillain's eyes were more than noticeable, in the temperate light they were etched in stone. Supervillain made a noise for them to continue. “I don’t like being called puppy.”

“Give me your real name, and if I like it better than puppy, I’ll stop.”

Their already clenched jaw ground tighter; a compromise they were unwilling to make. Picking up the spoon, supervillain held it aloft, food tucked neatly on it, and directed it to sidekick’s lips. “I need you to eat puppy, so I can go to bed. I don’t want to your pathetic mewling in the night.”

Sidekick’s teeth ground together.

“Have you ever used your portals to injure anyone?” The change in subject was sudden, and sidekick’s lips slackened. “Have you ever cut someone in half before, or even just a limb?” Sidekick looked away, nervous fingers playing with their sleeve. They couldn’t help but tremble. The answer was a resounding no, but they be damned to articulate it.

“Have you ever killed anyone with your portals?” The question brought the sidekick’s attention back, and they tried to fix the supervillain with a dead stare.

They should have known by now it was impossible to win a battle of wills when they looked into the supervillain’s eyes. There was a darkness there so deep, it moved. It took shape. Haunting. Plotting. Sidekick could practically see the desire to devour them completely reflected in those stirring pools.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” they said evenly, after a beat. “Have you been given combat training?”

Yes, the basics, sidekick thought, but nothing which could defend against a supervillain.

“Have they given you any training besides making you housebroken?”

“I’m not—!” The opportunity supervillain had been waiting for came, and they shoved the spoonful into sidekick’s mouth with a look that dared them to spit it out. They chew slowly, stomach in knots but it was good.

“Let me guess, you’re not a dog,” supervillain supplied lazily. “Eat.”

“I have had training. In multiple areas,” they picked up the spoon with a shaky hand, stomach rumbling. “But I’m not going to answer your questions. If captured, policy states that I am not to give out anything besides my affiliation to the Hero’s Association. I am not going to give you any information," they let out a shaky breath, a spoonful of food in their cheeks, "not even under extreme coercion. Teammates would never forgive me, and the Hero's Association has a zero-tolerance policy."

“What kind of ‘heroes’ organization punishes you for breaking under torture?”

Sidekick’s voice squeaked. “That’s not what I said. They’ve… been good to me.”

“In what way?”

“I-I’m not answering that.”

Supervillain relented, and sidekick ate in tense silence.

Once finished, the supervillain led them to the living room. A small cot pulled out from one of the couches. After dressing it, supervillain pulled out a chain from one of the end table drawers and clipped it to a ring recently drilled into the wall. They then handed sidekick a glass of water and tucked a small pill into their hand.

“No, I—”

“It’s melatonin, and it will help you sleep. It won’t put you to sleep.” They poured several into their hand and tossed it into their mouth as they wandered to find water. “You’ll need it," they called. "You’ve been shaking since you got out of the shower. Get some rest.” Their footsteps became more distant as they went down the hallway to the bedroom, bed creaking as they entered it.

The lights clicked off and the sidekick was left in darkness.

They shrugged into bed, pulling the light sheets over themselves while kicking off the comforter. A cold sweat claimed them, and they stared at the ceiling for the better part of three hours, thoughts churning, churning, churning.

So what if they’d never hurt anyone with their powers before, that didn’t mean they weren’t a threat. That didn’t mean that the supervillain could treat them like a patsy. It didn't mean that they were incapable.

They could do it if they wanted to.

They could do it to supervillain if they wanted to.

Why, they were just sleeping in the next room. Sidekick could hear deep breathing and the stutter of a dream-filled sigh. There was no need to use their full power to slip a link in the chain or to silently creep over to the room. They could make a sliver of a portal for half a second, and endure the buzz from their collar.

Sidekick set their plan in motion.

After the mini-portal, they blacked out for a second and woke with a gasp. Part one done. They were free, chain hewn in two. They probably had moments before anyone noticed, so they needed to move quickly.

Have you ever used your portals to injure anyone?

Supervillain's words came back to them, as they wandered the hallway, honing in on the dark bedroom. They stepped through the threshold, a thought sparking of how they were invading. How a bedroom spoke of intimacy, a cozy and solitary space.

A single red light blinked from the ceiling corner. Sidekick's eyes were already well adjusted to the dark that they could see supervillain's outline on the bed, lying on their back, arms spread out defenselessly.

They could picture it now. Sidekick fails the demon supervillain. Sure they might die in the process, but it would serve the association. It would cement them in the annals of heroic feats.

Have you ever killed anyone with your portals?

Moving to the side of the bed, sidekick’s hands hovered, not yet touching. Faltering in their pursuit. Where was that rage their felt earlier? Where was that appetite for vengeance? It was there, they could feel it under the surface, but it was a poor substitute for bloodlust. A poor replacement for the mindset needed to end a life.

Could they do it?

"Why don't you go back to bed like a good little labradoodle? You don't have to stomach for this."

Sidekick almost jumped at the sound. Hands reached up to boldly clamp onto their wrists.

"Let me go!"

"I warned you, puppy."

They lunged for the supervillain's throat, the heat back again. Volatile, it roared to life. Erupting, unpredictable, but sidekick was grateful for its presence now. It wasn't bloodlust, but it possibly could be damaging enough.

Supervillain pulled them on top of them, and sidekick's legs swung around their body, hoping to get a better angle to grip their neck. "You think I'm going to cooperate with you? I will fight you at every turn. You will regret keeping me alive. I will gather enough intel that once I escape, teammates will be able to take you down."

"If they want you back."

The statement made sidekick pause. "What did you just say?"

"If," the repeated, slowly, the next words in a rhythmic manner. "If they want you back."

"What do you mean if?"

Supervillain's eyes drift up to the red light winking steadily at them.

Blood drained from sidekick's face.

"It records video, but no sound. Makes it easier to edit, I'm told. And I have people in my employment that can edit anything. They can and will make this little tussle we've having look like a lover's tryst." They let go of sidekick's wrists and trailed a pitying hand down their cheek. "What would teammates think of you once I send them this video of us in bed together? Would they jump to the conclusion that we've been joined this whole time? That our affair was the reason why you closed the portal? Did you choose to stay with me? Or would they assume that since you have such a weak constitution, that it only took one day for me to seduce you?"

"This was a trap. You knew," sidekick licked their lips, and supervillain's eyes followed the movement. "You set this up from the beginning."

"I set up fail-safes in case you chose this path."

"You tricked me."

"You disobeyed me," they said, voice hardening and a chill crept down sidekick's spine. They sat up, moving sidekick to their lap, and gripped their chin roughly, face inches from theirs. "I was nice before, and you squandered my kindness. Now you will face the punishment."

Wire detached from the ceiling like vines, wrapping themselves around sidekick before they had a chance to scramble off the bed and bolt. Their feet lifted off the ground. Once again they were suspended, drawn tightly to the four corners of the room. Supervillain didn't spare a glance at them as they got out of bed, and left the room, all but ignoring sidekick's screams.

#not my prompt #continuation #my writing #sidekick #supervillain #part 3 #just keeps getting longer and longer #part 4 after I've taken a break from this story

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

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Fair Game.

T-800 x reader (Terminator: Judgement Day version)

Warnings: sexual themes mentioned, gun use

Context: The T-800 wants to learn to be more human.

A/N: I absolutely love the terminator films, so I will try and write more for them, even though it's not very popular amongst you guys 😅 this is just some idea I've had rattling around in my head, so enjoy!

P.S. To the people who have requested things, I have not forgotten or ignored you! I'm just in the process of writing them out, so I should have one out by tomorrow.💛

Masterlist

The temperature has slowly gotten cooler over the last few hours or so, the sky beginning to darken a little until the last light comes from the rays of sun just cresting over the horizon, casting the landscape in an orange tint. Annoyingly, it also means I can't see what I'm doing, the shape of each separate part of the assault rifle in my hands nearly indistinguishable as they start blurring into each other. A sigh of irritation leaves me as I put them down again, stretching my back as I stand up from the picnic bench again, shaking the stiffness from my joints, my body cramping from sitting in the same position for hours. My hands ache, too, my palms and fingers coated in a layer of gun oil, a result of the rigourous cleaning I've put the weapons through, something which wasn't necessarily required, but I felt like doing anyway, to take my mind off the more gruesome details of the past day or so, still trying to process what exactly is happening.

Just yesterday, John and I were messing around in the arcade, using his hacking skills to our advantage as he stole some money, the two of us having a great time with his friend, who we had to leave behind, for his own safety. A cop went around asking others about John, making the mistake of questioning our friend, who then let us know of the possible danger of being caught, prompting us to run, trying to escape another warning from the feds. From that point onwards, everything went pear shaped: another man appeared from nowhere and shot the cop, who had pulled a gun on us, saving us from certain death as he then gave us time to escape, letting us both get back to our motorcycles, which we promptly used to get away, speeding as quickly as possible down into the aquaducts, where we know our way round pretty well. Leading the cop on a long chase, we soon became very knowledgeable of the fact that our bikes are nowhere near as fast as the truck the cop was chasing us in, meaning we very nearly got hit by it. Long story short, the man from before saved the two of us, before explaining to us what exactly is happening.

Having been in John's close friend circle for most of our time together, the information I learnt was not too surprising; a cyborg (the cop) has been sent back in time from the future to kill him, so he can't lead the resistance against a future mechanized army, a T-1000 made of liquid metal, though another cyborg, a T-800 this time, has been sent back to save him. Having established this, we quickly found that our foster parents had been murdered by the T-1000, leaving the two of us mostly parentless, though John still has his mother, who we broke out of a mental institute last night. And now here we are, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, sheltering with a friend of her's called Enrique.

The sound of steady footsteps draws me from my reverie, my head snapping round as I notice the T-800 walking towards me, it's expressionless face mostly in shadow now because of the setting sun. Turning to face him, I pick up the gun components once more and start methodically putting them back together again, trying to ignore him as he comes up to me, annoyed that my mind has formed an attachment to the handsome cyborg already within two days of knowing him.

"You have experience in the use of firearms." It's not a question, but rather a statement, the cyborg's deep, accented voice resonating in my ears.

"My parents, my real parents that is, were fugitives. They showed me how to use weapons from as young as I could hold them. They thought I needed to be ready to protect myself." I laugh dryly, "I never thought they'd actually be right about something."

"This will be useful in the war." He states tonelessly, watching as I slot the magazine back into the stock, loading it ready for immediate use.

"If I make it that far." I murmur, putting the assembled gun back down on the table, turning my body to properly face him, "Did you need something?"

"No. I am trying to learn "small talk". John Connor has told me to be more human, and that is what he recommends." He reveals, standing beside me, his body towering over mine.

"Oh, right, well that's fair game, I guess." I smile, knowing that the bond between my foster brother and the cyborg has grown quickly, which is unsurprising given the willingness to learn on both of their behalf.

"What is "fair game"?" The T-800 looks over at me, brow furrowed slightly.

Stuck for words, I try to figure out how to explain it, only to be distracted by the sight of two of the younger members of the group already living here making out a little way away. Clenching my jaw, I look down at my feet, a pang of jealousy making itself known.

"Its a figure of speech. I use it to clarify whether I think something is a relatively good idea or not." I finally answer him, unable to resist another look at the couple, which he catches and follows.

"Why do you kiss?" He inquires again, watching unashamedly as the couple make out passionately.

"You mean people? People kiss when they are romantically involved with each other, or if they want to reassure each other. It's a sign of love. Not that I'd know." I say the last part quietly, hoping he won't hear it, "Get it?"

"No."

I smile sadly at this, not really expecting him to understand it, given that it is an extension of human affection, something which he does not really know how to do.

"Maybe one day." I say to him wistfully, leaning back against the table behind me.

"Affirmative. I will understand when I have a concept of human behaviour." He states, turning back to face me, standing much closer than before, "What is wrong?"

I look up as he asks this, having been staring at the floor dejectedly, trying to think up whether there will be a "one day" or not. I've always been a pessimist, but situations like this do not help.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just a little...down, I guess." I explain to him, sighing.

He frowns, clearly confused by the terminology.

"Down meaning sad in this context." I inform the T-800, clarifying what I mean.

A look of understanding dawns on his face, before a look of deep concentration replaces it. Suddenly, he steps forwards, caging me into the table, his hands coming to rest on my hips, pulling me into his hard body. Instinctually, my hands move to lay themselves on his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath them move as he picks me up and places me onto the table behind me, pressing closer. Before I can say a word, I feel his lips smooth themselves against mine, their cool, dry surfaces moulding with mine as I reciprocate out of instinct, enjoying the feeling of him kissing me as he wraps his hands around my body. Somehow, he manages to draw my mouth open, slipping his tongue into it to lick at the interior of my mouth, swallowing my moans and grunts of air, his hands slipping under my shirt and onto my bare skin. Arching into him, I card my fingers through his hair, pulling gently as he presses even closer, his abnormal strength pushing me down onto the table beneath me, his muscular arms caging me in underneath his huge body. Propping myself up on my elbows, I try to keep up with him, only to fall back as he pulls away and starts kissing down my neck, easily finding my sweet spot. Licking and sucking at it, he allows his hands to roam over my body to my ass, gripping it gently as he holds me close to his chest.

"What in the hell are you doing?!" John's voice suddenly cuts through the haze of pleasure, drawing my attention away from the T-800, who stops what he is doing to look at the boy, helping me upright again as he answers.

"I am reassuring (Y/n). She told me that kissing is a form of reassurance to people." He recites, looking over at me again, his eyes slightly less dead than normal.

"Generally those kisses don't look like that." John points out, looking slightly disgusted as I try to adjust myself again, embarrassed and flustered as hell.

"What do they look like, then? My files show that that is normal."

"Normal for people who are in love! For other people, it tends to be a quick kiss on the forehead, or cheek!" The boy continues to argue.

"If it makes you feel any better, John, then I feel a lot more relaxed now. It worked really well." I interject, shyly, looking down with my cheeks flushing red.

"Then it is a successful method." The T-800 says, clearly confused.

John goes to reply again, only to be cut off by the sound of a car door slamming. Turning, we see Sarah suddenly climb into the corresponding car, the engine starting as she puts it into drive, not looking back as she leaves the camp, John racing after her, screaming for her.

"Don't try kissing him to reassure him. I don't think it will work for him." I inform the cyborg beside me, smiling up at him as he gives me his own version of one, though it looks much more like a grimace than a smile.

"That is fair game."

#terminator 2 #terminator imagine #terminator #T-800 #T-800 x reader #arnold schwarzenegger

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thran-duils · 3 years ago

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Dubious Representation (P.2)

Title: Dubious Representation (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Hank Palmer. Reader’s husband is facing jail time and although Hank Palmer entered the counsel for pro bono, he is still going to get a form of payment. Recently single, he’s been lonely and he’s looking for some comfort. Even if it means obtaining it from less than savory means. Words: 2,401 Warnings (for entire fic): Eventual smut, sexual coercion, infidelity, mention of past domestic violence, verbal abuse Author’s Note: Decided on three parts!

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You walked into the office, alone, his secretary, Sarah, closing the door behind you. You stood by the door, not taking a seat or moving towards the desk.

“You’re early,” Hank commented, typing on his laptop, eyes focused there.

“I always give myself at least a fifteen-minute buffer,” you told him. “Seemed to not be a problem since you called me in anyway.”

He smirked briefly as he continued to type.

After a minute, he clicked a couple times before shooting you a look, “You gonna just stand there? Sit down, please.” You started moving to the chair and he tsked, “No, come here.”

You slowly placed your purse on the chair and moved around his desk. He scooted his chair back and leaned back in the chair, tapping his lap. Keeping a neutral face, you turned around and sat lightly, not putting all your weight on him.

“You doing a wall sit? Your legs are gonna be shaking in no time. Come on, make yourself comfortable.” You closed your eyes, taking a small breath. You had signed up for this. You scooted to do what he asked, and he breathed deeply as you settled on his lap. “Nice yoga pants by the way.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not. It seems to be your only tone.”

Hank chuckled, “Oh, I’m more than serious. You can’t feel that?”

You could and that is why you wanted to move. He was already poking you in the ass through his slacks.

“Couldn’t miss it.”

“You trying to flatter me? Well, it’s working.” His hand came to rest on your thigh, and he tapped. “Read that document on the computer. It’s what you both told me last about the incident and I wanna know if it’s complete.”

Leaning forward you focused on the screen and tried to not think of Hank admiring the curve of your ass as you leaned forward. You would be lying to yourself if you said you were not getting hot with what was happening.

You scanned the document as quickly as you could and nodded. “It’s fine.”

“‘Fine’. That’s not encouraging.”

“That’s how I remember it.”

“That’s better, sweetheart.”

His hands were running up and down your thighs, fingers gentle and tantalizing. You looked over your shoulder at him and he grinned in response.

“I think we can sway the jury to see it as self-defense, get that charge dropped. You’ll need to look like a little doe though sitting behind him, garner sympathy with that pretty face of yours. Protective husband just making sure his wife didn’t get hurt or worse. Emphasize the worst, put that in their head what could have happened. It would justify him putting a knife up to the guy’s neck.”

You stood quickly, the memory flooding back.

Hank followed your movement and he said gently, “Hey.” He turned you to face him and he rubbed your arms. “Sorry, we’ll stop talking about it. It’s good. We got it. Let’s talk about you. How ravishing you look. You’re stunning, doll.”

He followed your gaze until he provoked you to meet his and he came in for a slow kiss. You were stiff at first, still thinking of that man that had tried to assault you and how enraged Rich had become. He had almost killed the guy if people had not pulled him off.

Hank’s lips were soft, but his kiss grew in intensity. He had you pressed up against the desk and encouraged you to sit up on it. Your legs wrapped around his, one hand holding the back of his neck. You arched your back, pressing towards him when he captured your mouth again. You melted into his embrace, there was nothing overtly malicious about it. It was comforting even.

He groaned lightly, his lips trailing across your jawline, tucking into the nape of your neck. His grips were tight and desperate as he searched your body, his mouth devouring at your shoulder. He was relishing in just having you to touch.

Hank pulled away flushed, his lips darker and swollen. He came back for another deep kiss, and you met him in his fervor. His tongue slipped past your lips, and you swirled yours, much to his pleasure.

“God, you’re divine,” he breathed pulling away again.

“Flattering me?” you asked, turning his own quip back on him. “It’s working.”

He simpered going for your top. He freed you from it and dipped down nipping at the tops of your breast poking out from your bra. His hands worked at the clasp at your back, and he tore the bra off as well.

You took the opportunity to stop him, his lustful gaze confused at your hand on his chest, holding him suddenly.

“You’re clean, right?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. I came prepared.” He held up a condom he pulled out of his pocket.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“I’m clean. You?”

“Yes. I’m only sleeping with Rich.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Hank said curtly before he ordered, “Over the desk, legs spread. I wanna see you stretch around me.”

You felt heat in your core at his dominant behavior. Rich was only like that when he was drunk but he could also get violent when he was drunk. It was rarely worth the risk.

Slipping off the desk, you rubbed against him considering he barely gave you any room. Hooking your fingers into your waist band, you began to tug your pants down, but he said, “Ah, ah. I’ll do the honors. Just do what I told you.”

Your stomach met the desk and you spread your legs like he asked. His hands ran up your thighs and across your ass, admiring. He squeezed and prodded, one hand slipping between your legs to run up your pussy. You shivered, your hands clenching at the contact. He hummed in approval as he yanked your bottoms down past your knees, them falling the rest of the way to your ankles.

“Isn’t that a lovely sight?” He purred, squeezing at your ass. He let out a small growl, lying a light smack.

You heard him rip the condom open and you gripped at the desk, your breathing beginning to quicken with the anticipation.

“Nervous, doll?”

“No,” you breathed.

Hank praised, “Good girl.”

His cock pressed in, and you bit your lip, holding back a moan. His hand came to the back of your neck as he entered further, and you took him inch by inch.

Setting a steady pace, he started using you, muttering praise under his breath that you only caught snippets of. Your fingers dug into the desk as your hips began to rut as his speed increased. He groaned holding your hips tight, bruising thrusts against your ass as he pounded into you, the desk shaking. You feared Sarah would hear, even though she was further down the hall.

He brushed your core and you moaned sharply giving yourself away. He slowed, drawing himself out and in painfully slow, brushing your spot. You whimpered with each contact.

“There you are,” Hank said with a throaty chuckle.

He increased his thrusts again, making sure to pay special attention to you, panting as his cock drew in and out. You arched your back as you buried your head, pathetic moans falling from your lips. You were trying to bury them into his desk. One hand came to your back, pressing down as his breathing became erratic, forcing you flat again.

“Come on, doll. Come for me. Don’t worry about Sarah. She won’t bother us. Come all over my cock. Show your appreciation.”

You released with a sharp cry, your hands flat against the desk tautly. Hank groaned obscenely feeling your walls constrict and he increased his thrusts before he came in rasping breaths, shaking against you.

Hank pulled away, taking the condom off, and carelessly tossing it into the trash by his desk. He wiped at his face and said, “Shit. Made me work up a sweat. Can’t wait for the next round though.”

<><><>

Your phone buzzed beside you on the blanket, and you reached over blindly, grabbing it. Pushing your sunglasses up, you looked at the text. It was Hank.

Where are you?

Grant Park. Why?

Just a little bit hungry.

What was he getting at? Was he asking you out on a date…? You had not seen him since Friday; it was Wednesday now. Your stomach clenched at the thought. How would that look if anyone you knew happened to spot you? Still, you texted him back. Maybe he meant just a drive thru and not out in the open.

Do you want to get lunch?

I thought you’d never ask. Meet me at the south entrance. Grey Ferrari convertible.

He drove recklessly and the wind whipped around you. He stopped up against the curb at a sandwich place and ushered you inside to order a sandwich to go. Small blessings you would not have to sit at a table and wonder if someone you knew walked by and would tell Rich you were having lunch with another man, even if it was his attorney.

Hank took you to the marina and led you to a boat. His boat, he explained, and it was a sunny day so why not enjoy it on the deck? There was a table with a cushioned wrap around couch that you sat at.

You barely got two bites in before he was on you and you gasped quickly when he got to his knees, spreading your legs apart, shoving your dress up.

“Hank, what are you doing?” You hissed.

“I thought you offered me lunch,” he stated bluntly.

“We are in public—"

“Exciting isn’t it?”

“Can’t we go… inside? You said there was a bedroom downstairs—” you suddenly squeaked as he nipped at the inside of your thigh near your pussy.

His fingers slipped past your underwear, and you could not hide from him anymore. A wicked grin came across his face, his fingers sliding in your wetness.

“Looks like you are ready to serve,” he purred. His fingers left you and he brought them up to his lips, sucking on them. “Sweet. Just like I like it.”

You looked over your shoulder nervously trying to see if there were any people on the dock nearby or any of the boats. You did not spot anyone, but you did not have long to look because Hank drew you back by tugging roughly at your underwear, pulling them off and tossing them onto the table.

“Hook your leg over my shoulder,” he told you, his breath hot on your sex.

You obeyed and he was lecherous and starving in the way he dove in. Your hands braced against the cushions, gasping gently. He sucked and licked, devouring the taste of you.

“Good thing I’m not a huge fan of these slacks cause this deck hasn’t been cleaned in a week,” he joked, laying small kisses up and down your pussy before he was back at it, determined to make you come into his skilled mouth.

<><><>

Washing his hands at the sink, Hank saw Warren, the DA lawyer for Rich’s case, walk in. Warner actually smirked seeing Hank, stopping his stride to the urinal.

“Funny you took this case on…” Warner told him.

“Why’s that?” Hank asked, adjusting his tie in the mirror.

“I mean. I have never seen you take a case that can be so easily lost. You’re always just win… win… win.”

“Stop fucking around and just say what you wanna say,” Hank said impatiently, turning to face him.

Warner cocked his head and asked, “It is plain as day the way the jury is going to swing about this aggravated assault. Considering his past abuses against women.”

Hank did not let his face betray him, but he was tense at the information.

All he said was, “We will see about it.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the bathroom, immediately whipping out his phone.

<><><>

“Get your ass over here!” Hank snarled at Rich, pulling him away from a startled Y/N. He pulled him into an empty room and shoved him up against the wall roughly.

“What the fuck is your—" Rich started to snap.

“You didn’t tell me you were a fucking abuser!” Hank snarled at him, getting in his face. “You’ve been booked for domestic violence not once but twice! Was it her? Y/N?”

Rich only looked caught off guard for a moment.

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have anything to do with—" Rich tried to argue, ignoring his question.

And Hank almost lost it completely, the veins in his temples taut with his ferociousness.

“It has everything to do with this! My job is to cast doubt on the assault charges! Show it was self-defense! The DA is gonna have — actually I know they have this information about you slapping your wife around. How do you think that’s gonna bode on the jury’s opinion?”

He took a step back, running his hand over his hair, tugging. He swore under his breath, trying to calm himself down to no avail.

“You’re... you fucked me! Hung me out to dry!” Hank snarled. He got close again, hand on his hip, pointing a finger threateningly at Rich. “We are gonna lose this appeal! Because you weren’t honest! And you set us up for failure but being a raging piece of shit! You’re going to prison for a long time!” He scoffed. “You didn’t ‘wanna leave your wife’. Give me a fucking break! It sounds like that would be the best thing for her! And that’s what the jury is gonna think too!”

“It’s a litigation now and I would need to ask for permission to leave! And you know what? I actually like your wife. She’s not a dickhead like you. And I told her to her face I would do my best. So that’s what I’m gonna do.” He shook his head furiously again and snarled, “Rookie goddamn mistake on my part for trusting you were going to tell me everything straight up. Rookie mistake!”

He shot Rich a murderous look and said, “You better kiss your fucking wife goodbye, Richard. Because you are going to go away for probably at least a decade!”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney

#hank palmer x reader #dark hank palmer #my shit #hank palmer

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