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pikapikabishes · 3 years

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Light of My Life

DESCRIPTION: CHARACTERS ARE NOT MINE, THEY BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTFUL OWNERS. ONLY THING THAT IS MINE IS THE PLOT

Summary: Kirishima and Y/n realize their love for each other after years of yearning

Warnings: slight nudity, some cursing, tooth-rotting fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two years.

Kirishima has been in love with you… for two whole years. Ever since he met you on the first day they had started as first years in UA. When you stood up for your new friends against the angry blonde pomeranian that is Kasuki Bakugo, then for some reason apologized for it. You were just the epitome of beauty, both inside and out, and benevolence, a fiery spark in your eye that indicates the strong will and fight that you have.

And the way you handle yourself in combat during that first training exercise with All Might? Kirishima swears that the existence of Cupid must be real because he was pretty sure it must’ve been incredibly abnormal with how fast he had fallen for you. You fought like some kind of battle goddess. And with your quirk, you might as well be.

You called your quirk “Celestial Light,” meaning you manipulate sun-, moon-, and starlight to your will. He’s seen you use the sunlight as powerful beams, to which you secretly admitted to him later that you got that move from Pokemon, forge weapons out of either light, and can now weave yourself a dazzling pair of wings along with armor as your ultimate move.

And while all these features, plus with just how stunningly beautiful you are; with your soft, shiny (h/c) hair, your (e/c) eyes that seem to make the stars in the sky lose their sparkle, those plump, soft-looking lips that stretch out into that dazzling smile that proudly shows off your pearly whites. What really reeled in his attention was all the little quirks you have.

The way you twirl a lock of your hair when you’re deep in thought; the way you chew on that kissable, plump lower lip of yours and your nose scrunches in the cutest way he’s ever seen, when you’re stuck on a difficult problem or when you don’t understand said problem; the way you always pluck out the tomatoes from your salad; how you always save your dessert for last so that, according to you, the delicious taste lingers on your tongue long after you’ve eaten it, or how you’re quick to offer some of your said dessert when a friend seems upset or sad about something; or the way you lightly sway your hips while you’re cooking to a song that’s either sounding from your phone or ringing in your head, at times humming to the tune playing, and how you tend to hum to what seems to be a pleasant daydream, if the soft smile on your face is anything to go by; as well as how you always, always make hot chocolate late at night when you have problems sleeping and how utterly adorable you look as you fight to stay awake as he fondly watches from around the corner during the times he himself has gown downstairs for something to drink as you sigh so contently when you take that first sip before clumsily making your way back up to your room. Especially when you still continue to argue with Kasuki to this day on how he treats Midoriya even though he’s mellowed a bit, Kirishima can’t help but find you so utterly adorable when your 5’7” is all up in Kasuki’s 6’5” personal space. It’s like watching a cute golden retriever puppy going up against a big bad (pomeranian) wolf.

Man, he could just go on and on. And he can go on and on and on about how hopelessly in love with you he is. Which he was subconsciously doing right now with his group of friends as he watched you happily interact with your best friend Mina and the other girls, as they undoubtedly plan their “girl’s night” tonight. Kirishima gave out another sigh, which earned him a hard smack on the back of his head within the next second.

“Ow!” Kirishima’s hand shot to the spot the angry pomeranian he calls his best friend had smacked him. He turned a questioning look over at the seething blonde next to him, looking at the bulging vein that looks ready to pop on his forehead. “What the hell was that for, Bakubro?!”

“That is the fucking twelveth time you’ve fucking sighed like that in the last 20 minutes, and I swear to fuck if I have to hear another fucking comment on how ‘beautiful’ Lamp is, Imma blow your ass all the way to Timbuktu,” Bakugou angrily spat out.

Of course, the threat of getting his ass handed to him rolled off him like water on a swan’s back. In the back of his mind, Kirishima laughed at how his friend was just all bark as he knew Bakugou wouldn’t actually beat him up that bad… probably.

Kirishima blinked, “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, bro,” Denki butted in, looking slightly annoyed as well. “You’ve been going on about ‘(L/n)’s hair looks great today’, ‘(L/n) looks so cute with her nose scrunched up when she chews her food’, ‘(L/n) looks so good in her uniform today.’ Like bro, you say she looks great in her uniform everyday, which I won’t argue, she do be looking mighty fine in a school uniform,” Denki trailed off as he leaned back in his seat as he stared at the girl in question, looking suspiciously like he’s trying to get a better view of her ass.

At that realization, Kirishima glared at the pervy, knockoff pikachu and kicked his shin hard.

Denki yelped, high-pitched and whiny as he brought up his leg, tendly rubbing the spot that was kicked. “Oooww, dude! What the hell?”

“Don’t look at her like that,” Kirishima growled, eyes glaring daggers.

Denki puts his arms up in surrender, cowarding before his suddenly intimidating friend. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry, I won’t stare at your girl again!”

Blood quickly rushed to the red-head’s cheeks, painting them a rosy color. “Wha- She’s not my girl!”

“You wouldn’t be able to tell with the way you look at her with that lovey-dovey expression on your face and how you follow her around like a lost puppy,” Sero intervened, casually leaned back in his seat with his hands behind his head, the straw from his drink dangling from his lips.

“Yeah what he said,” Denki agreed, still tenderly rubbing his injured leg.

“That’s not-” Kirishima tripped over his words. “We’re just hanging out! I do the same thing with you guys!”

“Yeah. but if ya compare how much time you spend with us vs. (L/n), you’re practically non-existent in our group hangouts,” Sero laughed at his friend’s red face that is one shade off from blending into his hair.

“Guys, com’on. I- I just-” Kirishima was waving his hands, trying to think of something to say.

“Quite making fucking stupid-ass excuses,” Bakugou butted in. “Do you like Lamp or not?” Kirishima nodded hesitantly before glancing back over to your table as if nervous that you would hear this conversation even when you were like 4 tables away in this noisy cafeteria. “Then be a fucking man, or some shit, and fucking tell her already before I pop a goddamn blood vessel from all your fucking lovey dovey shit and whinning!”

Kirishima blinked thinking about his best friend’s words. After a moment, Kirishima gave the pomeranian his usual bright grin that could blind anyone who witness, hence why Denki and Sero simutaniously brought out sunglasses and place them high on their noses, and Bakugou’s squinting. Standing up suddenly, he declared, “You’re absolutely right! I have to man up and tell her how I feel!”

The commotion of Kirishima’s declaration turned around all the heads in the cafeteria, causing the red head’s cheeks to heat up again as he became fully aware of all the pairs of eyes on his 6’4” self. After giving a hasty apology, Kirishima plops back down, leaning on the table and covering his eyes with his big hands. Unknown to him, a pair of disheartened (e/c) orbs glanced at the embarrassed red-head with a sadden longing lingering in them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re staring at him again,” Mina, your number one best friend, noted in a singsong voice, popping another french fry in her mouth.

“What? Staring at who?” You questioned, immediately picking at your side salad, suddenly having lost interest in eating.

“Oh com’on. I saw you looking at Kirishima again.” Mina nudged you with her elbow. “Why don’t you just tell him already?”

You looked at her in confusion. “Tell him what?”

“That you’re completely and hopelessly in love with him,” she gave off a teasing lovey-dovey sigh.

Heat rushed into your cheeks. “I-...” You stuttered, going back to jabbing at your salad. “I don’t know what your talking about.”

“Oh, please gurl,” Mina scoffed. “It’s so obvious, it’s kinda painful watching. Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“What do you mean? We talk everyday, we’re best friends just like you and me,” You defended. “Besides,” You absentmindedly twirl a lock of your hair around your finger. “I doubt he’d be into someone like me. I mean, I’m not all that special.”

“Are you kidding? You’re freaking gorgeous, how could he not love you?” Mina asked.

“I just feel like, I don’t know, maybe I’m too plain for him?”

Mina rolled her dark eyes before grabbing your shoulders, and turned you around towards the other girls sitting with them.

“Gals,” she called, turning all five heads. She slung an arm over your shoulder and pointed at you. “Smash or pass?”

They all simultaneously replied, “Smash.”

“See? You are not just a plain, ol’ girl. You’re beautiful, and you’re kind, and fun. Why wouldn’t he like you?” Mina glanced at the Kirishima, watching as Kaminari and Sero poking fun at the gentle giant. She may or may not know Kirishima’s feelings about you, having picked them up a while ago.

Your blushed increased. “I don’t know. He’s just so sweet, and determined, and I just… Sometimes I feel like he’s way out of my league,” you sighed solemnly.

Mina hummed, thinking. “Well that’s too bad then. I think you guys would make such a cute couple.”

“That’s nice of you to say,” you thanked, a bittersweet smile resting on your lips. “But you heard him just now. He already has someone he likes.” You sighed, “Looks like I’m too late.”

Mina decided then and there, she was going to be both of your wingman, determined to get her two friends together by this weekend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking down into the common room later after school, with a nice blouse and a pair of skinny jeans with a purse hanging from your shoulder, you come to see the BakuSquad hanging on the couches.

“Alright Mina, I’m ready. Let’s go,” You happily say, waiting for her on the side of the sofa she and Kirishima were lounging on.

Kirishima looked up from his phone, seeing you all dressed up causing a faint blush to rise. “You look good! Where are you going?”

His compliment on your outfit causing heat to rise in your cheeks as well. “Um, Mina and I were going to head to the mall for snacks and clothes.”

“Oooh yeah about that,” Mina started, smiling sheepishly. “I can’t go with you.”

Your face fell a bit. “What? Why?”

“Some personal business came up, But hey! Why doesn’t Kirishima here go with you?” Mina nudged the giant next to her with her elbow.

Kirishima bounced onto his feet in excitement at the thought of you two alone together. “Yeah, let’s go!”

“You don’t have to Kiri, I can go by myself-”

“Nonsense!” Mina interjected. “Kirishima was just telling me he wasn’t doing anything today. Plus you’re going to be needing both an extra pair of hands and eyes if your going to be shopping for clothes.”

You looked ay her in confusion. “I mean, I suppose. But if he doesn’t want-”

“I do!” he shouted, interrupting you into a shocked silence. Clearing his throat, he continued, “Ahem, I mean… I do. I don’t mind tagging along.”

“Alright,” You smiled, your cheeks still feeling warm and butterflies swarming your stomach at being alone with your crush. “If you’re ready, we can go now.”

“Uh,” Kirishima patted his pockets. “Give me a minute to go get my keys and wallet,” he said, before full on sprinting up the staircase towards his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Here we are,” Kirishima announced, turning off the engine to his beat-up, red pickup truck.

“Thanks for coming along with me Kiri,” you smiled at him.

“It’s no problem, really. I like spending time with you.” His smile was tender and genuine.

“That’s sweet of you. I like spending time with you too,” you said, reaching for the handle of the door.

“Nuh-uh, what do you think you’re doing?” He gently grabbed your forearm, effectively stopping you from opening the door.

You quirked an eyebrow in confusion. “Opening the door to get out??”

“Nope, not while I’m around. A lady shouldn’t have to open a door when a man is with her. I’ve told you this before,” He shakes his head in mock disappointment, not effectively hiding the upturn of the corner of his mouth. “What’s wrong with you?”

He steps out of the truck, quickly rounding the truck and reaching your door to open it. “Seriously Kiri, it’s not that big of a deal,” you said, stepping out of the truck and onto the asphalt, watching as Kirishima locked the truck before walking side by side to the giant building.

“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t open the door for you,” Kirishima asked rhetorically.

You giggled at his catchphrase, or rather catchword. As you two entered the mall, you mindlessly glanced at the stores around you. “So you’re going to buy new clothes?

“Yeah, and some snacks, too, for Girl’s Night tonight.”

“Any reason for buying more clothes?”

“Um…” You started blushing again. “It’s kinda embarrassing.”

“Oh, I get it. You don’t have to share if you don’t have to,” Kirishima reassured, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Thanks,” you smiled gratefully.

You two continue on your way towards the clothing stores, when a shout suddenly sounded throughout the mall and people screamed. You both looked at each other before rushing over. There was a commotion, a young man had a kid hostage in front of the store.

“Give me my son back! Please!” A woman screamed, sounding terrified.

“Mommy!” the boy cried.

“A-Alright, listen up!” the young man stuttered, his whole body trembling as he held up his fingers to the boy’s temple in a gun position. “N-nobody try anything or else this boy is gonna get it!” Everyone stayed still as they nervously listened to his commands. “Everyone here h-hand over whatever money y-you have on you, including you register boy, or else the boy’s not going to be breathing anymore!”

“Robbery, one hostage,” you whispered to Kirishima next to you.

“And his quirk still unknown. We should be cautious about this, otherwise the kid’s gonna get hurt,” Kirishima added.

“Okay so what should we do?”

“How about I sneak up behind him while you get the kid away from him,” Kirishima suggests

“Fine with me,” you agree, going over to a potted plant as to hide your purse. “Let’s go.”

Gathering a small bit of sunlight in your palm, you directed the beam to the robber’s face, not powerful to cause permanent damage to him, but enough to temporarily blind him long enough for you to get the frightened boi away from him.

As soon as the robber yelped in surprise and closing his eyes, you sprinted forward and shoved the blinded robber away from the boy to which he fell against Kirishima who held him in a restraining hold while you jumped back with the little boy in your arms to put a bit more distance just in case. As the robber struggled again Kirishima, who didn’t even budge with all the squirming, you checked over the crying boy for any signs of injury.

Just as you were about to let the boy run over to his mother, the criminal being held by the hulking tank that is Kirishima, pressed his finger gun to Kirishima’s face and a loud bang sounded as he apparently shot at the redhead, a bullet of fire hitting him in the cheek. On instinct, Kirishima activated his quirk to protect himself, but since it was so sudden, he let of of the robber out of surprise. Once he was free, the robber aimed at the boy in front of you and fired.

Without hesitation, you threw yourself over the boy to protect him. Since you handle sunlight, you can take a bit of heat, unfortunately though… your clothes couldn’t. Next thing you knew, your blouse was catching on fire. You tried patting the fire out but obviously it wasn’t working so without thinking, you ripped off your shirt and threw it on the ground, leaving you in just your red, lacy bralette.

A thud sounded from behind you, making you turn around battle-readied, only to see Kirishima with his harden fist hanging in the air and the robber out cold on the ground. “Oh,” you said, “guess you handled that.”

Kirishima gave out a nervous chuckle, a red hue on his cheeks as he looked away. “Uh, yeah…”

A sudden shiver ran down your spine, reminding you of your current state. You let out a shriek, your cheeks now on equal footing with your crush’s red hair. You tried your best to cover yourself, your cheeks getting hotter by the second. Your embarrassment growing as well, as the stupid teenage boys your age started cat whisling at you.

Kirishima couldn’t help his red cheeks when he saw you in your bra, turning his head as to respect your privacy, but as soon as he heard the cat calls, he snapped his head towards the source; a group is rowdy guys his age looking over your general direction.

Wait… were they whistling at you?!

Glancing at you he catches how you were squirming and red in the cheeks, uncomfortable.

Nope. Not happening.

Without much thought, he took off his t-shirt he was wearing, leaving him bare, and went over to hand it to you. “Here, you can use this to cover up,” he said, the heat not entirely have left his cheeks as he trained his eyes solely on your sparkling, (e/c) eyes.

“What about you?” You asked, timidly reaching the shirt.

“No worries. Let’s just cover you up first,” he smiled reassuringly.

Smiling back gratefully, you took the offered clothing and went about putting it on. Meanwhile the group of teens were practically drooling over your figure. That is until Kirishima stepped into their view, arms across his chest with a glare starring daggers and a warning directing at them, his huge hulking frame completely blocking you from their hungry eyes. Being shirtless allowed Kirishima’s hardcore muscles to be displayed in all of their glory. It seems the red head’s goal was working, considering the group all froze up at the sight of his 6’4” muscular build, with not an ounce of fat visible. It took a moment for one of them to unfreeze and quietly urge his companions to move along before the frightening stranger decided to beat them to a pulp.

Satisfied with their scampering away with their tails between their legs, Kirishima turns back around only to be met with your figure practically drowning in his t-shirt. The heat made a complete comeback to his cheeks.You looked so adorable standing there in his clothes.

Before long, the mall’s security made their way over where they took their statements and the unconscious robber and bid the two young heroes their grattitudes before moving along to wait for the police to come and take the criminal away. Once they left, the boy and his mother walked up to you two to give their thanks as well, with the boy excitedly asking for Red Riot’s and (h/n)’s autograph which you both happily gave him, along with a picture being taken. Once the boy was satisfied and proclaiming to never washing his shirt, he and his mother left.

Kirishima turned to you. “You sure you’re okay? You’re not hurt or anything?”

You gave him a reassuring smile as you walked over to the planter in which you had hid your purse. “I’m fine. The fire didn’t burn me or anything, but I might have a bruise from where it hit me. Nothing that I can’t handle.”

“Good, good,” Kirishima nervously rubbed the back of his head.

When you secured your purse over your shoulder, you grabbed his free hand and walked in the direction of the clothing store you usually shopped at. “C’mon. The sooner we get my clothes shopping started, the sooner you can have your shirt back.” Though you didn;t really want to part with his shirt. It was completely engulfing you in his scent, something musky and manly that made you swoon.

“Aw, you don’t like seeing me shirtless?” Kirishima teased.

Hell yes, you thought to yourself. You’d have to be blind or gay to not drool over his washboard abs and bulging biceps, which you were desperately trying not to do. You didn’t want to come off as a pervert but it was hard to ignore the butterflies furiously partying around in your stomach and the intense heat coming off your cheeks.

“Yes,” you whispered, hoping to God that he didn’t hear you. He did, of course, which gave both his ego and the heat in his cheeks a nice boost. Before he could comment on it, you started, “Here we are. This is where I like to buy my clothes.”

Looking up, Kirishima saw the both of you walking towards (insert favorite clothing store).

~~~~~

Mina, having been standing far enough away from you two so as not to be noticed, grinned and squealed and she happily clapped her hands and did a little happy dance. She had followed you two as to figure out how to get you and Kirishima close, but lo and behold a robber with a fire type quirk came along, albeit she hadn’t really planned for this part to happen at all, but when your shirt was set ablaze and you tore it off in a panic, she had the perfect plan.

She had walked up to the group of teens earlier all flirty and bribed them to go over and give you plently of unwanted attention for some extra cash. Though judging by their snarky appearance, she had bet it wouldn’t be too much trouble for them to start drooling all over you.

Mina did feel a bit bad, exposing you like that and making you uncomfortable, but for the sake of the personal, covert mission she assigned herself to get her two friends together, she knew it would be well worth it. Plus you had the gentle, red-headed giant with you to comfort you in your time of distress so she didn’t let it hold her back too much.

Having the group return a bit shaken from the encounter with Kirishima, one of them shakily asked the pinkette, “W-Was that good enough?”

Giving them her signature grin, Mina handed over a few yen bills as agreed upon. “Yup! Thanks for your help guys!”

Muttering a ‘no problem’, the males continued along their way, counting the money they’ve earned, undoubtedly planning on spending it on drinks or food. Mina glanced back at you two as you lead Kirishima to your favorite store, the giant red-head’s posture now screaming protectiveness over your dignity. She was well assured that her plan to give you guys he right nudge was a success, knowing that Kirishima was planning on confessing his love to you today from her little conversation with the other guys of the Bakusquad.

Satisfied with her work, the cheerful pinkette skipped her way to her favorite store as to buy the required snacks for their girl’s night that evening, confident that you wouldn’t be returning until much later that night after your date.

~~~~~

Right away, as soon as you two entered the store, you stop by a rack of clothes, excitedly sifting through the hanging clothes.

“Sooo…” Kirishima started. “Is there a specific reason why you’re getting new clothes? Or are you just getting them for the hell of it?” He asked, mindlessly lifting up a blouse, examining it and then putting it back, and that’s when he looked up. Immediately, he felt a sweat drop sliding down the side of his face at all the hungry, drooling ladies in the store shamelessly staring at his bare torso.

“Um, I guess you can say a bit of both,” you responded, checking out a blouse that seems to have caught your attention. “I accidentally burned some of my blouses when using my quirk.”

“How’d you managed that?” Kirishima found what appears to be a pink sleeping shirt that said ‘Donut Worry Be Happy’ with sprinkles all over and a donut in the middle. “Hey this is cute,” Kirishima said, showing you the shirt. He was silently begging you to get it, he knew you’d be adorable in it and he was desperate to see it in person.

You looked over to see the shirt your best friend was holding up. “Oh my god!” You squealed excitedly, taking the shirt from him. “I love this! I’m so getting this. Great find, Kiri!”

Once you turned around, Kirishima silently fist pumped in victory. “Well, anyway. You know how a magnifying glass can concentrate the sunlight and you can start fires with it? Well my quirk is kinda like that. And because of that, there has been more than one occasion where I accidentally burnt my clothes, as much I hate to admit it.”

“Oh, okay I get it,” Kirishima said.

After finding a couple more outfits, you dragged your very shirtless, very hot best friend to the dressing rooms to get his opinion on the outfits you chose. As you showed off the outfits you chose, to which Kirishima said that each one looked great on you.

You guys were started getting goofier, as time went on, you two acted as if you were in a fashion show, with you strutting around in a new outfit each time striking a new pose every minute, even going as far as fixing your hair in messy styles for each one, be it a quick, braid, bun, or ponytail.

As Kirishima patiently waited for you to step out with the next shirt, you called out. “Oh my god, I think this one is my favorite so far! I think this would great with heels though. Hey Kiri?”

“Yeah?”

“You see those heels I was eyeying earlier before we came to here?”

Looking to his left where the wall was covered with shelves and shelves of shoe boxes plus the ones on display, he sees the pair you were talking about. “The white heels, right?” He asked, already walking over to them.

“Yeah, can you see if they have (insert shoe size)?”

Mumbling the shoe size you gave him as he scanned the boxes, he spots the only size that you requested. “You are in luck, milady. There is only one left.”

“Thank you very much, my good sir,” you giggled reaching your hand out for the shoes without revealing the shirt you were wearing. “I’ll be but a moment,” you impersonated a proper tone hand and shoes disappearing behind the closed curtain again.

While Kirishima waiting idly (and trying his best to ignore the hungry stares still directed at him), he decided to ask for some dating intel in the form of small talk. “So hey, random question. Have you ever thought about dating?” Yeah, so not obvious. Way to go, Kirishima.

You paused your struggle with the second heel strap. “What kind of question is that? Of course I have.”

“Oh,” Kirishima simply said. “So, you have a crush on anyone?”

Staying in your position in front of the full-length mirror, you thought about it. Obviously, you had a big fat crush on the male just on the other side of the curtain, but was this his way of finding out if you liked anyone for himself or just out of curiosity? “Yeah… there is someone I really like, but I doubt he’s noticed me at all.”

“Oh? What’s he like?” Kirishima asked, nervous as all hell that you liked someone else.

“Well, he has spiky hair.. Gorgeous red eyes that shine like rubies… he looks intimidating as hell when you first see him, but actually nice once you get to know him… and he’s really handsome, too,” you blushed, lightly hugging yourself as you pictured Kirishima in your head.

Said male had gone quiet, his heart dropping all the way down into his stomach, the weight feeling like a bowling ball. Wait… Do… Do you have a crush on Bakugou?! “Oh… um… he-he sounds like a lucky guy,” Kirishima responded, trying to keep the tremor and disappointment out of his voice.

Dammit, am I too late? Kirishima cursed his reluctance at approaching you with his feelings.

“W-...What about you? Do you like someone?” You asked, heart hammering in your chest in anticipation to his answer.

“Yes,” he said, causing your heart to stop.

“What’s she like? She’s gotta be amazing for you to like her,” you tried to keep your voice cheery, happy that your best friend had found someone, but a whimper threatened to spill past your lips as tears gathered against your lower lashes, your bottom lip wobbly.

“She’s so amazing. She’s strong, and kind, and sweet, and she’s probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing,” Kirishima gushed, a dreamy look on his face. “She does (insert hobby 1), and (insert hobby 2), and she’s so good at it. And she can make some really delicious food, though she swears up and down the road that she’s not that great of a cook, but I can’t help but love every single bite of it.”

“That’s… that’s great,” you said, unable to keep out the tear-filled tone out of your voice.

“Wait, are you crying?!” Kirishima panicked.

You sniffled, hugging yourself tighter, “No.”

Kirishima stayed quiet for a moment. And deciding to be a man and take that leap of faith, he continued, “Though, I admit, she is a little dense.”

That caught you off guard. “Huh?”

“I mean, you would think she’d at least notice a little bit how much time I spend with her,” He said, laughing out loud, partly out of nerves. “Or how no matter the hour during the night, if she came to my dorm crying, I would drop everything to make her feel better, and will do the stupidest shit just to see her smile and laugh. Or how she is literally the sunshine of my life, and with her quirk, its just makes it even more true.”

Your eyes widened. Was he talking about someone with a quirk similar to yours? No, it couldn’t be, there was no possible way he was talking about you, it must be some huge coincidence.

“Or how whenever we go stargazing with each other at night, I have never looked up at the sky, not even once, before. No star, or constellations that she makes up could ever compare to the stars in her (e/c) eyes. (Y/N)... you’re just so perfect, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be good enough for you.”

You whipped around so fast, you actually tripped over the clothes that were scattered at your feet, causing you to curse as you fell, hitting you head against the wall of the dressing room with a rather loud thud as you fell right on your bottom.

Hearing the loud, resonating thud, Kirishima panicked and went into hero mode, rushing to pull back the curtain to see if you were harmed or not. Quickly finding you on the floor, tenderly rubbing the back of your head, your expression pinched with slight pain.

“Hey, are you okay?!” Kirishima worried, kneeling down to your level with his arms outstretched as if to catch you should you fall over all of a sudden.

“Yeah, just banged my ass and head is all,” you groaned, still tenderly rubbing the sore spot, sitting up more.

“Here, let me check your head.” Before you could protest that you were perfectly fine, Kirishima gently cradled your head and tenderly pushed your head forward so he could check out the damage that had been done. You instantly shut your mouth, your cheeks blooming into a rosy color at the close proximity, smelling his natural scent coming from his bare skin. “Well, you have a slight bump but that’s about it,” he concluded, letting your head go. “But I don’t know if you’ll end up with a concussion or not.”

You shoke your head, saying in a soft voice, “I doubt it. I’ve hit my head harder on missions.”

Once he was sure enough that you would be alright, it was then that he noticed what you were wearing and he couldn’t help but blush. It was a one sleeved crop top that showed a moderate amount of clevage, the end of it reaching above your cute belly button, and it was such a nice shade of red, almost reminding him of his hair color.

“That’s uh… That’s a really nice blouse,” he complimented, suddenly flustered at how beautiful you looked along with the blouse you were currently wearing looking up at him through your hair which was hanging down, eyes big and doe like.

Completely blanking on the compliment thrown your way, you continued to stare at him in awe as you processed what he had said earlier. “…Did you mean what you said?”

“Oh, uh,” his hand shot up to rub his neck nerviously, chuckling. “Well yeah, of course. It would be pretty unmanly if I lied. And… it would be pretty unmanly for me to not tell you how I feel about you.”

“H-How you feel…?” Kirishima prayed that that sparkle in your (e/c) eyes was hope as you subconsciously leaned closer to him in anticipation.

“I’m just- I’m gonna just come out and say it,” Kirishima said, more to himself though as to encourage himself. Taking a deep breath, reached out and ever so gently held your cheek as though you were fragile and can break at any moment, and looked into those sparkling (e/c) eyes he loved so much. “I really, really like you (Y/n). For a long time now.”

Tears gathered in your eyes as a brilliantly bright smile spread across your beautiful face, rivaling the sun. “Really?”

“Yes really,” Kirishima confirmed, your bright smile bringing forth a bright grin of his own.

“Am I dreaming?” You giggled nervously, hoping to god that he wasn’t pranking you or anything. It all seemed so surreal and like a dream. “You actually like me?”

Kirishima laughed. “I’ll even go as far as say I love you.”

You leaned forward until your forehead bumped with his hard chest, clenching your fists against him. “This isn’t a dream…” you whispered happily. “You actually like me.”

“And I would be just as happy if you will have me as your man,” Kirishima muttered into your hair, bringing his arms around you in a hug.

“Yes!” You didn’t hesitate in accepting his proposal. You squealed in delight as Kirishima squeezed you tight in his arms, rocking the both of you back and forth.

Pulling away, you were blinded by his bright grin. “Let’s go to the movies!”

“What, right now?” You giggled, wiping at your tears.

“Yes! We can do a movie and dinner date! I know the food court isn’t probably the most appealing, but I want to take you on a date right now, especially in that amazing outfit you have on now,” Kirishima rambled, his excitement reminding you of a hyper puppy dog.

“Okay, let’s do it!” You couldn’t help but share his excitement, completely forgetting the fact that you had girl’s night later that evening and the reason you came to the mall was to grab snacks for it.

Right away, Kirishima helped you pick up the clothes that you were going to buy, in the process, finding and putting on his own shirt, insisting that you keep the shirt and wedge heels on for you last minute date. The both of you were practically jumping at the seams with excitement as you went up to the register. Being the gentleman that he is, Kirishima tried insisting that he pay for the clothes and heels for you, but you argued that you were perfectly capable on paying for them on your own, the two of you continued going back and forth as the cashier looked between you two as you argued who was paying as she tried her best not to laugh.

Ultimately you allowed to pay for the shirt you were currently wearing, the sleep shirt he found and the heels, but no more. As you paid the cashier for all the other clothes, you laughed at Kirishima’s grumbling, reaching up to kiss away his pout. After paying, you two had decided to stop by the theaters in the mall to choose and pay for a movie, and this time you let Kirishima pay. As you awaited for the time of the movie, you walked around sharing a pretzel as a snack as you continue doing a bit more shopping, with Kirishima also buying you a stuffed animal because what kind of man would he be if he didn’t buy you a plushie as a memento of your first date?

On your way towards the food court, you could hear Kirishima humming My Only Sunshine with a satisfied expression on his face. “Are you really humming that?” You laughed.

Kirishima grinned down at you, lacing his fingers with yours and swinging your arms. “I can’t help it if you’re the light of my life.”

#kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha eijiro kirishima #bakusquad #minor nudity #mild cursing #aged up #ua #class 1a #fem!reader

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Was wondering if I could request a Dorian x Rogue Reader where the reader’s never really taken part in any sort of pageant event before and needs some guidance from the party’s resident performer? Love your writing by the way! Have a great day!

Thank you and I hope you like this one too. Have a nice day! 😘

Everyone’s picking out outfits, talking about the pageant and having fun doing so. Orym and Fy’ra have gotten out of participating in the pageant but you weren’t as lucky. Wether it’s because Opal is very convincing, you’re easily tempted, the prospects of a shiny crown or Dorian’s persuasion, you don’t know. Might just be all of the above but you’re apparently in now and will be participating and find yourself playing the part of dress up doll for Opal who’s put you in a grand total of twenty-seven outfits varying from big voluminous dresses to nice suits, some of which including some impractical but pretty armour.

Awkwardly you leave the dressing room. This dress she’s put you in is so poofy you can’t even lower your arms to your sides as the sheer volume of tule keeps them at an angle. You’re pretty sure you look about as comfortable as you feel. The only good part about this humongous ballgown is there’s loads of places to hide weapons and stuff you could possibly lift from people’s pockets among the yards upon yards of fabric. Opal is fawning over you, pulling at the fabric flouncing it up to adjust the layers. Dorian notices your feelings about this twenty-eighth outfit and steps in to save you from the pageant expert.

“Maybe not this one? It doesn’t really do much for their figure, wouldn’t you agree?” Opal taps her lips at Dorian’s suggestion. The genasi has a point. The majority of your features get lost in the garment and no amount of accessorising can fix that. She scrunches her brow and nods. You let out a breath of relief hoping to be done with this. Not like you mind shopping but dressing up in this many outfits is exhausting and you can’t wait to be done. Why can’t you just pick a random one off the rack and call it a day? Lesson of the day; never go pageant shopping with a pageant girl. You’ll be at this for hours.

“Yeah. Too much volume. Maybe we should go back to something more formfitting. I think I saw a couple of outfits that would work much better.” Opal’s words make your breath hitch and you keep in a groan at the mention of more things to try on as the girl scurries off to find the things she saw and you’re left with Dorian. Turning to him as you finish staring after Opal and praying to the gods these new outfits she’s looking for would just spontaneously combust before they made their way back to you, you grab the genasi by the cloak, both hands clutching on tightly.

“Save me, Dorian. Please have mercy and save me from this hell.” You beg. Dorian presses his lips together tightly as to not let the laughter escape. He’ll have to admit it’s very funny to see you so completely and utterly out of your element but he also feels for you.

“I reckon we have about ten minutes before Opal returns. Only way to stop her is finds something you like and suits you well. Blow her away with whatever you find. As long as you look as uncomfortable as you feel, She’ll keep coming with the outfits.” Dorian’s right nothing will satisfy Opal as much as you feeling as comfortable and pretty as they know you are, regardless of you admitting it or not. The problem is, you don’t even know where to start looking. This shop, it’s all just a needle in a haystack for you.

“You have to help me find something and quickly! I don’t think I can take another hoop skirt or waistcoat. I might just faint.” Dorian clasps your hands over his and releases your grasp on his cloak. He offers you a confident smile that somewhat eases your fears of the intimidating woman on fashion spree. Dorian pulls you along to the racks, using one hand to browse while holding yours tightly clasped in the other giving it a soft squeeze whenever you look over your shoulder and around to find Opal and her growing heap of clothes.

“So we’ve eliminated any big skirts and traditional suits. How do you feel about something fitted and flowy?” Dorian brushes his fingers over the shoulder of a smocked shirt. You stare down at the poofy mess you’re still stuck in like a butterfly in a net.

“Uhhh, as far away from any ballgowns as we can get please. I don’t mind a bit of a cinch.” You say as Dorian picks up something akin to a corset with set in with decorative chainmail pieces. He holds it up to your body, purses his lips and puts it back not the rack. Not really your style. You need something fierce and practical, something that shows off your features just right but won’t be wearing you and will still make you feel comfortable in your own skin.

Then he spots it. This will look perfect on you. A dark navy blue fitted top with a deep v-neck nearly down to the bellybutton, and fitted sleeves. The matching leather pants also are fitted and somewhat resemble what you normally wear, though these are much less weathered. Over this all goes a very long trained chiffon robe rhinestoned like the night’s sky held together by an ornate silver clasp at the waist. When Dorian pulls it from the rack and holds it up to you you don’t know wether to fear or feel relieved at the look he gives you. Before you know it you’re being rushed back to the dressing room. Dorian helps you out of the monstrosity of the gown you’re in and leaves you to change into the new outfit as he distracts Opal long enough before she can return with the pile she’s gathered.

You never doubted Dorian to have style but this takes it to a whole new level. This is perfect. It fits in all the right places and whatever he said about it showing when you feel uncomfortable in a garment, it’s true as when you see yourself in the mirror that fully disappears and instead you feel confident. It may not have any protective properties like your usual armour does but it sure feels like you could take on the world right now. You’re badass, beautiful and confident.

When you step out of the dressing room you can already see Dorian mid argument with Opal who wanted to barge in, arms filled with clothes of all kind and the shop assistant being with whatever she couldn’t carry, huffing and puffing under the weight of it all. Their attention turns to you. Dorian’s attention turns to you and he doesn’t know how but you take his breath away. You look absolutely stunning. You look like a deity from the stars themselves, the energy you radiate does you justice and if he ever even had an ounce of doubt (he never did) it only shows your natural beauty more than ever.

“Oh. My. Gods.” Opal exclaims as she drops all the fabric in her arms rushing over to you, inspecting your new outfit, gushing about how it fits and how you should style your hair, maybe do some makeup to match the ‘star-effect’ of the robe for cohesion. You can’t even keep up anymore but let her ramble on. She tells the assistant you’d found your outfit and the assistant exasperatedly begins picking up the pile she dropped to put back on the racks. No more fittings for you. Opal’s satisfied and you’re safe. You offer Dorian a look of gratitude and he winks back, not daring to interrupt the fashion tyrant dressed in pink.

——————

Backstage before your turns in the pageant you get a moment alone with Dorian as the two of you watch the other candidates. You’re panicking as Dorian pulls up your hair, adding a comb to keep it in place and add some flare. You have no idea where he got it nor dare you ask right now, just thankful he’s been doing what he can to ease your nerves. This is not your thing. Prancing around like some trick pony is not your thing. You stick to the shadows, at most mingle with society using honeyed words to get what you need or want but this is a whole new world and you feel as if your skills are useless in this environment.

“You’re going to be okay. All you have to do is answer the question. It doesn’t take much more than a charming answer to persuade the judges. No different than persuading a shopkeeper to give you a better deal.” Dorian adjusts the comb before removing his hands and taking a step back to inspect his work. He taps your shoulder and has you turn around. It doesn't take a genius to see you’re nervous and the jitters are clear through your bouncing leg as you sit staring up at him, panic in your eyes and breathing hitching high in your chest visible through your partially exposed collarbones.

“Yeah but getting a better price on potions doesn’t have a crowd a few hundred large to witness it. What if I say something wrong? What if they don’t like me?” Dorian kneels in front of you, stroking your cheek and hand on your shoulder.

“Deep breath.” You do as you feel his thumb run across your cheek, the gesture alone calms your nerves a little bit and pulls you back to this world. You nod to signal you’re good.

“This is no different that the real world. If you say something wrong, own it. Make them think it’s intentional. There’s very few things you could say that you couldn’t own or turn into something funny.” Dorian assures you. You place a hand over his on your cheek and press a kiss to his wrist as a thank you as he continues.

“As for them not liking you, I don’t see how the couldn’t instantly be mesmerised. You are gorgeous, intelligent, resourceful. If they don’t eat you up and admire you for who you are they don’t deserve you.” The next candidate is called to the stage and both of you know you’ll be up soon. You’re glad Dorian’s pep talk is working and you can feel the affection from him. If only he knew how much it means to you to have him here. Then again, you’ve told him plenty of times how amazing he is.

“Why are they walking all weirdly getting on stage?” You raise an eyebrow as the next candidate places one foot directly in front of the other, walking on their tiptoes more than their full feet.

“Watch the hips.” You do as Dorian says and you can see their hips swaying as they walk adding just a little bit more flare to that strut. You have to say, it kinda looks good. Maybe you should give it a try?

“Could you, I don’t know teach me? I know how to sway hips but this, this goes beyond me.” You gesture to the candidate stopping at Ruby to answer the question. Dorian looks a little taken aback but rises to his feet pulling you with him. He never thought he’d ever be teaching anyone how to walk the walk and is pretty sure he’ll get some weird looks from the others but he doesn’t really care if it makes you happy and more confident about this whole pageant. He puts his hands on your hips as you stand facing each other but keeps a bit of a distance between he two of you so you can still take the steps as you would on your own.

“Okay, so first things first. You want to keep your steps on the same line. See it like walking on a narrow ledge or a tightrope. You want to stick to balancing on your toes and keep a bounce in your knees. Don’t lock them too much. Light on your feet.” Dorian guides you forward as he steps backwards with you guiding you along, tapping whatever hip is swaying next. Your movement is a bit rigid at first but before you know it you’re doing it and Dorian steps away to let you strut without his help. You’re a natural. He gives pointers as you turn but you have the walk down in no time.

Then your name is called. The panic returns for a second but is overshadowed by your newfound confidence. You look the part, you got the act down so act the part too. Confidently you strut down to Dorian, give him a seductive look as you stroke his cheek following his jawline. He’s gotta say, he likes this look on you but can see the glee break through your seduction.

“What would I have done without my handsome hero in blue?” You smile and give him a kiss.

“Still be stuck in that dressing room with Opal probably? You look stunning. Go show them exactly what you’re made of.” Dorian encourages you, a hue of purple spreading lightly across his cheeks as he watches for any witnesses to your moment. Holding on to his cheek as long as you can stepping backwards you offer him one last wink and blowing him a kiss before you turn and strut onto the stage ready to play. Who knew pageants could be fun after all.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #exu x reader #exandria unlimited x reader #dorian x reader #dorian storm x reader #critical role #critrole #exu #exandria unlimited

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baticorngirl · 3 years

Text

Title: Scribbles of Love

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship(s): Talia Al Ghul/Bruce Wayne (Brutalia), Talia Al Ghul & Unnamed Child, Bruce Wayne & Unnamed Child,

Characters: Talia Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Minor Original Character(s),

Summary: Miraculously, Bruce and Talia have been married for quite a long time now. In fact, their first year anniversary is coming around the corner, and it's suddenly dawned on Bruce that he doesn't have anything to give her. He soon decides he wants to give her a love poem, but there's only one problem: Bruce sucks at writing poetry. As the anniversary comes closer and closer, will Bruce manage to write a half-decent love poem in time?

A/N: This fic is for @brutalia-week Day 1: “I made it for you”. It takes place in an alternate universe where Batman: Son of the Demon worked out. I think that’s all you need to know before you begin, so... enjoy!

(The fanfic is under the line below, but if you’d prefer to, you can also read it on Ao3(x) and FF.net (x)!)

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Talia was training, as usual. Her feet were planted to the ground like a tree's deep roots, with her knees bent ever so slightly to get a good stance. The smile on her face was soft, but she made sure her strikes were anything but. Like Ra's has taught her so many years back, her moves were smooth and fast, a bit graceful… but powerful. The sword in her hand would've demolished anything in its path, as it zoomed around the room…. if she had been aiming for anything but an imaginary opponent, that is. Her hair flew into the air as she abruptly bent down (while still attempting to keep her feet as well-planted as possible) to swipe her "opponent's" feet. She pulled up and jumped, imagining that they were doing the same move back to her. Continuing to imagine each move, her arm twisted and turned to hit their sword back every time, getting faster and faster and faster and faster and…..

Knock, knock. Talia pulled herself up, mentally clearing herself from the perilous fight, at the sound of knuckles softly pounding on the door. "Come in," She called, slowly trotting over to the door. Just outside the door, Batman stood. His cowl was casually flung back to uncover his real face, and as he began to pull on his gloves and belt, it became clear he was about to get out of the vigilante gear. He sighed, neglecting to look at her as the pulling became more of just fidgeting and less of actually pulling them off.

"I… have to go." He began, his eyes still looking off into the distance. "It's just… a… small errand. I won't be long. Maybe an hour or two, but….. I can't keep watching the baby while I'm gone so I figured I should let you know." He immediately turned and began walking away as soon as he had conveyed the necessary information. Talia's eyebrow rose, noticing the odd behavior, but quickly shrugged it off. Her husband always acted secretive, so she doubted there was anything to worry about.

"Okay, Beloved. Farewell!" She quickly leaned in to kiss him on the cheek a moment before he left. Batman turned back towards her, his classic vacant expression turning into a smile for a moment. It only took less than a moment to go back to normal, though, as he quickly continued walking and went into a walk-in closet to get ready for his "errand". Once he was out of sight, Talia made her own way over to the baby's nursery in the opposite direction.

She swiftly picked the baby up, watching as the baby's eyes lit up in a giggle. The baby continued to smile and laugh even more as she kissed his small, round little nose. Talia rocked her child in her arms, ambling around the nursery. Soon, the high-pitched laughter had faded into the peaceful squeaks of a sleeping infant. The baby was slowly set back down into his crib. Talia patted his little head as gently as she could, before setting up the baby monitor and going to a nearby room to train a bit more.

Meanwhile, Bruce had just arrived at what he had told Talia was just an errand. He went into the front door, and was greeted by a friendly-looking person, sitting on a lounge chair just a few feet in. They smiled at him, and motioned for him to sit down at one of the many desks spaced around the room.

"Welcome. You're a bit early, so we'll just be getting started in a few minutes." They explained. He simply nodded in return. Luckily for him, they seemed to be unaware of his fame back in Gotham. Talia had still been doing some work under Ra's, and so they hadn't been in Gotham for quite a while due to where her father wanted her. Bruce had been enjoying the lack of fame and the dreaded paparazzi through their whole trip, and this was no exception.

Silence followed for a few moments. They both looked down their laps, unsure what to do or say. Awkwardness plagued them both, but eventually, the person in front of Bruce decided to start talking again to get rid of it.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Riley, what's your name?" They asked, reaching a hand out to shake hands. Bruce put his hand out as well, and they shook for a few seconds before he answered the question.

"My name is B-" He quickly got interrupted by a flood of people coming in. The clock had finally ticked that it was 10:00, meaning it was the exact time to start. Everyone sat down quietly. Riley jumped up from their chair, rushing up to the front.

"Welcome to this poetry class, everyone. I assume all of you are here to improve your knowledge of poetry to a level beyond what you were taught in school, or possibly even to build up to a career as a poet. My name is Riley, and I'm your instructor." They explained, and a wave of nodding ran through their audience. Bruce nodded, but stared for a moment in awe of the fact that he hardly remembered even just what he had been taught in school about poetry. He looked down at the desk in front of him, the idea finally occurring to him that maybe focusing all his later teenage years on training to become Batman instead of paying attention to High School was a mistake.

But there was nothing he could do about it now. Poetry hadn't ever been necessary until this situation. But here he was, lying to Talia that he was just "going out on an errand", because there was absolutely no way he could write her a love poem without extra help. It was an embarrassment, really, but poetry just wasn't one of his strong points. It required so much emotion, so much expression of it, and expressing his emotions just wasn't something Bruce naturally did.

"Of course, this is more of a beginner class, so even though some of you may become poets some day, we'll be starting with the basics for today's class." Riley continued the class introduction. Bruce sighed in relief. Perhaps he would actually be able to follow what the instructor was talking about, and be able to give Talia a half-decent poem when it was over. "First of all, most good poems have a lot of figurative languages. These are things that stretch the literal meanings of the words you use, and create an image or effect using them. Some examples are how saying 'Your eyes looked like stars' is a simile, a type of figurative language. There's also metaphors, which are essentially the same thing, but without using the word 'like'."

Bruce thought about this for a moment, and got out a piece of paper to attempt to start his poem with some figurative language. "What's Talia like?" He mumbled, remembering everything about her that he loved so much. She was such a good fighter, and yet kind of graceful, which he was sure he could relate to something, so he took note of that. Her eyes were kind of jewel-like, shiny and beautiful, and her dark brown hair was like chocolate, so he wrote that down, as well.

But most of all, what he loved about her was how much she tried for love. Even though everyone would say that her fighting abilities are her greatest power, her secret weapon, Bruce knew none of those meant anything. Not without the love she used those abilities for, at least. He wasn't quite sure how to say this poetically, though, so he decided to get back to it later.

Eventually, the class ended, and Bruce came back home. Then, next week, he went back to the class and continued to work on his poem. Every week this continued, until their anniversary came around. By then, his poem was nowhere near perfect, but he had tried. There was no way he could back out now, after spending so much time working on it.

Bruce stuffed the poem inside his pocket, and went to their room to get Talia. She sat on a stool, brushing her hair nonchalantly. She had already gotten changed into a beautiful dress, going down to her ankles with embroideries. Bruce stared for a moment, thunderstruck. An embarrassingly goofy smile was on his face, but he quickly shook it off and returned to his default, impassive expression.

"Are you ready, Talia?" Bruce asked, reaching his hand out to help her up. Talia got up herself, but took his hand anyway, nodding. Both bringing along a present, the couple held hands as they made their way to the car. They were planning on going to a fancy restaurant for their anniversary, and exchanging gifts after dinner.

"I can't believe it's been a year since we finally got together, Beloved." Talia said once they were in the car, smiling, "It's been so happy. We were so sad, and we kept having to reject each other, but then this happened, and now… I don't think anything will ever get in between us again." She clutched her necklace, thinking back to the time, almost a year ago, that he had given it to her. For once, she could think about that kind of time with pure joy and hope, instead of longing.

"Yes… I don't usually consider myself cheerful, but you're right. I honestly don't think we could be happier." Bruce looked down at his lap, lost in thought. "That baby is going to have everything. Our love, a family, a home, and of course, happiness. We've really done it." He mumbled.

Talia nodded, right as they pulled up to the restaurant. She scooched out of the car, pulling Bruce along with her. They went inside together, got seated, and ordered their food. As they waited, they decided it might be fun to give each other hints about the presents.

"I'm going to give you two gifts, technically." Bruce explained, feeling his pocket for the poem, plus the earrings he was going to give her along with it. "One's just…. A fairly basic anniversary gift. But the other thing, well, it's a bit more from the heart… I suppose. I don't know, I tried to make it special." He sighed.

Talia smiled, "That sounds wonderful, Beloved. I can't wait to see it." Bruce gulped at the thought that he may have gotten his hopes up for his half-baked writing, but she didn't seem to notice his nerves. "I just got you something basic, too, but it's the sort of thing that's customized to be quite special."

"That sounds wonderful, too." He replied, reaching across to put his hand on top of hers romantically. She wrapped her hand around his in reciprocation. They both leaned in to kiss, smiling.

"Here is your food," They both got knocked out of their romantic moment by the sound of their waiter's voice. They both pulled out of the kiss, and leaned back on to their own chairs. "Oh, was I interrupting something?" The waiter asked with a chuckle, before setting down both their dishes in front of the one who ordered it.

The waiter left, and both Talia and Bruce ate dinner. They talked and smiled as they ate, both attempting to get the other one to slip up and tell them what their present was, with little to no success. Soon, both Bruce and Talia were finished eating, and they quickly got out their presents.

Talia picked up a bag that Bruce had noticed she'd been carrying along throughout the trip, and reached inside. Out she pulled a little box, wrapped in bright, colorful, wrapping. She pushed it in front of Bruce, grinning.

"Go ahead, open it." She insisted. Bruce slowly began to peel the wrapping off, and opened the box that was inside the wrapping. Inside was a beautiful pendant, covered in small gems of all kinds of shapes and colors. The jewels sparkled, almost like magic, and a smile grew on Bruce's face.

"It's… beautiful." He commented, flipping it over in his hands cautiously. He stared, mesmerized at all the jewels. His fingers clutched it tightly. Talia's grin only grew. He was even more happy with it than she thought he'd be, and he hadn't even opened it yet.

"Open the pendant, it's even specialer inside." She nudged, slightly impatient. Listening to her words, Bruce gently flipped the pendant open. Inside, there was a picture of their sweet little baby. Talia reached over, touching a little bump on the back. He flipped it over, realizing it was a knob. Talia turned it, and the image changed to a picture of herself. "There's quite a few different pictures in it, and the knob changes it. I tried to get all of your closest loved ones, plus a picture of yourself in case you're ever in the mood to be vain." She laughed.

Bruce pulled it closer to himself to see it better, and began switching the knob between them all. "I… I love it." He leaned over to her, quickly pecking her on the cheek. "It's perfect." Her smile grew even more than it already had as he opened it. Bruce adjusted the knob to be on Talia again, and put it on.

"I'm really glad." Talia reached over and squeezed Bruce's hand. "Now, would you like to get out what you're giving me?" She beamed with excitement, almost as much as she had beamed when he opened his own. Bruce pulled the earrings out of his pocket, and nudged them in front of his wife.

"I suppose I thought you might like those, but I put a lot more effort into my other gift." Bruce spoke cautiously, too focused to let himself smile anymore. Talia took the earrings, which were actually quite beautiful and expensive, and exchanged the earrings she was wearing currently with them. As she does that, he pulls his poem out of his pocket. "I wrote you something. I know you were probably concerned about how I kept going out at the same time each week without telling you where I was going, but that was just because I had to take a writing class if I wanted to make this even slightly decent."

Talia frowned, "You keep a lot of secrets, but it's nice to know that at least one of them was out of love, and not fear or mistrust. Either way, thank you for the earrings. They are more than beautiful." She let go of the frown quickly after getting it, and gestured for Bruce to go on. "Now, I'm more than excited to hear what you've made. Go ahead."

"When you are here, I can only think about you, But even when you are far, I simply do it with longing, too;

I love you all the time, Day… or night, In the ocean, ground, or even sky, And this why:

Your eyes look like jades, And your smile like beauty in a solid form; You hair looks like silky chocolate, Your entire body is something I adore;

You are stronger than you seem, But so very graceful, as well; You fight stronger than a demon, With an angel's good intent, and morale;

Yes, you move like a swan, But much, much, more than that:

You love deeper than anyone could ever know, Just something that you have taught yourself, Your intentions are more than just moral, But an emotion, in itself;

So with that much personality, It is my honor to be able to love you back."

Bruce spoke the poem as clearly as he could, trying not to stutter or chicken out. It felt odd, showing this much emotion, but in a good way. Once he was finished, he looked up from his poem, smiling. Talia was rubbing her cheeks, wiping away the tears that had formed. Bruce leaned over to kiss the unoccupied hand, desperately attempting to make the moment even more romantic.

Before he had leaned back on to his own chair, Talia quickly pulled him into a kiss, "I love it, Beloved. Almost as much as I love you." She took the paper from Bruce's hand, folding it up and putting it in her pocket. "If you don't mind, I want to be able to remember this moment. Forever."

"Of course," Bruce said, trying to pretend he wasn't surprised that she had liked his poem so much. Perhaps she was simply humoring him to spare his feelings, but if she was, she was doing an incredibly good job at it.

They quickly paid for the meal. Bruce and Talia both beamed as they rode off into the night, hand in hand.

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A/N: Okay, now that you're done, some disclaimers:

I am not necessarily saying Bruce's poem was actually bad. He views it as bad, and it's certainly not perfect, but... I'm not necessarily saying it's bad myself, if that makes sense, (although I definitely did purposely not spend too much time on it when I was writing this).

Also, I'm not sure where this fanfic takes place, lol. It's just not in Gotham, but the rest if up for interpretation.

Oh, and I'm aware this entire fanfic is quite boring. The plot isn't very interesting, I'm afraid, but... oh well.

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fragileizywriting · 3 years

Text

locker talk (chapter 2) is out now!

pairing: Luka / Marinette (Viperion / Multimouse) word count: 8,961 / 16,208 (in total) chapter: 2/3 rating: E summary: “Is everything okay? You’re looking a little lost. Did something happen at Uni, again?” “I’m peachy,” Multimouse wheezes, snapping back into focus. What was she even doing here, again? What was the point of showing up? She can’t even remember. Right. Right. Seduce him. Sort of. Or at least confess. Or at least get to kiss him again… “Perfectly peachy. Everything is so much wetter— better— now that I’m here. Nothing happened at school— I just— oh gooseberries.” Luka barks out a laugh, running his fingers through his hair. She wonders if his hair is as soft as it looks.

AO3 | Start Here | Chapter One Link | You Are Here! | Chapter Three Link

Thank you so much for the love you've given me for this fic! I appreciate every single one of you so much 💕💕💕💕

The third chapter will be posted very soon!!!

She’s showered. She’s shaved. She’s gotten shampoo in her eye.

She hopes the redness isn’t noticeable.

Multimouse is many things— friendly, approachable, known as Paris’s sweetheart with many sweet bakery treats named after her using puns, such as Multi-feuille, or Multideleines— but they have no idea that she sits on top of the Liberty’s roof, wiggling her toes over the Seine, trying not to bite her lips raw at the thought of trying to seduce the guy she’s already had a feverish moment with.

It’s a soft night, with small dots of twinkling stars that burn and force their way through the light-polluted Parisian night, but she doesn’t mind how it’s dark enough out that no one can really see her unless they purposely go looking for her. She’s practically invisible, with the closest street lamp to her still being too far away for her to be illuminated by it. No one knows that she’s here— no one knows that she’s hiding in the shadows.

Quiet— quaint— small and hidden away like an actual mouse that sticks to the shadows so that she isn’t seen. She’s not sure if it’s Mullo’s instincts that coerce her to stick to the shadows or if it’s just her nerves.

After all— getting here, onto the Liberty, was half of the battle for her.

She’s never done this before. She’s never even considered this an option… how does she do this? She doesn’t even have a solid plan.

And Multimouse never not has a plan.

Even if she knows that Viperion— no, Luka— likes her, thinks about her sexually— she just can’t shake the feeling that her confession isn’t going to work out in her favor, that she’s going to walk away embarrassed and humiliated.

She can prepare and prepare again and over prepare for whatever she’s planning all she wants— but it’s the actual doing part that she usually gets stuck on. She can shower, she can shave, she can get shampoo in her eyes— she can text Juleka to maybe casually imply that she’s going to try to confess to her brother, not mentioning that she’s going to do it as her superhero identity instead of Marinette, and actually get Juleka to push everyone out of the house on one nice and evening Friday night— but none of that matters if she doesn’t actually get here.

She got here.

And now is dawdling on the next step— actually talking to him.

She has to try. Juleka had cleared the boat of stragglers in record time when she found out that she’d been planning on confessing to her brother— Multimouse seriously has no idea how the girl managed to get her mother off the boat, but she’s gone. It’s just him in there now. She’s grateful that she doesn’t have access to her nails to chew them through, because she’s shaking like a battery from how much her nerves consume her.

She plays with her necklace between her hands as she leans forward to put her elbows on her thighs, looking out to the water below— looking down at how the only open-blind window on the boat flickers with light as he passes next to it.

It sounds like he’s finished taking his shower— but all of it is really muffled, given that he lives in the equivalent of a metal can with sails— but either way, she stands up and starts to creep her way towards the front entrance of his house before she can convince herself that this is a bad idea and that she should turn around and book it and pretend that she never thought of this idea in the first place. Besides, it can’t be that bad of an idea, right?

This is a bad idea.

This is a very bad idea— oh— oh no.

She barely finishes knocking on the window next to the door before he pulls it open with a yelp and a curse spilling out of his lips, halfway through putting on his shirt. She stands there, transfixed, trying not to burst into flames as she catches the sight of toned and defined muscle from years of hard-earned wins against Hawkmoth disappear behind the widest shirt in existence with a heavy-metal band logo she’s never heard of, and how those muscles trail down and disappear into very low-riding sweatpants.

She knows he has muscles— she knows how big his arms are and that the pattern of his scales on his suit aren’t just to give the illusion of abs— because she’s seen him many times before with barely anything of a shirt on when the summer heat in Paris is too rough and everyone piles onto the Liberty to attempt to catch a draft.

She’s seen the way his back muscles move when he’s helping tear down stage sets for his band— she’s had many glass bottles of soda slip out of her hands at the sight of him naturally keeping up with Ivan and Kim’s strength— she’s seen all of it. Luka is nothing short of strong.

But now she knows just how it feels to have those same muscles pressed up against her. She might faint. “Uhm.”

“Hey! Sorry— I didn’t know you were going to come over tonight— you scared me with that knock. I thought I had the whole boat to myself.” Luka smiles at her, using his arm with the snake tattoo that wraps and coils around his forearm to pull out a couple necklaces of his own from underneath his shirt. Even though the shirt is wide, it seems to have a bit of a problem wrapping comfortably around his shoulders— and the neckline is wide enough to show his collarbones.

What does she even focus on? What does she want to look at the most?

“Sorry—” She blinks fast. Shirt. Chest. Arms. Sweatpants. Smile. Lips. Lips that bruised her neck so badly she had to keep her hair down for the entire week just to hide it from Alya’s enthusiastic gaze. Kissable lips. Lips she imagines all over her body all the time. Lips that— “S-sorry! Uhm. I’m just, uh— I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“I’m kidding, Mousey—” He’s all teeth when he smiles. She knows how those feel on her skin now, too— she knows how it feels to have him drag his mouth and lips all over her jaw— she has to lean against the door frame to stop herself from collapsing from how much she wants to feel it all over again. Her skin feels sensitive just at the thought. “I just got out of the shower and it was totally quiet out there. Really did think it was just going to be a quiet night by myself. Even mom’s out— probably went to go harass that last cop that gave her warning for the noise complaint. What do you think?”

Had he thought about her in the shower? He’s not flushed at all— nothing indicative of anything he had said inside the closet about how he’s always thinking of her— but Luka’s usually not one to lose his cool. It’s impossible to get a gauge out of his emotions when he hides it— something he’s incredibly good at when he’s Viperion. She’s shown up after his shower— presumably the time where he thinks about her in the most private way— and there’s absolutely nothing telling her that it’s true.

She never would’ve known if he hadn’t told her in the closet.

Assuming he even was telling the truth…

“Mousey?”

She snaps back into focus. “Oh! Right! Uhm— are you busy? D-do you want me to leave? Come back another time? When you’re not busy? Very busy?”

“Busy? Yeah, right,” He snorts good humoredly. “Busy on my laptop watching videos, probably. This place is an absolute bust when there’s no one here— you’re doing me a favor by being here.”

“S-so you don’t want me to leave?” She eeps. If he even makes one single implication that he doesn’t want her to show up, she’ll turn around and leave with no hesitation— her nerves are eating at her to the point where she’s ready to run anyways.

“No, of course not. Stay. Please.” He adjusts his necklaces to stop tangling with each other. They jingle when they hit together— a pleasant clinking noise on a pleasant night, but she’s busy taking in how shiny and pearlescent his arm is with the beautiful blue color on the coils of the snake’s body and how it matches the gold diamond shapes in strategic places. “You’re always welcome here, you know. I love it when you’re here.”

“Yep— yes. Totally.”

His hair is so much blacker and so much more bluer when it’s wet. She can’t stop staring at him, her mouth shaped into a circle, as he looks down at her with a shift in his brows when he’s stopped focusing on his necklaces. “You okay?”

“Wet.”

He blinks very slowly, speaking to her so softly, almost as if she’ll scamper off if he startles her. “Oh. Are you?”

“I meant— I meant your hair—” She squeaks, trying her best not to catch on fire from the way her cheeks heat and steam, waving her hands in the air, steaming harder when he laughs. “Sorry— oh my gooseberries I’m so sorry— that was so weird I didn’t mean to say that outloud, I mean, I just, I didn’t know you wash your hair at night— uhm— it just caught me by surprise!”

“Take a breath,” He smiles.

“Sorry,” She does.

“You need to work on your meditation again, you’re not focusing as well as you usually do.” He tilts his head with a wink. She tries her best not to follow the drops of water down his neck, down to where there’s a very obvious bruise on the side of his neck. Oh. Oh. She did that. She… she did that. She bit him. And grinded on him. And listened to him talk about how much he wanted to finger her— “Is everything okay? You’re looking a little lost. Something happen at Uni again?”

“I’m peachy,” She wheezes, snapping back into focus. What was she even doing here, again? What was the point of showing up? She can’t even remember. Right. Right. Seduce him. Sort of. Or at least confess. Or at least get to kiss him again… “Perfectly peachy. Everything is so much wetter— better— now that I’m here. Nothing happened at school— I just— oh gooseberries.”

He barks out a laugh, running his fingers through his hair. She wonders if his hair is as soft as it looks. “Alright, let’s backtrack for a bit so you get your focus back. Do you not wash your hair at night?”

She’s so thankful for this man.

“My hair is too thick for that, I need to wash it in the mornings or it’ll never dry.” She ignores her voice crack. What is she doing, talking about hair care at his door, eyes missile-locked onto the bite mark on his neck? Why is she like this? “A-anyway! Sorry to— drop in on you— I know it’s really late— uhm— I just wanted to, uh— talk? To you? Maybe? But, again, it’s okay if you’re busy— watching videos is always really fun, isn’t it? I totally won’t mind—”

“You’re thinking too much, Mousey.” He grins. “It’s fine. I’ve never not wanted you here before, right? Let’s shut the door before someone sees you.”

As if Paris would believe anyone gossipping about Paris’s sweetheart dropping by a houseboat in the middle of the city, chatting up a man only a year older than her during the night time. She’s pretty sure that everyone is convinced that she’s perpetually stuck at the age of fifteen, instead of twenty four— always too small and too cinnamon roll and too pure to be sneaking into men’s houses, because that’s not what Multimouse does.

Sometimes being adored by millions and being put on a pedestal by this city is taxing. She doesn’t mind being considered sweet and friendly— but it’s exhausting to have to hear the slight infantilization the city ends up pushing on her. Maybe she should try cursing in public during a fight— see how many people she ends up disappointing.

She wonders if Luka hates being considered the silent, brooding type. He’s approachable— but most people on the internet and Alya’s commenters on the blog assume that he’s dark— mysterious— handsome and well spoken almost like a prince.

If only.

He has a mouth of a sailor. She’s seen him get coffee foam up his nose from laughter whenever she tries the aerial rope and continuously ends up failing. He doesn’t know how to swim, even though he lives on a boat— he writes so much music in his notebooks that his room is an absolute mess of paper that he tries to keep organized using folders and binders and sticking loose leafs of poetry on the walls.

The last time they watched a documentary about penguins, he’d cried the whole way through, talking about how he wishes he could help all the exhausted and freezing little chicks. Not to mention whenever there’s a documentary about rodents on the television, he ends up crying too, smothering her in hugs that makes her face burst into flames.

The comments did get it right about the handsome, though. Very handsome.

“A-are you sure?”

“Come on. I want you inside.”

She closes the door behind her, making sure that her tail isn’t snipped off on accident, trying not to loop the words come and I and want and you in her head. Even with all the nasty, absolutely dirty things he’s said to her already— somehow that manages to get her knees to almost buckle.

“So, uhm, is your family home? Juleka? Maybe?” Her voice is absolutely not this high! Get it together!

He blinks at her curiously, thinning his lips as he no-doubt tries to keep his laughter in. Luka’s always been a tease. “You know the answer to that, don’t you?”

Does he mean that he knows that Marinette was supposed to show up to his house? Oh, no. What has she done? Was it a bad idea telling Juleka to possibly go to Rose’s house, and maybe spend the night there, if all went well? How does she get out of this one? “W-well— I—”

“Best hearing in Paris, after all, right? You’d be able to hear if anyone else was on the boat with us.”

Duh. God, she feels like an idiot. “Y-yeah. I know. I just— I just wanted to know. To hear you say it, I mean.”

“Did you?” His face transforms into one full of humor, and she can do nothing but bite her lip raw at how handsome he is when his eyes crinkle in that boyish way of his. “What did you want to hear me say, Mousey?”

Anything. Everything. As long as he keeps talking, she’ll be miserable— but loving every moment of it, and he’ll have no idea because Luka doesn’t know that she knows he’s Viperion and thinks about his voice so often that she’s constantly balancing on a hair trigger.

“Uhm—” She taps her fingers along her thighs. “I— you know— I just wanted to hear you say that we’re alone.”

“Only that?” He hums, turning around to go probably drop off his towel back in the bathroom.

“Yes?” She’s never been so unsure before in her life, and she flounders as she follows him further into the boat, following him into his room just past the kitchen. “I mean yes obviously— why would I— need or want more— uhm— that would be— weird and definitely wouldn't make any contextual sense— I mean it’s not as if I—”

He pauses to look at her. She does her absolute best not to burst into flames. “You know, I’ve never realized it until now— you are absolutely one horny girl, little mouse. Dropping by and immediately asking me to start pillow talking you—”

She doesn’t even hear him, bouncing on the balls of her boots, squeaking a floorboard that is always loose no matter how much the Couffaines try to glue or hammer it down. She’s certain she’s watched them rip out just to put back a new floorboard— and yet it still continues to squeak. “That’s not true! That’s totally not true I’m— you know— I’m just—”

“Yes?”

“It’s just that your voice is melodical— it’s so soothing and you know I have anxiety and things but being able to hear your voice always makes me calm down— it’s so nice to just— just relax— and let someone else think of things for me—”

“Breathe, Mousey.”

“Thank you.” She gasps in air, proving his point for him.

His eyes shine with something as she sucks in her breaths. “How long have you been waiting for me to pull you inside and take care of you?”

She whines, crossing her arms. “You’re being totally unfair right now, Luka, you can’t just start talking dirty to me—”

He laughs, pulling open the door to his room. “I’m not talking dirty to you, not yet.”

“And just assume that I’ll listen—”

He pauses again to look at her, and it’s enough to make her bite her lip by how absolutely jaw-dropping he looks. “Oh, you won’t? And here I thought that’s what you wanted. Is that not what you wanted?”

“What do you—”

His eyelashes are black smudges against his cheeks as his gaze drops to her lips when he brushes her jaw with the back of his hand. “Do you not want me to take care of you in the way you want? Do you not want me to tell you all of the filthiest things you want to hear?”

“Gooseberries you have no idea how much I’ll listen if you do because I will— I promise you I will— I mean I’ll do anything as long as you keep talking— I promise— I’ll be good for you, I promise—” She almost smacks her forehead in an attempt to stop squeaking out her words, instead choosing to nearly rub her cheeks raw with her gloves.

Gentle and giant hands reach for her wrists with such slowness it almost boarders asinine. “Hey. Don’t hurt yourself— that looks like it hurts.”

She drops her hands from her face without question, letting him pet and smooth away the redness from her skin. “But— I— come on, I have to focus first! At least let me try to say what I came here to say, don’t just immediately flip the script back on me!”

He turns to walk into his room, leaving her standing there, looking around and wondering if that was an invitation to start talking. He’s cleaned his room a bit— there’s no laundry on the floor this time— but his room still continues to look like a snake’s den from how cluttered it is.

He sits down comfortably in that pouf chair of his, the one she’s always wondered how it fit through the front door. Maybe they floated it in through the window, she’s not sure. It’s massive— huge— full of stuffing and fun to sit on whenever she’s here for a party and is starting to feel drunk, or here to goof off in his presence whenever it’s just the two of them and she has nothing better to do. It’s close enough to Luka’s bed that it feels like a challenge, for her, and she always feels victorious whenever she manages to convince herself to sit there.

“How long have you known, Mull?”

“K-known what?” She freezes at the doorframe, finally realizing what’s happened when he simply spins the leather strap of his miraculous on his wrist, looking at her with raised brows. “Uhm.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh oh. Oh no. Oh no. How did you—”

“I don’t think you make it a habit of begging any man you come across, unless you know who they are already.”

“I— yes— only you, Luka. I’ve only begged for you.” She nods very slowly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” Some form of a thought twinkles in his eyes as he says it. “Not yet, at least. Don’t freak out, it’s okay that you know. I kind of figured you knew. It’s okay.”

“Y-you did?”

“Of course.”

“But—” She gestures around. “How?”

He tilts his head, looking at her with such a curious face. “Intuition, I guess. Or maybe paranoia. Hey, have you known for longer than a year?”

“Ah—” She shifts on her feet. “No. Sort of. I kinda was guessing it, but— I mean— I got genuine confirmation about a month ago.”

“Have you been showing up because you knew?”

“No, no. I didn’t know when I first started showing up— I’ve been showing up because I really like you— you as in Luka, that is. And then I found Sass playing hide and seek with Mullo when I went to the bathroom, and, well I totally didn’t know what to do when I found out that you were actually in fact my partner— and then I couldn’t stop thinking about you and by then I— I had already— fallen in— uhm— with you on both sides—”

This takes him by surprise. “You’ve been here detransformed?”

She pinches her eyes shut. “Uhm—”

“We know each other, don’t we?” He exhales. “That— I mean— that does make sense. You are always so conveniently close by whenever there’s an Akuma that attacks the Liberty— and only god fucking knows why it’s always the Liberty. You’d think my mom would learn after a while to stop picking fights with the cops. Or the government in general. This place is a breeding ground for Akumas— Hawkmoth is one day just going to set up camp around here, I think.”

He taps at his jaw as he thinks. No doubt he’s trying to place her as one of his friends— or maybe his sister’s.

“It’s a good thing Couffaines know how to party, right?” She eeps into the silence, trying not to bolt for the door. Would he try following her? Would he grab her and pin her down so she can’t try to give up from how embarrassed she is? Would he let her go? She’d be far too easy to catch, if he did go after her— she’s weak at the knees at the idea of being in his arms again. “I mean— It’s always so much fun being here but I understand if you don’t want me to— to show up— anymore— and—”

“Little mouse, I hope you know I’m not mad. I can’t be mad at you.” Those six little words makes her legs weak by how thankful she is. She could weep— already starting to feel how her eyes water at the words. “I’d never be mad at you for knowing. I just— I wish I knew sooner, too.”

“I didn’t know what to do—” She hunches her shoulders, trying her absolute best not to curl in on herself but not having too much of a say in it as her body goes through the motions on its own. “I couldn’t just stop showing up, cause then you’d suspect it—”

“It would’ve been okay if you had told me, just like there’s nothing wrong with you telling me now.” He extends out his arm, asking for her hand.

She hides her face in her gloves. “I’m sorry. I really, really am sorry, Luka— I really f-fucked up.”

“No you didn’t.”

Those words fill her stomach with butterflies, stopping her from forming any more tears. “I— I didn’t?”

“Of course not, Mull. It’s okay.”

“But I—”

“It’s alright— I know why you didn’t tell me— it’s okay. I’m not upset at you— I’m not disappointed.” He gives her a smile. “Come here. You look like you’re about to cry— I don’t want you to cry.”

She crosses into his room, making sure to step over the scattered amps and repeaters— his guitar case, too— willingly reaching for his hand by giving him four of her fingers. His smile widens when she makes contact with his hands— his fingernails nearly as black as her suit.

His thumb rubs against the hexleather that wraps around her knuckles, and she tries her best not to sound so needy when she drops to her knees so they can be at a better height with each other. She doesn’t like it when she’s taller, so she fits between the opening of his legs just enough so she can place her forearm on his thighs, looking up at him with what she hopes is a thankful smile, even as her eyesight wavers.

“Congratulations on saying your first curse word,” He pets underneath her eyes with a laugh. She can’t feel it, because of the domino mask, but it’s comforting enough to her that her eyes squint at the sensation. “I never thought I’d be the one to hear it first.”

“I’ve cursed before,” Her smile twitches as she tries not to giggle despite the tears that collect at the sides of her eyes. “I just don’t make it a habit.”

“Oh yeah? What other curse words have you said?”

“I think I’ve said ‘ass’ before.” She has to think about it, much to his amusement. “Well. If I hadn’t before, I guess I have now.”

His laughter consumes him. “What a milestone.”

“You’ve been many of my firsts,” She smiles with him. “Maybe hopefully all of them can be with you, too?”

His face blossoms in color— she’s never seen him caught so off guard before. Maybe he isn’t as cool and collected as she’s always thought— maybe he does actually get satisfaction when she says what’s on her mind about how she’s wanting to have everything with him. “God, who are you, Mull? Who’s the girl of my dreams who keeps telling me she wants everything I can give her? Is it even a good idea to tell me?”

“You can know,” She nods, shivering as he brushes her jawline with his black nails and back of his palm. She likes these gentle touches— she likes the way it feels to have such a loving hand on her. “It’s only fair.”

“Hmmm, no. I want you to tell me if you want to tell me.” His eyes narrow at her. “Don’t tell me just to even the playing field. If you want to remain anonymous, I don’t mind.”

It always worries her at how plain kind and loyal he is. He would be completely right if he decided to kick her out— or to turn her away— but instead of any anger or resentment he’s simply there.

He’s always there for her— always making sure that she’s okay. If she’s eaten. If she’s going to get home safely, when the Akuma attacks are at night. It’s hard not to fall in love with a man who cares about her in the way he does. He’s always been a nurturing man— he’s never hard on her, even when he has the right to be.

Well. He’s only hard on her when they’re stuck in a closet together.

“You don’t?”

“Okay, maybe that’s a bit of a lie,” Luka smiles as he looks down at her. His sweatpants are soft against her cheek as she continues to blink slowly up at him, trying not to purse her lips in want. “I’m very curious about who you are, Mousey. I’ve always wondered who’s the girl underneath— I’ve known you since we were fifteen. Of course I want to know more about the girl who takes up so much of my notebooks.”

“I don’t mind you knowing.” She eeps.

“You don’t?”

“No— not at all! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, really, Luka. Our friends kept telling me to try asking you out— god, Jules especially, but I— I really couldn’t do any of it, I kept chickening out.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“And then I found out that it’s so much easier to talk to you when I’m in the suit— so I— I kept trying to get the courage to ask you out in the suit and then I found out that you’re Viperion and I just didn’t know how to handle it— so I just— and then the closet— and I made up my mind to tell you— you— today about my feelings. Pretty sure your sister was going to fillet me alive if I texted her saying I couldn’t do it. ”

Something clicks in his head, she can see it. “Marinette.”

“Well, yeah, I mean I could’ve tried as myself but I mean I don’t have any faith in myself at all—” She almost bites her tongue. “What?”

“Marinette?” He tilts his head. “The only person I know that could be your height— could be your size— and a girl I’ve barely been able to get a couple of sentences out of.”

“Hi.” Multimouse says, trying to swallow, but somehow not being able to. “Yes. That’s me?”

“Hi,” His smile softens. “That makes sense, you know. Juleka even thought that the hickey on my neck was from you when she saw it, and I didn’t understand why.”

How mortifying. “S-she did?”

“Oh. Oh. That’s why you ended up in my bed that one night, isn’t it? Because you like me and you were too drunk to stop wanting to cuddle?”

She worries her lip between her teeth. His gaze drops to watch her chew her bottom lip almost raw. “Oh. Yes— that’s— uhm. Please don’t hate me— I’m sorry— your bed has always looked so comfortable— and I really wanted to sleep next to you—”

“Take a breath, Mari.” His eyes glitter when she sucks in a breath on command. She would feel embarrassed by how easy it is for her to comply, but all she feels is warmth that starts to coil in between her legs whenever he tells her to do something. “It’s okay. I’m so happy it’s you.”

“You are? You don’t hate me?”

“Absolutely don’t hate you. I’d never be able to hate you— how could I hate you?”

“No?”

“Never.”

“Not even if I got us stuck in a closet together for an hour—”

“Definitely not then, either.” He grins. “Fuck, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that. About you.”

“M-me neither,” She confesses easily, trying not to shift too much between his legs. “I— I’ve been wanting— uhm—”

“Ah, yes. That. You can say it, can’t you?” He leans forward so that she has to lean back in order to not get her face shoved into his chest from the angle. “Can you say it for me? I want to hear you say it, if you’re willing.”

She cranes her neck up to look at him square in the eyes, still sitting on her folded knees and calves, looking at the way his mouth quirks to the side as he licks his teeth. His necklaces dangle— jingle like dog tags between them— hitting her lightly on the collarbone but with just enough pressure to make her make a noise that sounds like an unf. “I— uhm— I’ve been wanting more. Ever since we did it in the closet.”

He almost looks surprised at her admission. “Good job, Mull.”

She feels a little brave. “I want to— if you’re willing— spend the night with you. Please.”

He groans. “Of course I want to spend the night with you. Every night. Keep you here in my room for weeks— you don’t have to ask if I’m willing— but it’s nice to hear it. It always reminds me at how good of a person you are.”

Warmth explodes on her cheeks as she blushes. “I’ve— I’m— I have to ask.”

“I know.”

“I know that I’m the one that is always so shy and timid— but— you deserve to have your boundaries respected too, Luka.”

“I think I like this better than when you call me Vai,” He laughs. He kisses her on the cheek— below the eyelids— where the lip of her domino mask meets skin— missing her mouth entirely even as she turns to try to meet him. She tries not to whine as she grips the fabric that bunches at his knees. “Not that the nickname isn’t good— it’s perfect— but you don’t understand just how many times I jack off while thinking about you calling me by my real name, Mousinette.”

She squeaks at the nickname, trying not to blossom into a full-body red. “I— how many times?”

“Every night,” He says simply, like he’s relaying the weather. He has no idea how his words burn in her core— why her tail becomes so agitated, even if it’s only half sentient— why exactly she gasps as she feels a sharp zing that settles between her legs. “I’m so glad that Marinette ended up being the little mouse I think about every night.”

“Every—?”

“Imagine my surprise, getting out of a shower after thinking about nothing but you and all the noises you made in my ear and seeing you stand there in front of my door.” He grins against her skin. Will he bite her? Snatch her and keep her? Use her as nothing but a bed warmer? “Fuck, Mousey. If I hadn’t been debating on whether or not you knew I would’ve dragged you into my room and onto my bed without even saying hello.”

“Please. Please.” She swallows, the idea of never leaving his burrow almost making her want to pounce on him. “I want that.”

“It’s getting harder and harder to stop thinking about you when you’re gone.”

“W-why?”

“You don’t think I can forget about you after that wonderful performance you gave me, do you?” Even when not transformed, and he doesn’t have any fangs, his teeth graze along her skin in a way that makes her toes twitch in her boots. She shivers as he follows her neck up to the patch of skin behind the ear, nosing into the sensitive area to the point where she pants. “I’ll be honest, I came home that night wanting more.”

“I— I can— give you more,” She tilts her head to the side, letting him kiss and suck bruises into her skin. She bruises like a peach, usually, and for the second time in her life she’s so thankful for how pale her skin is. “S-so much more.”

“Can you?”

“Please— I can give you anything you’d like, just tell me what to do and I’ll do it—”

“Within reason, of course.”

“Within reason,” She parrots, but more out of politeness than anything else. It’s only fair for her to agree— she obviously doesn’t want to be uncomfortable throughout any of this— but her list of potential no’s is definitely dwindling as the nights go on and she is subjected to fantasy after fantasy of what she wants him to do with her. To her. The preposition isn’t important anymore. She wants it all. “But I’d do anything for you, Luka. I— I may not have done much— any— at all before, but I want to. I trust you not to do anything damaging, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

“No— of course not. I wouldn’t dream of putting you through pain.”

Something cold whooshes in her stomach. “N-no?”

“I’m not a brute, you know— you deserve something gentle— I want to be gentle with you— I’m still worried you’re afraid of me. Besides, I don’t like the idea of hurting you in general, it wouldn’t feel right.”

“No? Not… even a little tiny smidge? Maybe?” She squeaks out that last part, feeling self conscious about the way he pauses. There’s a question forming, she can tell by the way his brows pinch together— she bites her lip to stop herself from making a noise.

His gaze drops to her lips, and instead of responding to what she’s proposed, he whispers out: “Don’t hurt yourself, Mousey.”

He kisses her. Hard— almost painful, ironically— with the way he clicks their teeth together as she whines. He slides his hand to keep it at the back of her neck, kissing her in the same way they had in the closet. There’s a pull at her wrist, and an arm snaking underneath her shoulder, and she finds herself being deposited onto his lap.

Oh, she’s missed this.

Sweet gooseberries. She can already feel how stiff he’s starting to get in these criminally low sweatpants of his— and she hasn’t even done anything besides kiss him a bit and just tell him how she really feels. The man underneath her is honest, and never would be able to lie to her about his feelings— he really is enjoying this.

She wants him to enjoy everything.

Everything.

“What kind of hurt are you into, Mousinette?” He hums. His voice feels like pure ecstasy in her veins as he rumbles out his words, and she nearly loses feeling in the very same legs that prop her up when gives her a swat on her ass, causing her to gasp. The impact is lessened by the properties of her hexleather— but it’s enough to make her face flush and lashes flutter. “Oh. Oh. So you mean that kind?”

“Luka—”

“You’ve never done anything and yet you already know that you like getting spanked. Incredible, little mouse— do you practice on yourself with the things you like?”

She nods. “I’ve only been able to— to try out things on myself, but, yes— I know a lot about what I like— and— and don’t, by trial and— error—”

“Fuck that’s hot. Just how far do your fantasies go, I wonder?” He laughs. “Tell me, please. I want to know all of it— you know, I never got to hear what you think about when you’re fingering yourself— even though you promised.”

“I did. You’re right— I really did. But maybe later, we have other things to do—” She tries kissing him again, but he tilts his head enough so that she ends up kissing the corner of his mouth, and she whines. “Luka, please— I want—”

“I can’t do what you want if you don’t tell me what it is,” He mouths against her jaw. “Please tell me. What was the last idea you fingered yourself to?”

“I thought about how I want you to pin me down—” Her breath hitches when he follows the curve of her spine with his fingers. “I thought about how I want— I need— you to bend me over— and— and take off my clothes— I can be totally naked for you and you can wear every single piece of clothing on you, I promise it’s okay— let me be yours, Luka—”

He hisses. “Shit, Mousey. Where do you want me to fuck you?”

“On your bed— your kitchen table—” She scrambles to come up with answers as he continues to move his fingers up and down her back, petting her so gently it almost feels like a tease. “Outside, too, o-on the— on the deck—”

“Oh, you liked the outside idea, didn’t you?”

“Yes— yes—”

“What do you want me to do to you?” At her whining and begging, he smiles at her with such gentility she feels like she’s melting. “Please. Please tell me.”

She whooshes air out of her lungs. “I want you to finger me like you said you would— finger me until I come three times.”

“Four, Mousey.” He amends. “I won’t be satisfied until you’re gushing all over my fingers. I’ll make a fucking mess out of you.”

“F-four.” She parrots, feeling her eyesight go hazy at the idea. She hears her tail hit something— probably the side of his bed— but she can’t focus enough to pay attention to it. “Eat— eat me out, too. Please. Uhm. M-maybe finger me and— and maybe suck my— my clit at the same time.”

She has to pause so that he can kiss her, coaxing her tongue into his mouth. He sucks on her tongue like he’s trying to prove something to her— she’s not sure what— but regardless of whatever it is, it’s enough for her to whine and pant, gripping his wet strands of hair between her fingers to stop herself from rubbing herself all over his chest and abs.

“You’d do this all outside on the deck of the Liberty?” He hums when he breaks away, licking the bridge of saliva that formed between their mouths.

“More than just that, but, yes—”

He gives a noise of approval that makes her wetter. “What do you think Paris would say if they ever caught a glance of Viperion breeding Multimouse on rooftops across the city, or finding out that you beg for it and don’t stop begging until you’re satisfied? Do you think they would be upset with you because you weren’t behaving like the proper princess everyone thinks you are?”

She wants it. She wants it so badly. The idea is so tantalizing that she can feel that low buzz of an incoming dry-orgasm, never even touched— never even fingered. Oh, how this man is everything she’s ever wanted. Just being able to sit in his lap is enough to get her to want to stain her suit.

“I don’t care,” She breathes, and she really does shift, then, her knees not being able to handle holding her up in any way any longer. She sits on his thighs, her legs spread wide so that they can go over his— everything about him is massive and so much bigger than her. “Anywhere— anywhere you decide on taking me, Luka— I want to do it anywhere you want to, I don’t care if people find out that I’m not their sweetheart— that I’m not their sweet little angel saving the city—”

“Oh, you’re all of that for sure— you just happen to be one horny little mouse, too.” He laughs against her mouth when she moans and grinds her sex against one of his thighs like she knows how to do. Sparks of color bleed against the back of her lids as she chases the orgasm that continues to build and build and build.

He shifts his leg, giving her a better angle. There’s a gasp trying to spill out of her mouth— heat curling between her legs as she continues to rub herself almost painfully hard on the thick muscle that makes up his thigh— trying not to exhaust herself as she rubs and rubs and rubs and— “Luka? Please?”

“Are you asking me permission to come?” He says it like he doesn’t believe her, looking at her with almost an awed look to his face.

“Please,” She repeats, nodding her head hard enough for it to hurt.

“Alright,” He whispers. “You can do it. Come for me without me even touching you— go on.”

She does.

He tightens his grip on her waist and the curve of her spine as she places her forehead down on his shoulder, riding wave after wave of heat that washes over her. Her legs feel like liquid— the space between her thighs even more so. She’s completely and totally doused in a fever that almost makes it claustrophobic to stay in her suit.

“That’s it,” He kisses her ear— her temple— whatever’s closest to him on the side of her face. “Good job, Mousinette. Very good job. You did so well—”

“Luka—” She sighs, trying not to accidentally crush the charms on his necklaces with her fist as she grips them with a hand, trying to get her strength back. “Luka, I want more.”

There’s a bit of an edge to his voice, “Oh, do you? Are you unsatisfied?”

“No— not unsatisfied— I want more. I just want you.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” He laughs. His voice feels like satin on her sensitive skin. “Not that watching you wasn’t good— I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sit in this chair ever again without thinking of you fucking my leg. That was fucking hot, Mousey.”

“Sorry—” She doesn’t really mean it, feeling like she’s on the edge of her seat, even as her body continues to slow down and fill her with good emotions, making her feel as viscous as honey as she curls in his lap. “I’m so sorry— I just— I need— more— Luka— one isn’t enough— I need you—”

“Detransform for me so we can do exactly that, Mousey.” His eyes look dark, pupils blown wide open as he smiles. “Let me fuck you.”

She’s never nodded harder in her life. She calls off her transformation, the necklace that rests on her chest glowing before unleashing her kwami. Mullo blinks wide at the sight of the two of them in an obviously precarious position— the little mouse kwami grinning wide as the suit is done unstitching from Marinette’s body, leaving her in her clothes she wore before leaving her house, her hair falling against her ears and down her back. “You confessed? You confessed! You actually did it!”

“Lolo—” She mumbles into Luka’s collarbone, trying to hide her blushing cheeks. “Come on. Don’t embarrass me.”

“Oh— but— I’m so happy, Princess! I can’t believe you did it! You spent so long freaking out in your room I thought I was going to have to force a transformation on you!”

“Lolo!”

“Hi, Mullo. Sass is upstairs, I think, probably near the sails.” Luka grins, cutting Marinette off with a hand to her mouth before she can continue responding. She squeaks behind his hand— how the rings on his hands feel cold against her skin. “No doubt trying to cover his ears from the noise.”

“A sensitive one to sound, isn’t he?” Mullo winks, giggling behind her paws. “Well, well, you know what to call out if you need us! Try not to be too loud for Sass’s sake, okay?”

Luka makes her lean back from his lap when Mullo disappears through the ceiling. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She whispers back, muffled by the hand that covers her giggles.

“So. You really are the girl of my dreams and fantasies, huh?” There’s a tilt to his head as he says it, looking her over appreciatively. “Give me a second to look at you— I can’t believe I missed all the obvious signs of you being the girl I love.”

Something flatlines in her head. “D-dreams?”

“And fantasies,” He adds, shifting her in his lap with a laugh. “Come on, little mouse. You already know that. You can definitely feel it, too. I’m not lying when I said all I can think about is fucking you.”

“I— I know. I did just spend— I totally just grinded on you until I came, but I mean— it’s— it’s a little harder to believe— when I’m not—” She’s blushing, finally able to feel just how exactly stiff he is in his pants— she cuts herself off with a needy whine. “Oh, gooseberries, I’m sorry, Luka— you know I stutter a lot when I’m very shy.”

He kisses his palm over where her mouth is. “It’s okay. You’re doing okay— great, actually. There’s nothing to be shy or afraid of, Mousinette, even if you’re willingly walking into a snake’s den while being this cute.”

She giggles.

“You really do need to get out of your boat more often, Luka,” She pouts behind his hand. “You’re going to spend so much time on this boat that you’re going to end up landsick if you ever get off of it.”

His eyes drop to her shirt, a teasing look on his face. “Well, if that was your goal for tonight, I’m sorry— I have other plans involving you. You smell so good— are you wearing the perfume that I said I liked on you?”

“I might be.” An impulse buy for sure at the makeup store, but worth every single cent with the way he looks at her now. Ever since she’d worn it that first time and Luka had complimented it in passing when hauling a subwoofer the size of Rose’s full height outside to the deck of the Liberty, she’d known that she’d wear it every day of her life if it meant to get him to look at her for even a smidge longer. “You remembered that?”

“Of course I did. You always smell expensive when you have it on— you went stiff as a board the first time I complimented you. I thought I broke you, and I didn’t get why Jules just kept laughing when you ran off to go help Kagami with the banner— I understand why now.” He laughs. “So, what are you wearing, then? If you went through the hassle of smelling good…”

It’s a shame he can’t see the smile she gives him, a shy and teasing quirk of her lips. “Just my pajamas.”

“Uh huh. I don’t believe you, you’ve got something up your sleeve, I know that look in your eye. Show me what you’re wearing,” He doesn’t pull his hand away from her mouth, and quirks his lips to produce yet another boyish smile when she kisses his palm. “It doesn’t look like you’re wearing anything under that shirt, little mouse.”

“I have something under it,” She mumbles under his palm, but it doesn’t come across well enough.

He takes in the wide shoulders of her shirt— how she’s absolutely swimming in the sleeves that end up at her elbows. She can tell the moment he recognizes the band shirt’s logo on her shirt— a fun and edgy screen-printed design with neon blues and neon pinks with the word kitty section below a logo— because his breath stops.

“Oh, shit—” He uses his free hand to hold her at the rib cage, pressing his thumb inwards, presumably trying to find the band of her bra that she’s potentially wearing— he almost seems to relax when his fingertips finds the wire. “Marinette, I like this.”

She preens under his words, sitting in his lap at a better angle to let him continue petting her heavily under her bust, thumbing at the wire under her breasts. “Oh. Do you really?”

“Fuck— I can’t believe this— this is such a turn-on. As if I needed to get any harder. Whose shirt is this?”

“I don’t know,” She tries to stay still in his lap to no avail when he moves his palm so that he can pet at her lips with a thumb. She melts in his touch, how each touch feels like heaven and soft. “It was one of the leftovers of the first batch we made, I’m pretty sure. I’ve kept it for years.”

“Really?”

“I like sleeping with it,” She tilts her head to the side, letting her hair fall behind her shoulder. The shirt is soft— comfortable— it’s gotten a very lived-in feel to the fabric after the long years of gentle care. She hand washes it to make sure that none of the colors chip away. “Makes me feel comfortable, thinking I’m with you. I— uhm— I—”

“Don’t hesitate, little mouse,” He smiles easy. “You’ve been doing so well already.”

“E-ever since I found it, I’ve been pretending it’s yours,” She tries not to steam red at her confession. She’s grinded on him in a closet, grinded on his leg mere minutes ago, begged for him to fuck her— and yet she still feels embarassed to admit this, too?

Well, to be fair, it is his band’s shirt. After all, what kind of a— best friend? Lover? Budding-relationship partner?— is she, if she doesn’t support his band with all their friends? Even if she didn’t have any romantic or sexual feelings for the man who continues to blink wide at the sight of her in the shirt, she’d still keep the merchandise for sentimental values. It’s one of the few originals— a homemade shirt that they had bought in a batch so that they could at least have merch to sell.

Every time they leave for a tour, now that they’re much better in terms of fame, she keeps it close to her. She nuzzles into the fabric, dreaming that it’s actually him in her arms and him in her cunt as she masturbates to the thought of him, wishing she was in his hotel room across the hall instead of hers.

His face turns pink. “Have you?”

She blinks at the way he seems to turn pinker and pinker the more he continues to look at her. Is that— is he blushing from the idea of her wearing his clothes? “Uhm— I— I mean I obviously don’t have any of your shirts for real, but, it’s nice to pretend—”

“You now have free reign of my closet whenever and wherever.” He almost twitches underneath her. “Please wear my actual shirts anytime you want, little mouse, holy shit. Fuck. Fuck. I’ll start begging if you need convincing— god.”

“Y-you don’t need to do that.” She laughs.

His smile curls dark. “You’re right. Your begging is much prettier than mine.”

She nearly jumps when his hand at the top of her shirt smoothes down her spine, teasing the hem of the shirt, making her shiver from how gentle he is. “I’ll wear whatever you want me to wear.”

“What’s underneath?” He asks, his eyes glittering with a tease that she can read he’ll come back to her request later. “Do you want to show me?”

She nods, giving his thumb a kiss. “Maybe just a peek. I h-have something I want to do, too— i-if you’re interested?”

AO3 | Start Here | Chapter One Link | You Are Here! | Chapter Three Link

#lukanette #fragileizyfic #fragileizyoneshot #vipermouse

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vaguely-concerned · 3 years

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The Mandalorian Chapter 14 reactions: HOLY SHIT THAT WAS AWESOME BUT ALSO I’M CRYING edition

- the good good din characterization is back after all the weirdness last episode!!!! that soft way he says ‘no, no, I’m not mad at you’? THAT’S din djarin, he would not be fucking impatient with his son having just been informed and seen for himself that he is terrified, go away mr filoni I know you’ve got all of canon memorized but you don’t get this lol. this feels much more right in how din being conflicted and still thinking he should give the baby away for his own good plays out too

honestly every line of dialogue for him in this one was perfect I was just whispering ‘I love this awkward clueless wonderful man just doing his best’ to myself any time he said anything. “...does this look Jedi to you?” sir I adore you more than words can describe

- we got din chuckling. asjdklfhsdkafghsdafsadhjkfsdahjkfh. fskahfksjad. side note: I can’t believe my joke post about din desperately trying to Force home school the kid with the one (1) jedi trick he knows about and the baby being delighted by it over and over anyway -- listen to his expectant excited laugh when din takes the ball and sets up the game!!!! -- was canon all along. and then the baby & mando music kicking in when he gently put the silver ball into the baby’s hands again and tells him he’s special (because he IS special. to din)? hmng. hmmmmnnnnn

they opened on the height of softness so we would all crumple under the weight of the rest of the episode and that was very mean of them in a way I sincerely appreciate

- nothing to see here... just a dad trying to walk through the literal manifestation of the unassailable underlying forces of the universe to get to his baby again and again........ the desperation in that, the love, the foolhardy devotion................... shit

- okay so I might be a dumbass, but I’d never noticed this before -- the silver ball has a blue spot on the top, like so:

and in addition we get the room where the baby goes full darth grogu (I have to laugh so I don’t cry okay) on those storm troopers, and there’s a red light in there dominating the room (and it did even more in the concept art):

in star wars blue means light side and red means dark side (it’s very sophisticated that way), meaning the visual storytelling here is that there’s a battle for the baby’s soul and gideon and all his nonsense (and the trauma bb’s been through in the wider sense) is pulling towards the dark, while grogu and din’s connection leads him towards the light. just... the image of the baby looking at his own reflection in the symbolic representation of his relationship to din? the way children find their sense of self through being safely reflected and held by their caretakers? god help meeeeeee I will go in there and fistfight gideon myself for disrupting that in any way

the smaller light seems to be blue too, like there’s still the presence of light even if it’s dimmed and small in that shitty horrible room, which is a change from the concept art!

- FENNEC SHAND SURVIVED BITCHES!!! I even called that she’d be back with new shiny robot parts back in season 1, could not happen to a cooler lady, I hope we get more backstory and interaction from her the next episodes -- sounds like she’s basically sworn herself to boba’s service in gratitude for saving her life, I wonder if that’s a cultural thing of whereever she comes from? does she live aboard slave 1 now too?? because that would be hilarious and amazing, it must be like two strange cats trying to get used to sharing the same space

- everything I could ever hope for about boba fett in this series came true, they went down the much more interesting and nuanced route with jango and boba’s identities as mandalorians, he looked cool as fuck and made din as a character shine rather than overshadowing him... amazing beautiful yesss

(I did 100% not anticipate just how ‘cool uncle boba here to help you fuck shit up’ he was going to be but I am delighted to get it anyway. uncle points deducted for getting someone to point a gun at the baby, but the main point still stands lol)

the power and brutality of his hand to hand fighting too... a w e s o m e , I enjoyed the action scenes a lot in this one

- they even recanonized him actually wearing jango’s armour. what more could I ask for. I’ve had confused parent & child feels about these two since I was like eleven and here we fucking go again. and jango fighting in the mando civil wars too!

- so I’m grieving the razor crest (and I always will be, rip you magnificent jalopy, always in my heart) but also there’s the grim satisfaction that my reading on it was sort of true -- it is (...was. oh god it’s going to take a while to sink in huh) a symbol of din’s self and life, and at this point when they take the baby it tears everything else to pieces. the only thing that’s left in the ashes is the beskar and the thing that connects him to the baby. and there’s... a strange solace in seeing that that’s all he needs to keep going? he’s fucking obliterated from orbit but he still has his love for the baby and the beskar and that can keep him going until he finds something new, everything else can be replaced?????? weirdly healing, though he is probably going to have a solid breakdown at some point after they get the kid back (shut up they are getting the kid back) and the cold distant fog lifts

also this scene/shot feels like it carries some Meaning, doesn’t it? I’m on record several times saying I never want din to be mand’alor and that’s still true, but there’s something about the framing of this and the way boba looks at him that’s like... hm. I’m not sure I have the words for it. there’s something heightened about it, anyway, for a moment he looks like something mythic there in the wreckage

(something I would be much cooler with is our clan of two growing a little bit and those new people rallying behind him, actually, that might be neat. imagine if a force user does show up for the baby and gets adopted into the clan somehow??? so many possibilities.)

- from the way he picks up the silver ball... din djarin is on his way to straight up murder some people huh

I think part of what reassures me about this scene is the music -- this mando flute is not distant, is not beaten, is not despondent, it’s clear and determined and strong.

I love this. I love when we get explicit baby POVs, it makes it feel so real and intimate and... like home. (I especially loved baby’s point of view inside the razor crest, which just made me tear up again. baby lost the closest thing he’s had to a home in a long long time on top of it all. everything is suffering)

Emotionally Significant Thumb Grabbing tm; the show

- din djarin looking for the ‘on’ switch on a magic rock fhsdakjfhsadlfhsdjah I can’t breathe

“Well, this is the seeing stone. Are you. Seeing anything?” fsafkdsajhfsa sdhfksjalhfkjsdahfkjsdhf

- the energy around the baby as he’s, in ahsoka’s words, ‘choosing his path’ is blue, and the force sort of works across time and space, right?? so there’s definitely still hope for our lil green bean to not have to come up with a really dumb unsubtle sith name for himself, as is regrettably yet delightfully tradition. darth babbu should never come to pass (I do like how they’re interrogating the normal dark/light side dichotomy in this series, seeing as this is a literal baby who can’t really be responsible for that stuff himself yet and has such capacity for both.)

- listen. listen, the way din says ‘can you please hurry up’ with no sarcasm or real impatience whatsoever, more like a harried worry, to his force-meditating son as he jogs off to make sure no one’s trying to kill them. is hilarious and also YES this is what the character is!!! weirdly and incongruously polite under stress sometimes and with a slightly odd reaction pattern to things!!! he’s not just quiet and badass, he’s a little strange sometimes and it’s so good!

- a friendly opening volley warning shot from boba there

also din uncertainly asking BOBA FETT if he’s a jedi... now this is the dramatic irony I’ve been looking for haha

I guess neither shand nor boba actually know din’s name after this either. baby you gotta start introducing yourself at some point it gets real confusing when there are two mandos on screen

oh the long weary sigh going through din’s frame when boba says he wants ‘the armour’ and he thinks it’s just someone trying to peel the beskar off his corpse again. sorry the galaxy’s so shitty dad

- “But fate sometimes steps in to rescue the wretched” is a killer line well done mr favreau. I like that boba actually offers din a good deal as well and seems to intend to deliver on it from how things are going.

- din using his beskar-covered bod to cover someone he’s fighting alongside!!! literal moving cover haha. also I love fennec’s costume design

- I don’t know where din got more whistling birds from and I don’t care, it was really cool haha

wow haha um so anyway --

(cue all the ‘who wore it better’ with cobb vanth’s ‘spiderman’s first home made costume’ look on one side and ABSOLUTE UNIT DADDY boba fett on the other side posts lol)

- aaaghh the music almost like a stunned desperate fluttering heart beat as din watches the razor crest be destroyed

- for someone who has willingly worked for them in the past boba sure sounds less than thrilled about having the empire back in any capacity

- oof the deadness in din’s voice when he says “The child is gone”. ooooh no that got me h e l p

- guessing next episode is at least partly a ‘gathering old allies and preparing the assault’ step before the grand finale, then! they cannot go for the season ender cliffhanger with this, I will fucking riot. anything can be up in the air except baby and dad being separated, I will not allow it

it would be very funny if the force user baby called out to comes stumbling into the middle of all this like the troy entering the room with pizzas meme too

- the music in the darth grogu scene is partially a dark mirror of the baby & mando music :’( is nothing in this world sacred

also from how he reaches out for it baby might have used a light saber before in the past with the jedi? ngl the idea of baby wielding the dark saber not when he’s all grown up but in like two episodes -- with all the chaos a toddler holding a laser sword would involve -- is all that is keeping me sane here

‘liable to put an eye out with one of these’ well gideon you sure have doomed someone to lose an eye with that one, here’s to hoping it’s you, for full dramatic payoff

he is a deliciously smug awful force with great musical cues tho, you have to give it to him

- okay so this

is obviously awful and horrible and it makes me so sad... but it is undeniably also very very very funny in how it’s framed. you know what? after all this bullshit baby grogu can have a little dark side tantrum, as a treat, we’ve all been there right

(forget finding a jedi, we need to go out there and find a child psychologist who can help him deal with this without adding the fear that he’s on the path to become a two foot tall evil space sorcerer to the mix Y_________Y)

- rip the razor crest except for the second time :’’’( gone but never forgotten

- the last thing din tells the baby is “I’m gonna protect you; I’ll be back soon”. and I hope that stays with the kid somehow and that it actually comes true, that din will be back for him as soon as humanly possible and all this pain and fear can be repaired. ggggghhhhh my emotions are too big for my dumb human body

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta #okay I'm gonna have to. go take a calming walk or something after this haha

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miioouu · 4 years

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Demon! Bakugou x Human Reader? 👀

Wooooo I left this for 666 followers because, well I want to! Sorry if you didn't want smut, you can send me another request when I open my requests! Thank you for requesting! ❤️💜❤️ And thank you so so much for 666 followers you guys🥺🥺

Warning: smut, oral sex, fingering, anal, somnophilia.... Also very long post sry 😔

People looked at you like you were crazy. Who in their right mind would buy such house? Old and dark, window screaming in breezy nights, wood cracking for no reason. People claimed it to be haunted, advising you to run away, never step a foot inside the house. But who were they to tell you what to do? You didn't see an unholy house in front of you, nor a roof for demons or ghosts or whatever mythical creature they believed in. No you saw a beautiful house, one that has potential to turn into the best looking home in the neighborhood. And at the price it was offered, you hit the jackpot. Big and dark, you're soon to transform it.

Turning the key as you stepped in, dust filling your lungs, coughing and shaking your hand to get rid of it. You had a lot to work on, and first you had to get it all cleaned up before starting any renovation. Everywhere you looked there were pictures reminding you of old witchcraft. Devil horns, crosses, and crystals. But what stood up was a particular painting, young, and powerful, eyes seeming to follow your every movement, and if you looked straight into them, your chest starts to heave, breathing becomes hard, sweat running down your face as your hands shake while you're taking the frames of the walls. You didn't need a dead man to decorate your house.

Days passed and you're still cleaning up that damned house. Nights spent there seemed colder, making you shiver even under the layers upon layers of covers. Crickets seem louder here and the air seems to flow with more force. Though you blamed it on the poorly insulated walls. Unaware of the form roaming around your house. Well more like his house. Angry eyes boring into your soul as you tried to move his favorite coffee table, glacy fingers trying to stop you from throwing away expensive furniture. You were getting on every single one of his nerves. How dare you come to his house, acting like it's your own, destroying fortune poured into the decoration? Who's that insane woman trying to own his property?

He was having more than enough with you, his only wish to dig his nails into your skin, drawing blood out of you. His only wish to see the life drained out of you, begging him to stop. And his desire only getting worse when it looks like you weren't getting his warnings. How could you ignore such things? Breaking of your new lamp, moving candles and cold, freezing air hitting your skin leaving trails of goosebumps in its awakening. How could you be so dense?

You had toured the whole house, happy and joyful. Sure some things were a bit weird, but that's just your mind playing tricks on you, right? Well you were as sure as you moved to the basement. What you expected was dead rats, cockroaches, spider webs, anything really, but this. Left over wax sealed on the walls and floors, books covering up the whole wood floor , upside-down crosses hanging from the walls and most importantly, a huge pentagram burned into the floor. Perfect circle, and pointy ends of the star. The sight alone making you shiver as cold sweat ran down your body. Breathing heavy as you walked in the room. Each step felt heavy. Each step having you feel colder. Each step having your conscious screaming at you, begging for you to turn back, run away from the house, making your legs feel weak and wobbly as you get closer and closer to the cursed symbole.

Finally, you had discovered him, maybe that would make you leave, maybe you'll finally understand. You don't belong here Y/n. Smirk carved on his face as he watched you approaching the portal to the underworld. The portal to wherever he came from. You should be running away, you should be screaming, repeating prayers after prayers, asking God for help and forgiveness for every sin you had committed in the past. But you didn't, which made his blood boil in anger. No, instead you laughed, shaking your head. Determined to get the place cleaned you did the one thing that kept him away from you, you touched the pentagram. Thus allowing him to finally do what he was so itching to do before, he can finally touch you.

He wanted to kill you, sure, but why not have some fun with you before? Giving up on the idea of making the basement crystal clear, for the circle never faded away and the books all too precious to throw in the bin, you locked up the basement and continued with your life upstairs. You wanted to go back to a normal, routine-like life, but there's something stopping you from that. It's like icy fingers seemed to run up and down your legs every night, hot breath fanning over your face as you tried to shut your eyes close and fall into slumber. It's like eyes followed your every move, burning and looking straight into your soul. And the worse is the hazzy, dizzy feeling you get every time you hoppinto the shower, the smell of burnt caramel, filling your nose, making you ache from the inside as heat flows through your body and straight to your core. Making your eyes roll back as waves of pleasure cam crashing upon you. What was happening? You had absolutely no idea. Though you didn't give up on your dream house, never!

But everything became too much one night. Sleeping tight in your bed, falling into the land of imagination, it's been a while since you had an erotic dream. Red eyes staring back at you, perfectly sharp jawline filling your view, though what was special in this dream was the devil-like horns decorating your dreamy man's head. Standing tall and shiny, dark red contrasting excellently against his sandg blond hair. Skin pale and smooth, patches of red, burnt-like skin patching over his body. Though all these details meant nothing to you. No, it was the cold finger brushing against your legs, parting them as you're fully exposed to his fiery eyes. What a weird dream, right? Oh Y/n, only if you knew.

It's been a while since he had the ability to play with a human body, let alone one so beautiful. One so perfect, aching and arching for him. Seeing you sleeping, with nothing but an oversized shirt, has his mind going wild. He was but a mere demon, he can't contain himself, not when his desire to just wreck you over and over again kept flowing in his blood. Dragging his pointy fingers up and down your legs, making you shiver as he got closer to your heat. Face leaning in hot breath fanning on your lace covered crotch. Taking a look at your face, mouth agape, brows furrowed in pleasure, he knew he had this effect on mortals, but you, you were special.

It's just a dream Y/n! A dream seeming so realistic, it's like someone, or more like him, was really breathing in your scent, face buried between your legs, tongue licking and sucking your soaked panties. It felt so real. All you wanted to do was run your fingers through his hair, and push closer, beg him to just rip your underwear apart and fuck you. It was so real, so good, how can a dream feel like that.

Oh dear Y/n, it's not a dream, no, there really was a man, well no, a demon devouring you, playing tricks on your mind making you think that it's only a hyper realistic dream. "Oh- oh God....." Shaky moan coming out of you, as you pushed your hips forward, begging the demon to just take you already. He was having a lot of fun, roaming in your dreams, making you scream, got him going crazy. Finally listening to your needs, he moved away, earning him a whine as you hand subconsciously traveled down your body, aiming for your lower lips. He was fast though, pulling your panties down and throwing them somewhere in the room, finally giving in and pressing his lips to your skin, sharp teeth nibbling at your inner thighs, covering them in marks. And slowly making his way up, getting so close to the place you need him the most. Trembling as his wet muscle was finally dragging in between your lips, licking and sucking, tongue languidly circling your clit as his eyes looked up, eyebrows knit in pleasure, mouth agape. Slipping down to delve between your slick folds, his hot muscle pressing against your walls, while his nose ever so often brushes against your clit, hot breath fanning over it.

What a dream you were having. Vermillion eyes looking up to you, sharp jawline in your sight, though that meant nothing to you, no what you were drooling over was his horns, rigid and hard, texture making you feel hot, wanting to run your tongue up and down, wrap your hands around them, and pulling him close. And so you did that in real life, hand unconsciously found his horn, gigantic as you held onto it, twisting your hand around it, making the demon growl, sending vibrations right to your core, seeing your back arch off the bed.

Wanting to feel you more, he has ripped your night shirt, with such force it had your breast bouncing. Hand quickly shooting up to have a hold on them. Burning fingers tugging and pulling your nipples away from you, letting go to see your soft skin jiggle. Oh he was having so much fun. Feeling you wriggle underneath him, sign that you were getting close, he started sucking harder, face waving left and right, pushing himself so incredibly close to you. He had to hold your hips to stop you from bucking away from his touch, and just as you were about to cum, he pulled away. Leaving you panting and shaking, whine leaving your lips.

He could fuck you right now, sure. But he wanted to teach you a lesson. Maybe he'll tease you a bit more. Gently turning you, so you're laying on your tummy, grabbing your hips and hoisting your ass in the air. Soft skin, smooth waiting to be spanked. Large palm coming harshly on it, watching it jiggle and starting to redden. Though he wanted more, spitting in your asshole, fingers dipping into your cunt to gather your juice with them, diving his digit inside your tight hole. Feeling your walls flutter around the single finger, head burying deeper into the pillows. Adding another one, stretching you so good as your fingers keep sucking him in, pumping inside of you, earning whine after whine, beg after beg, but that's not what he wanted to hear, no he wanted his name.

Pulling away again before you can drown yourself in pleasure. He saw your body fall, hitting the mattress as he gave himself a few pumps, watching your holes clenching around nothing. Finally having enough with the teasing, he pushed himself in, loving the way your hips immediately began to thrust back at him, thanking his demon powers for not making him cum at the spot. Taking a fist full of your hair, and pulling back, creating the perfect curve of your body. Leaning down, long tongue swiping against your ear shell, for the first time you hear his voice. Deep, and husky, filled with evilness and desire. "If you want me to keep going human, you have to beg for me." Even in your sleeping state, your body responded perfectly to him. Having no idea where that name came from, mind creating it on its own. "Please, please Bakugou, fuck me, break me. I want to feel you so deep inside of me... Oh Bakugou, I'm only at your mercy!" It's all it took him to finally let loose. Pulling away almost completly, only to dig in even deeper, setting a rough, fast pace. Seeing your body rock with every movement of his hips, voice getting increasingly louder, wanton moans filling the room, and probably the whole neighborhood.

And you still think it's a dream? How could you? But all of it felt so magical, so good, too good to be true. Walls clenching around him, hips fast to meet his, as your hands began to tear the soft sheets underneath you. Pulling back at your hair, so you back was pressed on his chest. This new position making him hit the perfect spot inside you, over and over. At this point all that came out of your mouth was his name, repeating it like a prayer. Giving you another few thrusts, setting your body in fire as you finally, for the first time tonight, released, clamping hard around him as his name came out in shaky breaths. Groaning low as he feels you around him, the fluttering of you cunt making his eyes roll back as he presses deep inside you, hot ropes of cum fill you up, painting you walls white.

Pulling out with a hiss, letting your body hit the mattress as he sees his cum dripping out of you, body still shaking from the intense orgasm you had.... If he gets to fuck you like that every night, he really doesn't mind if you keep moving his furniture.

Waking up in the morning, body aching and feeling hot, you looked at yourself, naked and sticky, warm liquid spilling out of you and into the mattress, sheets torn apart and clothes littering the floor. Though what shook you the most was the pentagram burned on your inner thighs, making your whole body shiver, head dizzy as you touch it.... Oh y/n, maybe you should listen to people more often for you are now in big trouble…

#bnha imagines #bnha #bnha headcanons #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #demon au #Smut #Request

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killingkueen · 3 years

Text

There’s Snow Place Like Home*

*the back of the pawnshop

Merry Happy, @silwenworld. How nice to reveal myself; and with a present, too!

summary: Two dumdums get snowed in, and when the heat goes out they have to get creative about staying warm.

rating: E

AO3 link

The door to Game of Thorns opened, pulling Belle from her current paperback. Any pique she felt vanished instantly when she saw who entered.

“Mr. Gold, hello.” She straightened, tugging at the ends of her sweater. She wished she’d had time to put on lipstick that morning. Or any makeup. She just bought a new thing of mascara, too.

“Miss French,” he greeted. His smile was polite, and short lived; Gold turned his attention to the shelf of vases her father had moved closer to the door last week.

Belle tried not to deflate.

“What can I help you with today?” she asked. He was wearing the dark blue shirt, the one with the subtle paisley. It was her favorite, and not because she had a near-matching dress, the lace just as deep and swirling.

Mr. Gold picked up a square vase, also blue. He turned it over, but to check the price or the construction, she wasn’t sure.

“I was thinking of a bouquet, today,” he said to the glass. “Something red, perhaps.”

Belle appreciated the sharp line of his jaw, and how it cut such a nice silhouette while he spoke. “We have carnations, or amaryllis. Those are always nice.”

He made a sound to indicate he was listening, but didn’t turn to look at her. Belle’s shoulders drooped, just a little.

“We also got a new batch of roses, but I remember you ordered those last time.”

He set the vase down, careful not to jostle the shelf. It was a simple movement, his hand placing the glass on the wood, then letting go. His fingers were long, steady, clearly used to handling delicate things. She wondered if he approached everything with such confidence, such assurance that he knew how to touch, handle, and care for. Was he as good with people as objects?

“The roses will do,” he said.

“Roses, right.” She blinked, torn from her fantasy. Her face felt hot, and she hoped her blush wasn’t obvious.

For fuck’s sake, Belle, she chided herself.

She reached for the order pad by the register and hoped she could get through the interaction without embarrassing herself further.

She could not.

“They’re my favorite, you know.” She smiled at his still turned face.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned.” His voice was dry, bored.

Belle looked down at the pad. The stubby pencil rubbed against her finger.

“They’re nice flowers,” she couldn’t help but add. When Gold said nothing else, she asked, “Would you like the vase, too?”

“No, thank you.”

He approached the register, and Belle absolutely did not look up. She refused to watch the sway of his hips as he walked with his cane. He was so fluid and elegant. Not that she was watching him now. But she did risk a peak as he approached, catching the glint of his gold-tipped cane, the nice burgundy of his tie. She had a belt that color, or near enough. It would look good with her blue dress.

For a wild moment, she wondered what he’d do if she leaned over the counter and kissed him. Would he stumble back, shocked? Would he—kiss back? Perhaps lace his hands in her hair while hers tugged at his lapels, urging him closer, taking the breath from his lungs—

A sharp trill emanated from Mr. Gold’s pocket.

Belle looked down, quickly, her face hot.

Gold sighed, reaching into his pocket. He made a face at the caller ID. “Add the amount to my account,” he said, hitting a button and silencing his phone. “If you’ll excuse me, Miss French.”

“I’ll bring your bouquet to the shop, then,” she said to his back, as Gold left the store. “You know, when it’s ready.”

The door closed, and she watched through the window as Gold lifted the phone to his ear. He walked away, and Belle noticed it was snowing, the white flurries delicate and large as they fluttered through the air. The sidewalk already had a neat layer.

With an aggrieved sigh, she dropped her head onto her folded arms. Gold was always looking elsewhere, always interested in the thing just over her shoulder. And when he was looking at her, it was always with a bored, if polite, expression, as if she was just a placeholder until the next exciting thing caught his interest.

Belle wondered what she could do. A new dress, perhaps. Or a haircut. Or maybe, when she delivered his bouquet, she could enact her fantasy and grab the pretty bastard by his tailored suit and just—lay one on him. Kiss him until they were both out of breath and gasping.

It would be great up until he reported her for assault.

Belle sighed. She penciled in Gold’s account number on the order pad, wrote roses, red. She hadn’t asked how many he wanted, so went with his last order: one dozen.

At least she could make his bouquet. She’d pick the best flowers, and tie it all up in a neat bow. And maybe, when she dropped by his shop to deliver it, she’d be able to strike up a conversation. She had asked him about the Tiffany lamp on his counter once. It had been a nice surprise when he’d had a lot to say.

If the day was slow, she could have the roses ready in the afternoon. Seeing him twice in a day—she was going to be spoiled.

Gold did very well in not slamming the door behind him as he entered the back room of his shop. As aggressive as he was in pulling off his overcoat, it was with a controlled shake that rid it of the snow that clung to it. He spared a thought to the weatherman, who had been threatening a storm all week, but it had yet to materialize.

This was supposed to be the day he’d finally do it, he thought. Yeah, right. He ran a hand down his tired face. Every trip to the flower shop was predicated on This Was the Day. Every chance he had at seeing Belle French, every time she caught his eye, whether at the diner, or the pharmacy, or when she’d peek between the slats at the bordered up library—he'd feel something rise in his chest, a warmth he couldn’t explain, the desire to throw himself at her feet.

“Let’s go for coffee,” he wanted to ask. “Have dinner with me,” he’d beg, if he had to. “Come to bed,” he’d let himself think, only in the dark shadow of his bedroom, behind his locked door, under his blankets.

This was the day he would have, too, would have prostrated himself there in her father’s shop if only Regina hadn’t interrupted with her phone call.

“Please give me any amount of your attention and I will be yours until the stars turn to dust,” was on the tip of his tongue, and it would have made it out of his mouth if only his damn phone had been on silent. Damn the mayor and her contracts.

The thought had no teeth, though. No real oomph behind it.

Gold could barely look at the woman without being blinded, let alone open himself up for rejection and ridicule. And if not ridicule, horror, or even—disgust. It would be the worst kind of shock, he knew, to realize that he, Beast of Storybrooke himself, was interested in sweet Belle French.

Gold sighed, feeling hollow, hopeless. His keys and cell phone clattered as he dropped them on his workbench.

At least he got flowers out of it.

Whether he took them home or kept them by his register, each arrangement was the perfect spot of color, eye catching and lovely. Seeing them kept Belle’s smile close, not that he needed the reminder.

He liked the idea of Belle putting together his bouquet. Of her choosing each bloom with the utmost care, each petal counted and preened especially for him. Perhaps she sealed the bow with a kiss. It was a heady thought.

Ridiculous too, of course. Pure fantasy. It was better than the truth, which was that flowers were chosen from whatever available, wrapped in tissue paper and plastic and tossed his way without another thought beyond how much should be added to his balance.

That made it sound like the French’s did subpar work. Gold fiddled with the space heater knob, turning it up with a thoughtful frown. Regardless of his opinion on the patriarch, the arrangements coming out of Game of Thorns were nothing short of exceptional.

The true reality was each bouquet was professionally done, and handed to him with a smile from Belle herself that could never mean what he wanted it to.

Perhaps one day, if he was very brave and Belle was in a charitable mood, he could ask for more of her time and she’d agree.

The day passed slowly. The shop was open, but bereft of customers, which suited Gold just fine. The heater at his feet buzzed, his pen scratched across the thick paper as he looked over his accounts. A world his own, there in his backroom.

Gold had just put on the kettle for tea when the bell jingled. Not bothering to hide his annoyed frown, he swept the curtain aside, stepping into the front. It vanished instantly at the site of Belle, backlit and glowing.

The round of her cheeks were as red as the roses she clutched, their heads peeking out from the shiny gold plastic they were wrapped in. Her hair was a shining, glistening halo of curls that spilled down her shoulders. She was effervescent, standing at the door of his shop, unnatural in her beauty.

He blinked with the realization that the world outside his shop was white; completely blanketed in snow. It glowed in the burgeoning light of the street, a white darkness.

“Miss French,” he greeted, shaking himself. Speaking of snow, a fair amount had entered with her. What wasn’t clinging to her clothes had been tracked in on her boots, which looked quite solid and nothing like her regular heels, thank goodness.

“Did you walk here?” he asked with a disapproving frown.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, stomping her feet and trying in vain to keep the mess to his welcome mat. “Dad had already left with the van on a large order for the hospital, and I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. The storm picked up quick!” The red in her face, embarrassment or the cold he couldn't be sure, made her eyes shine. They were such a lovely blue.

“But, I’m here now,” she said quickly. “And look, your flowers made it.” To prove it, she marched up to his counter, laying the bundle down for him to confirm.

Said bundle was flat from being held against her chest for the single mile that separated their shops, and the wrapping was encased in snow, quickly melting. The roses themselves looked to be in good enough condition, if a little shaken.

“So they have,” he agreed softly. He tapped the counter, a wisp of an idea forming.

Belle smiled. “I could have waited until tomorrow,” she admitted. “But it was snow today and I thought—I mean slow. It was slow, probably because of the snow.” The red this time was definitely from embarrassment. “Anyway, I thought it’d be nice if you had your flowers to get you through the blizzard.”

She was adorable. Gold hoped his face wasn’t too dopey.

He noticed when she pulled her coat tighter against her, and saw she wasn’t wearing a scarf, didn't have a hat.

Gold kept the front of his shop just a tad too cool to be comfortable in winter in order to encourage the good townsfolk to state their business and get out. Coming inside was not the relief from the storm it could have been.

Ah, yes. There was his idea, turning into a plan. The universe had thrown him a bone.

“You’re not intending to walk back?” he asked carefully. “You barely made it as it is.”

“Oh, well.” She at least had gloves on, but they didn’t look thick enough for Gold’s liking. “I already closed the flower shop. I was going to walk home when I finished here.”

Gold tried to keep the eagerness from showing on his face. The house she rented with her father was twice as far as Game of Thorns, and in the opposite direction. On a nice day, the walk was pleasant. With a blizzard raging? Unthinkable.

He told her as much.

“I guess I could ask Dad to swing by to pick me up,” she said, digging out her phone and tapping on the screen. “You know, whenever he finishes with his delivery.”

“Great idea.” Gold lifted the bouquet, keeping as much as the melted snow on the wrapping as he could; he didn’t want to waste anytime cleaning, not when he finally had Belle all to himself.

“I think the storm will stop soon, anyway,” she said, ever the optimist. “How much longer can it keep up?”

Knowing Maine, easily for the next week. “Come on then.”

“Sorry?”

Gold was halfway through the curtain, roses snug in his arms. They’d perk up when they were submerged in water, rather than swimming in it. “Come warm up. I have the space heater on.”

“In the back?” Her eyes were wide.

Had he overstepped? He couldn’t think how. “I put the kettle on to boil. Should be ready any moment now.”

She took a hesitant step forward eyeing the curtain as if it hid a trap door. “I mean, if it’s okay.”

“I insist. Come have a cup of tea.”

He held the curtain to the side, happy when she stepped ahead of him.

Today was the day, after all.

The first thing Belle noticed was things. Shelves stuffed full of boxes and baubles, careworn tools and rolls of fabric. The worktable took up a fair amount of space as well, with an aisle just because enough for a slim man with a cane to walk through.

The second thing she noticed was a bed, no larger than a twin, tucked away in the corner. She bit her lip, filing that detail away for much later.

The sound of Gold stacking what looked like his account books caught her attention. He pulled out the chair that was closest to the heater, beckoning her to sit.

“How do you take your tea?” he asked, opening a cupboard and taking out two cups with matching plates.

“Straight, please,” she said, stuffing her gloves in her coat pocket, before peeling it off and draping it over the back of the chair.

Belle tried to look around with her greedy little eyes, but her attention was drawn to Gold, his fluid movement as he did nothing more than carefully scoop tea into a strainer ball. Even him pouring the hot water into the teapot, an elegant porcelain piece with a long sprout and blue feathering, was captivating. The packet of chocolate chip cookies that were spread out on a plate caught her attention too, albeit for a different reason.

“Am I forgetting something?” he asked, noticing her gaze on him.

“No, no,” Belle said, not looking away.

In no time at all, the tea was poured, a cookie nibbled, and Mr. Gold was sitting next to her on a stool he pulled out from under the bench.

The silence wasn’t overbearing, but she still looked around a little desperately, trying to find something interesting to say.

“What were you reading?” Gold asked.

“Reading?”

“This morning, when I placed my order. You were holding a book.”

“I was,” she said, feeling warm. It wasn’t from the tea. “It was A Christmas Carol.”

“A classic,” he said, eyebrows raised.

From there it was easy. Talk of the book moved to talk of the movies, turned to which adaptation was the best one. As it turned out, they both agreed that the Muppets took it, hands down.

Belle rubbed the handle of her teacup, the porcelain warm. She felt lightheaded, if she were honest. The dim light of the back room, paired with the quiet burr of the heater, the quiet burr of Gold’s voice, the full force of his attention, finally, after all this time—it was too much. He was gazing at her with a softness in his eyes she’d never seen before, and it was all much too much. She felt she might float away.

So of course, that was when Belle’s coat chimed. She wanted to groan when Gold cleared his throat, looking away.

Pulling out her cell phone, she saw the message was from her father, asking where she was. Oh. Lovely.

“Dad made it home,” she said with forced lightness.

Gold frowned. “Home?”

“I guess my message didn’t send,” Belle said, knowing full well she hadn’t actually sent one. “Must have, um, the network?” She shrugged, giving up on lying quickly. “But it looks like Dad went straight home after his delivery.”

“I see.”

Her phone pinged with a new message, and her stomach dropped at what it told her. “He says it's really nasty out. Couldn’t get the van all the way up the street, so he legged it the last two blocks.”

That wasn’t the best news. It was, arguably, quite bad. She could feel her plan backfiring in real time.

“It sounds unsafe, to ask him to come,” Gold said.

The only thing she could give him was a tight smile.

It had been a simple thought, if a little impulsive: pretend that she was stranded here at Gold’s shop, in the middle of heavy snow. When it became apparent her father wasn’t coming, she’d ask oh-so-sweetly for a ride home. Gold was a gentleman. He wouldn’t refuse. That she was sitting nice and toasty in his backroom with no prompting from her proved as much.

Her plan wouldn’t only have extended her time with Gold, but also been the perfect opening to ask him out to dinner as a thank you.

“Er,” she said, looking lost. Belle hadn’t considered just how bad the storm was.

“Miss French,” he said, clearing his throat again. He had the look of someone trying to deliver bad news as delicately as they could. “I’d drive you home myself, but if your father’s van can’t make it through this snow, my Cadillac certainly won’t, either.”

“I understand.” She had done this to herself. She accepted that.

“I apologize,” he said, and to his credit sounded like he meant it.

“It’s not your fault,” Belle said, rallying herself. She pushed her chair out, ready to stand up.

“Where are you going?” Gold asked, alarmed.

“Home. Looks like I’m walking after all.” Belle reached for her coat, surprised when Gold’s hand closed over hers. It was dry and warm; she felt a pleasant thrill shoot through her arm.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m wearing boots.”

“I don’t care if you’re wearing skis strapped to rockets, you’re not going out there.”

Belle blinked at him, but didn’t move, not wanting to sever the contact. “What do you suggest then?”

“Staying here,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“For how long?”

“However long it takes for the storm to clear. Mr. Tillman will be out to plow as soon as it stops. I’ll drive you home when it’s safe.”

Taking advantage of Mr. Gold’s goodwill for a cup of tea was one thing. Forcing his hand to shelter her for hours was something else entirely. But there was a part of her, quite a large part, that wanted to press her advantage. And he was offering.

“Are you sure? I’d hate to put you out,” she hedged.

“Miss French, I insist.” He licked his lips, tugging gently on her hand. “It might not be the most comfortable option, but it’s better than getting lost in a blizzard.”

“I guess you’re right,” Belle said, sitting back down.

“Yes. I am,” he sniffed. “Glad we agree.” From the look on his face Gold hadn’t expected such quick acquiescence, but wasn’t going to complain.

“For the record,” she said, smiling. “I’m quite comfortable.”

Surprised pleasure bloomed across his face. “I’m happy you think so."

“I do. Thank you, Mr. Gold, for letting me stay.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said quickly. “You don’t want to be out there.”

“Really,” Belle agreed. “I mean, how much longer can this last, right?”

It wasn’t the first time either of them alluded to such a thing that night, but it must have been one time too many.

The lights above them flickered for a breath of a moment, then cut out.

Because of course they did.

“Ah,” Belle said into the sudden darkness. She wondered if Gold heard her over his cursing.

“No, don’t move, please, just. Stay there,” Gold said, his chair scraping against the hardwood.

“Wait,” she said, scrambling to turn on the flashlight app on her phone. “Here, so you don’t trip on something.”

In the light, she could see one corner of his mouth lift. “I know my way around the shop, my dear, but thank you.”

He turned, illuminated as he brushed the curtain aside. She heard the tap of his cane as he walked to the front. There was a clock, somewhere to her left, that ticked down the seconds he was gone.

The curtain signaled his return. “The whole of main street is out. Probably most of the town, too.”

Belle made a noise to show she was listening.

“I, um. I think we might be here much longer than a few hours,” he said. Belle hadn’t realized how many whirring, buzzing things there had been in the pawnshop; between the generator, the lights, the space heater, even the mini fridge that Gold had kept the milk. When it all cut out, they weren’t just left in darkness, but complete silence. There was nothing but the sound of their breathing, and the clock.

“Yes,” she said into the stillness. “I think you’re right.”

“Please, just take the cot.” Gold said for the hundredth time.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Belle said for the hundred and first. “What will people say when they find out you froze to death in your own shop?”

“I have my coat. It’s not that cold.”

“I can hear your teeth chattering.”

She could do no such thing. Gold sighed, feeling weary. They’d been arguing for the last twenty minutes at least.

It hadn’t taken long for the cold to creep in after the power went out. Bundled up in their coats, they’d used the rest of the hot water for a last bit of tea, and neither one complained about their dinner being the rest of the biscuits.

When the question of sleeping arrangements arose, Gold thought it was obvious: Belle could take the bed and the nice blankets, and he would watch over her, stalwart and uncomplaining.

The stubborn woman was hearing none of it.

“I can survive a night in the chair as long as I know you’re taken care of.”

“That’s sweet,” she said with a glare, “but not very practical.”

Practicality had nothing to do with it. The candles flickered on the table. He kept a handful in his cupboards for this very situation, and it helped Belle to save her cell phone battery if they should need it when the service came back on.

He stared at the flames. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’d be much more comfortable if I were warmer,” she shot back. She had at least made it as far as sitting on the cot, boots kicked off and feet tucked underneath her. “We’re small people. We can both fit.”

They couldn’t, not unless she were wrapped around him like a scarf. It sounded like a dream to Gold, but he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking it was what she actually wanted.

“You’ll sleep easier if it's just you on it.”

“If you refuse to share with me, then I’ll stay at the table with you.” She patted the quilt underneath her. “We can share the blankets. Wear them like cloaks.”

“No.”

“Really, Mr. Gold.” A pout had begun to pull at her lips. It was cute enough to kiss away, which was exactly why he’d stay where he was, thank you. “Think of my toes.”

“Your. . . toes.”

“Yes. They’re so cold right now, I think they might actually fall off. And you’re sitting there, miles away, doing nothing about it, when you could get on the bed with me, and keep me and my toes warm.”

“It might help if you got under the blankets, first.”

“And if they fall off,” she said, ignoring him, “I will sue you for damages.”

That shocked a laugh out of him. “Sue me?”

“What would the town say then, hm? Mr. Gold being taken to court because Belle French can’t wear heels anymore.”

That would be a tragedy all on it’s own. “You seem under the impression I give a damn what the town thinks of me.”

“What about what I think? I’d be very upset with you.”

“Unthinkable,” he murmured. The pout was back, her lip protruding. Gold’s resolve was slipping. It was bloody cold in the shop. His hands felt like ice, he couldn’t feel his feet at all. It would be warmer on the bed with two, he knew that much.

“Please share the bed with me?” Belle asked, going in for the kill. Her eyes shone in the candlelight. “I know I’m asking for a lot, but there’s no sense in either of us being cold tonight.”

Endless moments passed. How did she get her eyes to shine so brightly?

“Alright,” Gold said.

If he thought she was shining before, it paled in comparison to the smile that lit up her face.

She stood when he did, pulling back the blankets. She shimmied out of her coat, too, laying it over.

“We’ll be warmer if we use the coats as extra blankets,” she said innocently, reaching up to help him out of his. “Keeping them on will suck away body heat, not hold it in.”

While she spread his coat over hers, he removed his suit jacket, laying it over the back of the chair. If they needed it, it was within reach. His belt and shoes soon followed.

When he looked at the cot next, he was greeted with Belle, tucked in and holding one corner of the coverings up, ready for him to slip in next to her.

He could deny her nothing.

After blowing out the candles, he settled in.

The weight of the blankets was pleasant, especially with the added coats. It couldn’t compare to the weight of Belle, solid and warm.

Gold shifted to his back, Belle happily curling around him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. His arm came around to rest in the hollow of her back.

“Is this okay?” she asked, rubbing her face against him.

Tentatively, Gold ran his hands up her spine. She sighed, snuggled closer.

“It’s perfect,” he decided. Gold didn’t know why he had resisted for so long.

Belle sighed again, deeper, sinking further into his arms. Her leg hooked around his, twining together, her thigh brushing his groin.

Ah, right. That was why.

Maybe he could convince her to go back-to-back. Or he could turn to his side, let her be the big spoon. Now that was an excellent idea.

Her hand, delicate and soft, touched lightly on his shoulder. “Is this still okay?” she asked.

It was agonizing torture. “Yes.”

A pause. “It’s just, you’ve gone rigid.”

He huffed, willing his body to relax.

“It’s fine,” he said.

They lay together in the dark, simply breathing each other in. The clock on his workbench dutifully whirred on, and the soft but distinct tickticktick pulled him into a sort of trance.

Belle began to rub circles into the fabric of his shirt and he felt himself sink further. He could smell her floral shampoo. He nuzzled her, gently, hoping she wouldn’t mind.

“Gold?” Belle asked, breath blooming against his neck.

“Hm?” he hummed. His eyes were closed. He didn’t remember doing that.

“What would you say if I told you that skin-to-skin contact is much more efficient to staying warm?”

Her limbs tightened around him as if she was sure he’d leap from the bed and away from her. He didn’t want to do that, though, even as what she was asking sunk in.

Gold swallowed, afraid of being too honest in the dark. “I suppose I would accuse you of trying to seduce me.”

He felt her relieved sigh. “Would it work?”

“You’re doing a great job of it as it is.”

Her breath staggered. Her hands played with the buttons on his shirt, but didn’t slip them through their eye holes.

“And do you want to be seduced?” Her nose mapped a trail from behind his ear along his jaw, and he was about to combust.

His answer was to grasp her hair at the base of her neck and pull her towards him. He overshot, his aim terrible in the dark. Her lips landed on the edge of his top lip, brushing the curse of his nose.

Still holding her close, he flipped them, so he was above her. He cradled her head, his hands combing through her lush hair. Oh, yes, much easier to kiss her like this. Belle agreed if her happy moan was anything to go by; that and the way her legs parted, allowing him to rest against her fully.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he whispered into her ear, reveling in her shiver.

“I want you, Gold.” The words had barely left her mouth before he was kissing her again.

“Silas,” he said. “My name is Silas.” Belle ran her hands up his arms, her fingers sinking into his hair.

“Silas,” she breathed. “I want you so much.”

He kissed her, hard, tongue demanding entrance that Belle happily granted.

If the night was spent only kissing and maybe heavy petting, it would have exceeded Gold’s expectations by a considerable degree. Belle clearly had other plans, though, as he found out when her hands touched his bare chest.

He jolted, her cool hands searing as they touched him. The minx was adept at unbuttoning a shirt, he’d give her that. She was also proving quite skilled at undoing his trousers; they pushed them down his thighs together, Gold leaning a little to the side so he could get the leverage to kick them to the end of the cot.

Now that he was bare, it seemed only fair that Belle be next. Gold grasped the end of her sweater, pushing it up, up, up. When he threw it down to the floor, she hissed at the cold air as it made its way into their cocoon. It was worth it for the wide expanse of warm skin he now had to discover. Fuck, she was soft.

Gold’s hands clutched at her sides as he mouthed her breasts, the nipples already tight buds.

“Silas,” she moaned, thrusting her chest up. While his mouth was occupied, he peeled her leggings down as far as he could reach without outright sitting up. She took the hint, kicking them to the end of the bed to join his trousers.

Gold adjusted the blankets, making sure they were covered, and that Belle was warm underneath him. She panted, breath heavy as he kissed across her collar bone. He trailed down to the top of her chest, mouthing at the hollow at the swell of her breasts while his hand trailed to her cunt.

Her core was molten.

“Fuck,” Gold hissed, feeling the wet heat of her.

“Please, Silas” Belle said, bucking her hips into his hand. “Fuck me.”

Cock in hand, he guided himself into her. If he thought she was hot on his fingers, it didn’t come close to her wrapped around his prick

“Oh, Belle,” he moaned, lost.

They set a slow hard rhythm; not wanting to displace the blankets, Belle angled her hips up, cradling Gold while he rocked in and out.

Pulse by pulse, breath by breath, he had never felt so good. Belle raised her knees higher, allowing more of him to sink inside her. Her breath hitched when he hit a good spot. He hit it again, harder.

Silas kissed her along her neck, wet sucking kisses that landed in time with his hips. He wished he could see her, wanted to memorize the look on her face and he gave this to her. The dark brought into focus the sure touch of their wandering hands, the vice of her cunt as she took him.

“Are you close, love?” he asked, gaining speed, his thrusts becoming shallow. His hand sunk down to just above where they joined, rubbing her clit as she moaned in his ear.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she said, words breathy. She kissed his jaw, hands weaving into his hair, pulling as she clenched—as she came—as her legs wrapped around him beseeching him to follow her.

He could deny her nothing.

She woke in the night, the room dark and cold. Silas was a furnace next to her, his arm stretched across her ribcage keeping her anchored. She smiled, wiggling against him, relishing being so close to him.

Silas’ heart was steady and strong beneath her ear. Sweet music. Belle turned her head to kiss him there, over his heart. She trailed her nose down, to the side, finding his nipple. She kissed that, too. Then closed her mouth over it, sucking.

Silas grunted, but didn’t wake. A final lick, and Belle moved downwards, further into their nest.

Boney and warm; his hip, she thought. Belle kissed it, regardless.

Silas hummed, shifting slightly. Belle kissed him again, moving further down, and a little to the side, until her lips met with a wiry patch of hair.

“Belle?” he asked, voice muffled and heavy with sleep.

In answer she licked him, just over his pubris. The muscles jumped, and she felt his shudder.

“Belle,” he moaned. The sound pulled at something deep in her belly. “Please.”

“Hm?” she asked, kissing back the way she came, away from his curls.

His moan this time was agonized. “Your mouth, sweetheart. Please.”

“My mouth?” she asked, innocently, nibbling on the spot just below his tummy, sucking the skin into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he said, hips jutting.

Belle licked him. Another kiss, another suck. She breathed him deep, the whole of him. That she could make out her own scent dried on his skin had heat pooling low in her belly. They tasted so good together.

“Belle, please,” Gold tried again. “Put your mouth on my cock.”

She hadn’t expected him to ask. In reward, she stopped her teasing, using her hand to grasp and position him before taking him past her lips.

Their moans mixed together; his from the sweet heat, hers from the perfect way he filled her. What a discovery, that they fit together perfectly no matter the circumstance.

Next when she woke, the lights were still off, the cold no less harsh as it nipped at her nose. She could see the morning sun peak through the single window signaling a new day and a break in the storm.

Belle tried not to grumble as she rolled over, burrowing under the blankets and pressing her cold nose into Silas’ chest.

He shook with a silent laugh, and she wondered how long he had been awake.

“Good morning,” he said, pressing a kiss to her crown. His voice was scratchy in that unused-sleepy way, and it made Belle’s toes curl.

She could get used to waking up to this. She wanted to get used to it very much.

A buzzing from the table made her pause. She turned her head, sure she knew the source.

“Your cell phone,” Silas confirmed. “It keeps going off.”

She kissed his chest, right above his heart. “You didn’t wake me.”

“You’d have answered it if I had.”

Belle made a noise of agreement, even as she made no move to leave the cot. Or more accurately, leave the circle of Silas’ arms, which were wrapped around her snugly, one hand rubbing patterns into her lower back.

“Someone will be by to dig us out, now that it’s morning,” he said.

He sounded less than pleased, which pulled a smile from her. She kissed his cheek. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

His response was immediate. “Of course.” He wet his lips. “Perhaps, ah.” His hair was tangled on the pillow, and there was a nice hickey forming on the curve of his neck, another one just under his collarbone.

He looked ravaged, ruined; very thoroughly and happily debauched.

“Perhaps?” Belle hooked her leg around his thigh, her heel touching the back of his knee. She felt his cock stir in interest.

“Perhaps, I mean, if you wanted to…”

Belle bit her lip. They were naked, still wrapped around each other after a night of the best sex she had ever had, and he was too shy to ask her out on a date.

It really put her stargazing into perspective. They’d work on it, she decided. They had the time.

“I’d like to do this again,” she told him, catching his eye. “In less pressing circumstances."

He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers, voice sweet and hopeful. “Let me make you dinner.”

Belle had only just pressed her lips to his when her phone gave a particularly judgmental vibration. She left the blankets long enough to snatch it from the table, before she tucked herself back next to Silas, who welcomed her back happily.

She awakened the screen to see she had 7% battery left. Just enough to tell her father she was safe and warm, and that she’d be home in the afternoon after plenty of time for the snow to settle and Tillman to plow.

And a few other things she chose not to mention.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rumbelle secret santa

57 notes · View notes

ardent-musings · 3 years

Text

Sleazeballs and Submission

Murphy McNully Smut

Warning: NSFW 18+, this is revenge for @kc-needs-coffee making me feel feelings. How absolutely dare ye. It’s pure filth folks.

You were livid. Absolutely fuming at the report’s inconsiderate assumptions about you and Murphy; although you did your best to hold in your sneers and glares from the rest of the guests at the “Kestrals for Kids” Gala. Of course, you understood that you had a sizeable reputation when it came to the world of Quidditch. That was to be expected. And yet the fact that the reporter saw you as eye candy for your former teammate made you sick to your stomach. But none of that even compared to the way he so flippantly condescended Murphy on his big night.

Yes, Murphy was in a wheelchair. Anyone with relatively good eyesight could notice that. To you, it felt like that was the only thing the reporter noticed about the man that you loved. The man who made so many sacrifices so you could live out your dream post –Hogwarts. The man who spent nights out with your dad just because they felt like it. The man that loved you to the moon and back. After hearing the reporters vitriol take on your husband made you not even angry. It was more than that. It was pure fury that settled within your chest.

But for now, those feelings had to wait. You stood off to the side of the large room after vacating the terrace with Dougan who quickly left you at the promise of another scotch. That was fine by you though. You only had eyes for Murphy.

He was currently with the little kids at the event, grinning happily as they sat with him for rounds and rounds of pictures, being blinded every time the flash went off. It was nice to see him so comfortable. So in his element and so wonderfully himself.

After an hour had passed and most of the guests had left the busy event, you decided to take some time to yourself out on the terrace. The night breeze was helping cool you skin, but the anger that festered started to build again as you stared at the spot where reporter had taken your picture not too long ago. Your painted fingertips tapped on the side of your champagne glass, hoping the smooth bubbly drink would do something to calm you. It did nothing.

“Hello, Rising Star. Care for some company?”

You turned to see that Murphy had joined you, taking a moment to look out the glass barrier to admire the lush landscape before turning his sparkling grey eyes towards you. Even in the shadows they were bright. He was warm and cheerful, and regardless of how upset you were, you didn’t want to ruin his already good mood.

“I always want your company, Murph,” you hummed, taking another sip of your drink even though you knew it wasn’t giving you the effect you wanted.

“Did you have a good night?”

His question, though innocent and well intentioned, reminded you of how the beginning of your evening played out. The reporter’s dumb questions, his gross stinky cigars, and the scathing comments about Murphy resurfaced. Before you could hide it, your glare on Murphy intensified, trying your hardest drink in the image of the man you cared so deeply for.

Instead of answering him, you busied your body by waltzing behind him, your gold stiletto heels clicking against the stone floor with every step. He craned his neck back, trying to follow your path, but he let out a surprised groan once you gently gripped his neck from behind and kissed the side of it, focusing on his beating pulse. You couldn’t help but squeeze a bit, enjoying how Murphy’s breath hitched at the pinch of your manicured grip.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what’s going on?” His face curled in a satisfied smirk.

“I just need you,” you admitted softly, your hot breath tickling his ear, making him stiffen in his chair. Before, at the beginning of the night when decorum was important, you worried about leaving lipstick traces on his skin. But not now. Right now, you just had to prove to him how much he meant to you.

He growled lowly as you tugged on his hair, enjoying the way your nails scrapped and messed up his perfectly styled hair while you nibbled along his neck. Murphy was reeling in the attention, surprised when you tilted his head back and brought the champagne flute up to his lips to give him a taste of your drink. After swallowing the liquor, his eyes grew dark, eating up the image of you in your golden dress as you circled around to face him like a hungry vulture. Your getup had a deep neckline, and he licked his lips as you leaned in to kiss him properly. You wore that style of dress specifically to toy with Murphy’s desire for your chest, and he knew it.

“Call me selfish, but I don’t want anyone else to ever touch you.”

You left his kiss and slowly lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. His eyes bulged at the promise you were presenting as you flipped your scarlet hair over your shoulder.

“I’d suggest locking the door, big guy,” you chuckled as you started to run your hands over his knees and up his thighs teasingly. Without a second of hesitation, he pulled out his wand and muttered a spell in the direction of the French doors that separated you two from the stragglers at the event.

With a wicked grin, you started to unbuckle his belt, finding it comical how he was gripping the handles of his seat with such strength and for a moment you wished his hands were tangled in your hair like that. Usually, you would just pull down his pants as far as you had to; however, the report’s judgement on your husband’s body echoed in your ear.

He saw Murphy as undesirable, which to you was the most outlandish idea. But even Murphy had his insecurities some days. Tonight was about making him feel sexy. Making him feel worthy. Making him feel irresistible.

You pulled down Murphy’s pants further down his firm thighs, finding the shiny white and even the abrasive red scars on his leg beautiful. They made up Murphy; every tiny line weaved into the smoothness of his surrounding skin: a mixture of soft and rough. You wanted to appreciate all of him. So you slowly kissed the lines that littered his leg, alternating between biting the skin at his knee and then grazing the tip of your tongue along his thigh like his skin was a map for you to travel.

Once you made eye contact with Murphy, you saw his grey eyes softer than they were just seconds earlier. His brows were furrowed at the middle, confused by your subtle worship of his scars. But you loved this. Seeing him all vulnerable before you. His smart mouth was something you adored and yet his lips frowned as you continued your gentle ministrations on his leg.

You sat up high on your knees, gripping his waist beneath his dress shirt and placed a kiss over the wet spot on his briefs. His hips bucked at the feeling, finally reaching down to stroke your cheek in appreciation. He loved how you look nuzzling into his clothed cock while on your knees.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you babbled mindlessly, your thoughts clouded with the vision of your mouth on Murphy. “Please.”

Murphy nearly melted at the desperation in your voice. You usually got like this after he got you off a few times; however it was strange to see you pout at the mere thought of doing anything to him. With the hand that still hovered over your cheek, he pulled you in for a kiss. It wasn’t forceful, just compacted with all the insatiable feelings you too felt for each other. Kissing him was one of your favorite things to do; although Murphy’s need for you on him was becoming apparent as he sighed into your mouth.

“Does my darling girl wanna taste?” His jaw clenched as he looked down at your pleading form, pulling down your bottom lip with his thumb. All you could do was nod enthusiastically, already overcome by your neediness.

The ache in your knees was growing, but you had yet to fulfill your plan, so with a cheeky wink, you pulled down his briefs and grazed your tongue from the base to the tip of his cock in one long lick. Murphy grinned at the feeling, running his hands through his hair at your teasing tongue. His view was something straight out of a fantasy: your hands and deep red lips were working on him with such fervor, your copper hair was in his grip and from this angle he could tell that you weren’t wearing a bra beneath your slinky dress. It was overwhelming and yet he wouldn’t dare turn away from his beautiful girl on her knees.

All he could do was slump further into his chair as you gripped him in your hand, pumping him perfectly as you went back to kissing his scars. He had never had anyone give his body so much attention, especially the parts of him people would usually turn away from. And yet, there you were, marveling at every curve, scar, and dip of his body. You surprised him every time you did it, and every time he thanked whatever holy power there was for putting you in his life.

He was relieved that he locked the door behind him but with the way your lipstick was leaving marks on him, Murphy regretted not placing a silencing charm around you two as well. His breathing grew more labored as you took him back into your mouth, hollowing around him. Murphy couldn’t help but let out a weak chuckle at the whole situation, growing overwhelmed by the way you tightened your grip.

Before he could get off, you pulled away from him which made the man above you groan in frustration. But you didn’t leave him waiting long.

“You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily,” you reminded him as you continued to pump him in your hands, digging your nails onto his leg to steady yourself.

“No you don’t, my little beater. Strongest girl I know, you can take it.”

He chuckled darkly at you, gripping your hair a bit tighter, growing more desperate for his release. Murphy’s hips were now unrelenting; thrusting up quickly only to grunt as you coughed around him. But you didn’t care. You rejoiced in the way he was using you, because deep down, you knew that he would only ever choose you. This was your way of reminding him that you picked him as well.

The tears on your face trickled down your flushed cheeks, your efforts working in overdrive to prove yourself to Murphy, touching him in every way you knew he loved. You hummed around him as he lifted his arms behind his head to grip at his seat, meanwhile his hips jutted up from his chair as best he could. Harsher grunts were ripped from his chest, unable to keep quiet as you started scratching the inside of his taut thighs. Your name and filthy swears tumbled from his lips, biting down on them as he was nearing his high.

“C’mon, darling. Fuck, you’re too goddamn good,” was all he could mutter as you hollowed around him, your eyes meeting his as you giggled around him.

With a final grunt, Murphy released down your throat, his clothed chest heaving as the cool summer breeze made him realize just how warm he grew under your touch. He chuckled, hips still bucking as you kitten licked every drop he offered you. Your knees were wobbling from being pressed against the stone floor for so long, but you couldn’t care less.

Murphy rolled his eyes at you, growing overstimulated as you dragged your nails along the inside of his thigh leaving light scratches in their wake. He growled at your teasing, biting the inside of his cheek as he gripped your jaw firmly, beckoning you to rise from your position and onto his lap.

His hold on your chin was strong and you couldn’t turn away from his gaze even if you tried. His gray eyes were wild with desire for you and your heart started racing from his intensity. Your face tickled from the huffs of labored breaths he was still releasing as he came down from his high. Murphy was not only staring at you like he wanted you, he looked at you like he owned you.

“How long have you been devising this little plan, sweetheart?” His words were sweet, but his tone was pure filth.

“Since cocktail hour,” you admitted breathlessly, his fingers trailed from your chin to rest at the base of your neck, holding you like a collar would.

“Since cocktail hour,” he mocked, tipping his head to the side and laughing in your face. Not in a mean way; Murphy would never be cruel towards you. He chuckled deeply at your response because he knew that your mind must’ve been reeling with the thought of him for hours as he went on and worked the night. “So then tell me, love…”

You gasped loudly at the sudden feeling of Murphy reaching underneath your lavish dress to circle your clit with a firm thumb.

“Aw, I was right, darling. You’re dripping. And I didn’t even have to do anything.”

His face twisted in a self-assured grin, one that you loved to see him wear. That meant he was feeling confident, which he should feel all the time. He was everything you could ever want.

Soon enough, his talented fingers started pumping into you as his thumb continued to toy with your body, drawing whiny moans from you with every thrust. His other hand was tangled in your hair, making sure you kept his eyes on him at all times.

“Better keep quiet. There’s no silencing spell in place and beyond those doors are some very influential people. Wouldn’t want them to see my pretty girl getting finger fucked now would we?”

Your eyes rolled back at his comment. Being caught wasn’t your game plan, but the idea of everyone knowing that Murphy owned your body so well is an intoxicating thought.

“Or maybe you do want that?” He hummed against your mouth, kissing every whimper you released against his lips. “Does my baby want everyone to know who gets to play with you? Want everyone to know how good I make you feel?”

Your release was so close, and Murphy’s clenched jaw and teasing words was bringing you to the edge. His fingers were relentlessly working your every nerve in the best way possible, making you clench around him. Until there was nothing left to squeeze.

Murphy pulled his hand away from you, making you buck against his lap which only made your gorgeous husband laugh softly.

“You don’t get to cum, darling,” he began licking your sweetness off his fingers as he stared into your stunning and blown out eyes. “Not until I say so. Do you understand?”

Beneath the thin layer of your dress was the rapid rise and fall of your chest, which Murphy took no steps to hide his gaze on your breasts. His face was no longer as stern as before, he was looking up at you with an amused expression, enjoying how your body had slumped against his from your pleasure.

His nose trailed up the side of your neck, getting lost in your perfume as he kissed the shell of your ear.

“Do you understand?” he groaned.

Wordlessly, you nodded slowly. The feeling of your delayed high made you delirious; you would agree to anything Murphy said if that meant he would eventually touch you again. He pulled you in by the back of your neck and placed a kiss over your hazy eyelids, down your nose. His lips trailed across your cheek and then your jaw until they finally landed on your lips. He tasted like your champagne and for the first time in the night you finally felt drunk off of something.

“I love you, you filthy thing,” he chuckled which made you hide your face in his neck, groaning in annoyance from his teasing. “Up, darling.”

You stood up from his lap with weak legs as he fixed his clothes, trying his hardest to look relatively normal. His fingers raked through his hair to calm the golden strands, but since the event was practically over, Murphy didn’t care that much. With a flick of his wand, the French doors which were once magically sealed shut unlocked in a second.

The distance between the terrace and the Ministry issued car was far too long, growing worse every time Murphy was halted by a remaining guest who wished to speak with him. You stood proudly beside your husband as he worked his charm, you would’ve enjoyed the moment but instead you had to clench your thighs to fight off the desire your body was still demanding. Fake smiles painted your face even though you wanted to be sincere. It just wasn’t happening at the moment.

After a few stops and curious questions, you and Murphy finally reached the black government car that was waiting to take you back to your flat. Thirty minutes. You just had to endure another thirty minutes.

Except that wasn’t what Murphy had planned. As soon as you two were settled in the car and his chair was secured in the back, he closed the partition, put up a silencing spell and immediately began toying with your clit yet again. It wasn’t what you needed and Murphy knew that, too. He wasn’t touching you to make you feel good, he was touching you because he could, and you loved it.

Thirty minutes. You endured thirty torturous minutes of gentle grazes against your clit that did nothing to silence the ache you felt for him. The whole time he whispered filthy compliments to you as you tried your hardest to sit still and look inconspicuous until you reached the flat.

Thankfully, once you reached your destination, you were able to regain some of your sense. The driver assisted with getting Murphy’s chair, although your husband quickly yet kindly dismissed any further help. He didn’t need it.

The moment you two entered the threshold of your flat, Murphy lifted himself onto the soft cotton sheets of your bed. He ripped off his shirt so his wide shoulders were fully exposed to you and your nails instinctively dug into the taut muscle. His grip on your hips was almost painful, but you craved Murphy, in anyway he’d take you.

You yelped as he picked you up over his shoulder and slammed your body down on the bed. He chuckled lowly at your reaction, but soon enough his movements proved to be just as desperate as you felt. He pulled the neckline of your dress to the side to release one of your breasts. The sudden exposure to the cold night air made you gasp, but it was Murphy’s sucking on your nipple that made you yell and grind against his thigh.

“I’ve gotta have you, my love. God, I can’t fucking wait,” he groaned as he lifted the skirt of your sparkly dress over your hips, relishing in just how wet you still were.

He held himself up with one arm as you undid his belt and made quick work of his pants and underwear, lining himself up with you.

“Hands up,” he instructed. As soon as you lifted both your hands up over your head, he captured your wrists in a single hand. You gasped at the feeling of being so powerless beneath him but it was everything you wanted and more.

“I love you,” he moaned more so to himself as he pushed himself fully into you, his head dipped onto your chest at the feeling of you squeezing him. Instinctively, your legs raised to hook around his waist, encouraging him to rock into you harder. He stretched you so good and you couldn’t help but whine as he pumped into you slowly but entirely, every inch of him was accepted by your greedy body.

Murphy marveled at you beneath him, mesmerized by the bounce of your tits every time he thrusted into you, but god your little cries were the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard. You bit down hard on your lower lip, unable to control an ounce of the situation, but you didn’t have to. Murphy knew your body better than anyone.

Your back arched uncomfortably as his pelvis grinded against your clit with every snap of his hips. You were already so sensitive but soon enough he was ravenously pounding you into the mattress.

“Please, please, baby,” you cried against his neck before biting down on the point where his shoulder met his collarbone.

“Go on, darling. You deserve it. Cum for me.”

Without another word, Murphy laced his fingers with yours as you came hard around him, your whole body thrashed beneath him. It was almost too much to handle, but Murphy was chasing his own high. After a few more thrusts and a cry of your name, he finished, fully dropping his sweaty body against yours.

You were fucked beyond comprehension, the slick gold dress was barely hanging on you anymore and your hair was a wild mess as it fanned out behind you. But you didn’t care.

“I love you.”

Murphy sighed happily at your declaration, memorizing every line of your, now, calm and thoroughly loved body. He loved looking at you after making love to you, no matter how rough or romantic. The sight of you was too beautiful to pass up.

“Wanna take a nap, my love? We can talk afterwards, yeah?”

At the sound of sleep, you nodded tiredly. Still semi covered in your golden dress, you slipped underneath the comforting sheets of your bed. Murphy followed you after covering himself up with his discarded underwear and his crisp business shirt. They weren’t the most practical outfits for sleeping, but as soon as your head hit the pillow, you succumbed to your exhaustion.

Murphy’s strong body pulled yours to him, leaving a whisper of kisses over your exposed shoulder. He uttered a final word before he too fell asleep.

“Mine.”

#murphy mcnully smut #murphy mcnully #hogwarts mystery #coffee and commentary #Murtriona

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utterlyinevitable · 4 years

Note

‘Of all the lies I have ever lived, my favorite was you and I” Ethan x MC. ❤️ love your writing!!

thank you so much!🥰 i hope i did the request justice 🙈

For All The Lies

Word Count: 1.4k Warning: lil bit of angst Summary: This takes place two years after OH2.

(art by @juliaraeart) ________________________________________

They sat around the fire of the large Cape Cod backyard at Harper’s engagement party. Becca had come as Bryce’s plus one, the surgeon wanting to spend as much time as possible with her while she was briefly back in town. A lot had changed since she accepted a research fellowship across the pond, an easier departure for her since Edenbrook had to make staffing cuts because of a budget shortfall. Becca consciously made the choice to leave the comfort she came to know for an opportunity of a lifetime and subsequently save another person's job.

She hadn’t seen or spoken to Ethan Ramsey since she accepted a research fellowship. That was two years ago.

Becca walked into the evening garden party on Bryce’s arm, her petite diamond still shining under the fairy lights. The moment Aurora saw the pair, Becca immediately let go and jogged over to her friend enveloping her in a hug. The two girls had kept in touch over the last few years, even setting up a free movement research programme between their two hospitals.

“What, no hug for me? I thought you loved me,” Bryce pouted at his two friends.

The women chuckled and opened their arms letting him into the group hug.

“That’s what I’m talking about. I miss being surrounded by beautiful women.” Ever since Becca left and residency ended last year the usual gang of doctors had spread out all over the globe, leaving Bryce with just one ally at Edenbrook - Elijah.

One of the attendings waved Bryce over, leaving the two diagnosticians to talk.

“How was your flight?”

“Not bad. I’m not jet-lagged at all if I’m honest. Bryce is making sure I don’t pass out any time soon though,” she chuckled before quickly changing the topic, “I can’t believe Dr. Emery’s getting married.”

Aurora looked directly into Becca’s eyes and said, “Believe me I never thought I’d see the day.” Harper Emery, like all Emery’s, was completely career orientated. Her career had been her longest and only love for as long as Aurora could remember. That’s why when she announced her engagement to the family they all thought it was an April Fools joke. “I’m happy she’s happy.”

“Me too. Anyone special in your life?” Becca wiggled her eyebrows.

“Definitely not. I’ll settle down when I’m retired.”

There was a call for all family members to gather on the balcony for a photo with the happy couple. Aurora gave her friend and sorry smile as she departed.

Becca timidly made her way over to the bar to grab a glass of champagne. She looked up at the stars shining in the sky and carefully took in her surroundings. She wondered if her own wedding would be as grand and glamorous as this reception. As if thinking the thoughts of her future while in Boston was a charm that summoned ghosts of her past, she heard a gruff clear of a throat from behind her.

His velvety baritone voice cooed, “Dr. Lao.”

She couldn’t help the smirk that perked at her lips when she heard her name on his tongue - it was a Pavlovian response.

Rebecca Lao turned around to see Ethan Ramsey apprehensively standing a few feet away, dressed head to toe in his trusty black tux.

“Dr. Ramsey,” she uttered back.

In a space of over 300 people they still had such a hold over one another - for time stood still and Ethan and Becca were the only people permitted to move. In the distance a new song began to play from the orchestra.

Ethan held out his hand, “For old times?”

Without a second thought she took hold and with a small smile agreed, “For old times.”

The pair planted themselves in a corner of the laid out wooden dance floor and away from the commotion of rambunctious party-goers and attention of others who could misconstrue their embrace. Ethan had his hands respectfully on her waist, while she had her right hand draped over his shoulder and left securely on his chest.

They swayed back and forth for a labored moment before either of them spoke.

“Let me see,” Ethan nodded to the jewelry affixed to his chest. For a moment Becca completely forgot about her reality. Hesitantly she lifted her hand and placed it into Ethan’s waiting one. With intrigue and precision he rotated it back and forth, letting the silver diamond catch the light at each angle. “It’s decent,” he nodded in approval.

“Not too shabby,” she agreed, staring at their interlocked hands. “Doesn’t get in the way and not as distracting.”

Becca knew she never wanted to make a show of her relationship status, especially in her line of work where she’s constantly using her hands and needing to pull gloves on and off. Anything bigger than 2 carats was too much in her mind. She mindfully thanked her fiance for once again knowing her and her needs better than she herself did.

“You’ve always been a magpie.” Ethan smirked as he remembered all the times she would get distracted by shiny objects in a shop window, on a screen or even the reflective glare of light.

She rolled her eyes.

“How.. have you been?” they weren’t the words he wanted to say but they were the ones their situation called for. He had no right to demand any personal information from her. Hell, he didn’t even deserve the privilege of her company but here she was in his arms after all this time.

“Busy,” she said with absolutely no humor. “I now know why you preferred a solitary life.”

Ethan’s face fell with the unintentional sting.

He pulled his lips back up and pridefully told her, “I read your book.”

Shock was evident all over Becca’s features. She knew her book was published globally and as an avid reader of all medical journals he was bound to read it. Still, it shook her that after all this time he was still paying attention. “What’d you think? Not as boring as yours, huh.”

“Satisfactory,” she saw a flicker of mischief dance around his irises. “For a first time author.”

Becca began to speak, “How -” at the same time Ethan added, “Wh-”.

She let him continue on with his thought;

The flicker of light was replaced with a dark cloud as he spoke, “Why didn’t you keep in touch?”

Becca’s eyes grew heavy with sadness and she tried to look anywhere but at him. “Ethan…”

He searched her features, using everything he learned about body language from years of doctoring and from knowing her body, for any semblance of an answer.

All he found was guilt and… something else.

She went to remove her hand from his and he squeezed it tighter. Her mouth fell agape and turned her gaze to meet his. Blue mimicked brown, both trying to convey all they wish they had the courage to say. Both wanting to mend all the problems they caused and all the decisions they’ve now come to regret.

The brows above her sorrowful eyes rose, coaxing him to speak.

Looking at the face of the woman he once passionately cared for, the woman who could see right through his facade, Ethan couldn’t form a coherent retort. He couldn’t think of anything he could say that would make up for all the lost time, all the lost moments.

She squeezed his hand, egging him on.

After a harsh inhale Ethan finally relayed the most daunting of words, “Of all the lies I have ever lived, my favorite was you and I.” Finally, after all this time - after all the tears shed he was finally able to say, “I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

It was as if the admission crippled him, his hands fell from her immediately and he took a step back.

Becca closed the gap between them once more and placed her hand over his heart. She stared at his chest, remembering the old blissful feeling of their skin on each other, as she maturely admitted, “We were meant to be in each other's lives but not in that way. I know that now, I’m sorry I kept forcing myself on you.”

“You didn’t force anything.” He shook his head admonishing her words. “I wanted it all, every bit of you.” He placed his hand over her own. His eyes never shifted from her sullen ones that kept themselves fixed on their joined hands. “I’m sorry I wasted all that time lying about my feelings for you. I completely failed you - I know that now.”

She balled her fist up against him. “Ethan…”

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad,” he said with recognition for the most impressive person he has ever met and will ever meet.

________________________________________

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#fast fic #requests #open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #choices oph2 #oph2 #aurora emery #bryce lahela #oph #oph ff #ff

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a-dorin · 4 years

Text

first meeting - kylo ren

word count: 3,482

warnings: language, sexual tension, some innuendos

this is just a little something that i wrote over winter break, after seeing the rise of skywalker. it’s the potential of something that is going to be more than one part. i don’t have all of the star wars universe terminology quite yet, so sorry if i got something wrong! hope you guys like it :))

you crouched under a table in your home, sweat beading on your forehead. all you could hear were explosions, screaming, and the sounds of the blasters as the storm troopers fired them. the explosions made your home shudder, groaning as your ceiling fell to the ground in pieces.

fear and adrenaline overwhelmed you, coursing through your veins. the troopers had already taken most of your neighbors. who knew if you were next. you had no idea why they were here. why they were attacking your beloved city. why they were taking your friends and neighbors, killing them so swiftly. it made no sense to you; why there were all of these casualties for a pointless war.

however, the dark side had been battling with the light for eons. ever since you could remember, you heard stories and tales of the ongoing war. much of your town was in favor of the new first order, which made you question the attack further.

however, your main focus was to get out alive. it didn’t matter the cost. you needed to survive.

suddenly, your door was flung open. you could hear the shouts of the troopers, their boots echoing in your home. you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for a quick death.

yet, there was only the sound of one pair of thick boots on your floor. they stopped in front of you, your eyes remaining closed. who knew what was in front of you. rather, who was standing in front of you. did they have a gun? a blaster?

“i am not here to hurt you,” the voice was deep, thick with authority, “you are to come with me.”

snapping your eyes open, your breath hitched in your throat. standing in front of you was none other than supreme leader himself, kylo ren.

he towered over you, his built frame covered in dark gear and robes. his robe billowed from behind him, swaying gently as wind entered the space through the open door. his mask, once intact, was scored with red marks. you assumed it was broken, then welded together once more. you swallowed, unsure of his next move. you could see the lightsaber hanging on his hip. you shivered, realizing how many lives he’d taken with that single weapon. yours could be next.

“you’re going to t-take me?” your voice trembled with fear.

kylo did not move, “yes. you are to come with me. i am not going to harm you.”

“do you promise?” you suddenly felt very small as you crept out from underneath the table.

“you have my word,” the supreme leader responded, “come. my men will escort you.”

“w-why are you taking me?” you stuttered, the adrenaline wearing off. now, shock overwhelmed you, along with confusion.

“we will inform you later,” kylo marched ahead of you. he stopped, motioning for troopers, “escort the girl to the ship. if she is harmed, i will have you all executed. do you understand?”

“yes supreme leader,” the troopers echoed back, forming a protective barrier around you.

“s-supreme leader,” you began, your voice small.

he turned, “yes?”

“my droid is missing,” you could feel his eyes boring into you, “he went to help the others. he’s a small one. he hasn’t returned. i need him, he’s my companion.”

“find the droid,” kylo ordered to a pair of troopers, “if you do not find him, intact, both of you will die as well. i will just take the girl to the ship myself. the others, search for the droid.”

“yes supreme leader,” the troopers chorused, jogging off to search for your beloved droid.

“thank you,” you murmured.

kylo only grunted. he walked beside you, leading the way to his own small ship, which you assumed lead to the flagship of the first order. kylo got into the ship, awaiting for you to follow him. you realized very quickly that it was meant to be only one seat, and you would have to sit on the supreme leader’s lap.

heat filled your cheeks, your face burning a bright red. kylo huffed, “don’t act like a juvenile about this. it’s for a few seconds.”

“s-sorry,” you felt like such an idiot for stumbling over your words. you climbed into the ship, settling yourself onto the supreme leader’s open lap.

kylo ren started the pod, and you sat patiently on his lap as it ascended towards the ominous black ship in the atmosphere. you swallowed, feeling a cold sweat form.

to say you were terrified was an understatement. you had no idea where you going, when you would be able to go back home, if ever. there was a large possibility that the first order would wipe out the planet entirely. you bit your lip, taking in the sight of the ground beneath you. there was an odd beauty as fire engulfed your town. it was winter, so the snow glowed a bright orange. it was horrifying yet beautiful.

“calm down,” his voice was quiet, “your thoughts are loud.”

the blush on your cheeks only burned brighter, “sorry.”

“stop apologizing,” kylo rumbled, “once we get on board, i will assign two guards for you at all times. from there, they will escort you to your designated quarters. after my briefing with general hux, i will explain everything to you myself. are we clear, (y/n) (l/n)?”

“crystal,” you mumbled.

even though kylo ren had his mask on, you could feel his eyes staring into you as you gazed in awe at the massive flagship. he approached a loading dock, and landed softly. the pod opened, and kylo gently placed a gloved hand on the small of your back. you flinched, recognizing it was his way of informing you to get out.

you stood up from his lap, feeling the dozens of stares from troopers, generals, and other captains. kylo could almost feel your nervous energy, as it was static. he placed his hand on the small of your back once more, and you felt your anxiety subside slightly.

“i see the mission was a success, supreme leader,” general hux boomed.

“indeed,” kylo responded, his tone cold, “i need two troopers at her side at all times. she needs protection.”

“i don’t need protection,” you mumbled. your voice was so low you weren’t sure if the two men in front of you heard it.

“i don’t care,” kylo snarled, “you are extremely important to the first order. i don’t care if you need protection or not, you’re getting it.”

“your orders will be fulfilled,” hux nodded curtly, “i will have our finest soldiers at her side.”

“my time here is done,” kylo announced, “general hux, follow me. we have a briefing to discuss.”

kylo ren stormed off, his boots thudding against the black tile. you glanced down at your boots, unsure of what was to come next. you could almost feel your thoughts buzzing in your mind. why did the supreme leader of the first order spare your life? why did you need protection? where was your droid?

general hux motioned for two troopers to step forward. you could tell that the two were higher ranked, as they were donned in shiny, silver, armor, “these are your guards, ms. (l/n). they are trained assassins under our best leaders. i hope you never feel as if you’re in danger, as we are here to protect you.”

“such a big hooplah over a civilian,” you rolled your eyes.

general hux raised a brow, but kept his cool composure, “you sure have a pleasant attitude, don’t you? escort her to her quarters. the supreme leader will be with her shortly.”

he turned, walking away towards a gate. a trooper stepped forward, a red band on his right bicep, “i am yo-988, but i am known as phoenix.”

“and i am yw-382, also referred to as bubba,” the other chipped in, donned with a red cape.

“so ‘yo’ and you’re welcome?” you stifled a giggled.

“i knew she’d fucking say that,” phoenix sighed, “listen, i hope you realize that we’re not going to harm you, or run super painful experiments on you.”

“you’re actually really important to the supreme leader,” bubba nodded, “that’s why we have blasters on us at all times. who knows what kind of dipshit could come in and try to kill you.”

“you guys are scaring me more,” you huffed, pouting slightly.

“don’t be worried,” phoenix reassured you, his voice calm, “let’s get you to your quarters before the supreme leader throws a temper tantrum.”

“you guys can talk about him like that?” you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

bubba chuckled, “we’re his best shooters. we can say whatever the fuck we want.”

“he’s kind of intimidating,” you mumbled, following your escorts.

a part of you felt safer as phoenix and bubba escorted you to your quarters. having two friendly soldiers as your guards eased your anxiety. they were obviously close friends, as they cracked jokes about one another to make you laugh. you could tell they were younger, just by the way they talked. another part of you wondered how old they both were, and how long they had been working under the first order. had they been originally resistance turned evil? did they truly know why there was a war?

as you continued walking, you couldn’t help but notice how oddly beautiful the first order ship was. it was so much more sleek than the ships you had seen in your life. the floor was a black marble tile, the walls a space grey. the corridors were full of white troopers. captains, admirals, medics, and engineers buzzed around, busy with tasks. everything was just so organized and neat. you couldn’t help but gaze around in awe.

“m’lady,” phoenix cleared his throat, we have arrived at your quarters. now, if you need anything, feel free to holler. bubba and i will be outside, guarding the door. once kylo ren arrives from his briefing however, we will be dismissed for dinner.”

bubba opened the door for you, and you let out a gasp. the room designated as your quarters was absolutely beautiful. the walls were a black, matching the marble floor. your bed was large, almost too big. there was a fully operable kitchenette, complete with a small, cozy nook. the nook was inside a wall, as shelves surrounded it. however, the aspect that took your breath away was the view. your room possessed viewports, with a full view of the galaxy and planets surrounding the ship.

“this is mine?” you breathed, stepping several feet into the room.

“it is,” bubba confirmed, “the supreme leader requested this room for you specifically.”

“is he in love with me or something?” you turned, raising a brow.

“everyone falls in love with you at first sight darlin’,” phoenix flirted, “you’re just a beautiful woman, and that personality of yours is very charm-.”

“i see you’ve found your quarters due to your guards’ help,” kylo’s voice rang through the room. he stood at the door, his aura full of irritation.

“we fulfilled the assignment sir,” bubba’s tone was courteous.

“good,” kylo was cold, “yo-988, and yw-382, both of you are dismissed.”

“yes, supreme leader,” bubba and phoenix saluted kylo, then marched out of the room. once they were gone, kylo waved his hand at the doors, closing them. you shivered, feeling the room grow colder.

“you can sit on your bed, (y/n),” kylo’s tone was softer, “or do i frighten you?”

“you don’t,” you responded.

then why are you so tense? kylo’s voice rang through your thoughts, making you freeze.

“how can you do that?” you demanded.

“i have been trained,” he responded, “please, sit.”

“take off that mask,” you snorted, “then maybe i will.”

kylo sighed, and placed his hands under his mask. he pulled it off, setting it on a desk beside him. once you got a good look at him, your breathing hitched in your throat.

kylo ren was extremely handsome, with a pale complexion, thick black hair, and rich brown eyes. his skin had red undertones, and they were apparent as he looked at you. his jawline was prominent, and a thick scar ran down a side of his face. he looked no older than twenty-five.

“were you expecting someone older?” his voice was deep, but slightly higher without the mask.

“honestly,” you murmured, “a little bit. maybe a man in his later thirties, early forties.”

you couldn’t help but feel drawn towards him as you both stood there, gazing at one another. you took a few steps closer to him, reaching to touch his cheek. he complied, allowing you to cup your right hand on his face. your thumb traced his cheekbone, and his eyes searched yours.

“supreme leader,” you began.

“kylo,” he cut you off, “you’re allowed to call me kylo.”

“am i the only one?” biting your lip, you couldn’t help but ask the question. this special treatment was making you wonder his true intentions. along with the fact that you had so many other questions. you wanted to ask questions but you knew you needed answers.

“yes,” he answered, “you’re the only one who can call me kylo. the others, it’s kylo ren, supreme leader, or supreme leader kylo ren.”

“why am i here?” the question tumbled out of your mouth.

“many reasons,” kylo replied, taking your hand off his cheek. he walked towards the viewport, facing the outside.

“can you at least tell me one?” your voice was soft.

“i had a vision,” kylo admitted, his reflection gazing at you, “it was an extremely vivid vision.”

“so you kidnapped me because you had a vision?” you couldn’t help but pry. you were finally gaining some answers.

“we are destined to rule together,” kylo stated, his tone cool, “(y/n), you may not realize it, but you are very important. you have some abilities that enable you to utilize the force. there is another girl, a plain scavenger. however, she is not tied to the first order like you. i feel such a stronger connection with you. i knew once i had my vision, that it was imperative that i find you.”

you swallowed, “is that why i dreamt of you the other night?”

that was in fact true. a few nights ago, before the attack on your town, you had a dream about the supreme leader. you didn’t know his face, but it was a dream foretelling your encounter. you suddenly realized that you dreamt about it the other night.

“i may have crept into your thoughts that night,” kylo admitted. you could tell he was slightly embarrassed, “i wanted you to have an idea of me in your mind.”

“that’s a sure fire way to get with a lady,” you joked, rolling your eyes playfully.

in the viewport, you could see kylo’s lips curve into a smile, “it worked.”

“i am shocked,” you teased, “the supreme leader, the man who is feared by all, has a sense of humor.”

“i am human,” kylo scoffed, “however, this temperament is only around you. i have an image to uphold. i need the others to fear me.”

“they do,” you nodded, “they really do.”

“if general hux, yo-988, or yw-382 ever get out of line,” kylo began, “i need to know. immediately.”

“oh come on,” you groaned, “phoenix was just flirting, kylo. it was innocent.”

“i don’t want every man flirting with you. in fact, i don’t want any man on this ship, or woman, flirting with you,” kylo was solemn, “they are aware of what will happen if they do not obey my orders.”

“i will be fine,” you sat on your bed, “besides, it’s not like i’m some princess or anything.”

he started to walk towards your doors, “you don’t understand. if anything happens to you, i don’t know what i would do.”

“we just met.” you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by all of the information that was just thrown at you. all you wanted was to just be by yourself for a moment.

“and we have a connection,” kylo retorted, his eyes ablaze, “and it’s stronger than i thought.”

“oh come on, spare me that bullshit-“

“no, you feel it too,” he retaliated, “when i came across you, i couldn’t help but know that we have a bond that nothing in this universe can break. if you really didn’t want this, you would have resisted.”

“kylo,” you began, feeling tears brim your eyes, “i just don’t know what to do or how to feel with all of this new information. this isn’t my home. you destroyed my home. how am i really supposed to feel right now? i don’t even have the one thing that’s closest to me right now.”

kylo sensed the shift in your emotion, his facial features softening. he ran a hand through his hair, feeling sympathy for you. he understood your anger, your hurt. you had your home ripped away from you, and you had no idea how to cope.

“i am going to check on the status of your droid,” kylo murmured, “alert yo-988 or yw-382 if you need anything. i will report back promptly.”

he picked up his mask, sliding it over his face. you felt a slight flash of sadness, as you didn’t get a chance to memorize his face before it was gone. the only sound made was the thud of his boots against the floor as he exited the room. some words were exchanged between him and your guards, as you sat on your bed, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“(y/n)?” phoenix coughed, knocking on the doors, “we just got word. we found your droid.”

immediately, you sat up on your bed, “bring him to me, please!”

“i will have a captain bring him to you,” phoenix responded, radioing who you assumed to be a captain.

as you waited for your droid, you could feel hope wash over you. you didn’t care about your home, as long as you had your droid, jet. he was a small one, with one wheel and a cone shaped head, paired with a large attitude. you were sure he was just as frightened as you were.

getting out of the bed, you waiting patiently beside bubba and phoenix, awaiting the arrival of jet. boots thudded in the hallway, and you recognized them immediately. kylo ren emerged from the corridor, jet trailing after him.

“jet!” you cried, opening your arms. once jet realized you were there, he sped past kylo, embracing you with his body.

“she can speak droid?” bubba chuckled.

jet whistled at bubba angrily. you laughed, “they’re my body guards. we get special treatment on this ship. did any of those troopers handle you roughly?”

jet shook his head no, “no.”

“did that bad, mean, man over there give you any trouble?” you cooed, fixing jet’s antennae.

don’t make me punish you. kylo’s voice rang through your head. you swallowed, blushing slightly.

and no, i am not joking. you could almost see kylo smirking underneath his mask. he knew you were starting to become flustered.

“it’s getting late,” phoenix stated, “and you’ve have a long day, ms. (l/n). tomorrow, the supreme leader wishes to have a meal with you, at first sunlight.”

“at first sunlight?” you glanced up at kylo, who was watching over you and jet.

“sunrise,” bubba repeated, “that is when we are going to be relieved for our duties until noon. we have to sleep too ya know.”

“do not speak to her-“ kylo began, his voice menacingly quiet.

“they have a right to joke with me,” you retorted, “they are stationed with me practically twenty-four seven, because of your orders. now, i am going to go into my quarters, where i am going to catch up with my droid. goodnight,

phoenix, and goodnight bubba.”

“goodnight, (y/n),” bubba and phoenix chorused back, happy to be called by their nicknames.

without saying a goodnight to kylo, you whisked jet into your arms, slamming the doors shut behind you. it was about midnight, approximately four hours since you had been kidnapped. well, not kidnapped. more like taken against your will, but it’s not like you had a choice.

kylo was right. you two had a bond that was extremely strong. even though you were mad at him for being so rude to bubba, you wanted nothing more to see his face again.

with jet on the edge of your bed, you stared at the ceiling, thinking about kylo. who knew the secrets you’d find out tomorrow. maybe if you were lucky, the two of you would spend time alone, where you’d see his more vulnerable side.

i forgot to tell you, you heard kylo in your thoughts, his deep voice soothing. you’re extremely beautiful, (y/n). sleep well.

you fell asleep, with a small smile on your face.

#kylo ren #the rise of skywalker #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars uni #kylo ren fluff #kylo ren smut #kylo

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lightupmyass · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: smut, slight fluff, pwp

Warnings: EXTREME DIRTY TALK, LIKE JUST STRAIGHT FUCKING SIN, unprotected sex, Daddy! Hoseok, Sub! Reader, slight public sex, mentions of exhibitionism, rough fucking, aftercare

Word count: 3037

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry that there's not much plot but uh, I've recently gotten into Yagami Yato's audios soooo um, I needed to write something with dirty talk. Its not nearly as good but I hope you enjoy!

“What’s the matter, baby? Can't keep yourself under control?” Hoseok whispers in your ear, your thighs rubbing together under the blanket. It was difficult, keeping quiet right now. It was movie night in the dorm and Hoseok was right next to you, doing anything to get you riled up while surrounded by the boys. The TV was loud, drowning out Hoseok's words from anyone else but you. “Hobi, please stop.” You tell him, getting embarrassed. Luckily you’re sitting at the end of the couch, Hoseok next to you while Yoongi sits next to him, Jimin on the other end. “Why? Don’t you like it when I do this? Make you lose control just by talking in your ear?” You bite back a little gasp, your chest heaving. The movie has barely even started and he’s already got you wrecked.

“Don’t you like it when I tell you how good you look? How much I wanna lay you down and make you feel so good? What do you want me to do, baby?” A wave of heat rushes through you as different pictures flash through your mind, all of the ways he has, and will, made you go absolutely insane. You can’t speak, too afraid that someone will hear you and your squeaky, embarrassed voice, so you shake your head. “Hm? Not gonna talk? Well then, wanna hear everything I wanna do to you?” The end of his sentence is breathy, a low growl hidden deep in his throat as he flips every switch he knows you have. You love it when he talks like this, when he growls in your ear, his hot breath fanning over your neck as absolute sin tumbles from his lips, the moment only shared by the two of you.

“I wanna make you a trembling, quaking mess for me. Wanna reach each and every inch inside of you until you lose your mind. Feel your tight pussy quiver around me while I remind you who you belong to. Do you want that, baby? Want me to fuck you so good that you can’t even remember your own name?” He asks, his lips trailing across your neck, making you shiver. You bite your lip as you snake your hand between your thighs, needing some sort of friction. “You want me to pound my cock so deep inside of you that you see stars? Make you cry out for me? Make sure everyone here can know how good I can make you feel?” Fuck, he’s getting to you. Your breathing gets shorter as your eyelids droop, his words hypnotizing. “Please.” You whisper, earning a smirk from him. “Oh? Is my baby losing control already?” He asks, pressing his lips to your neck. “You’re not very subtle, you know. That hand down there isn’t gonna help as much as I can.” He whispers, his hand resting on top of yours, the size difference tantalizing. You know how good he is with his hands, how he can move them to curl against all the right spots, how he can fuck you so hard with his fingers that you almost pass out. He’s done it multiple times before, loving the power and control he has over you. Its addicting to him, about as addicting as you are.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, taking your hand away, but his stays, resting on your core. “Someone’s getting eager, huh? Let’s take a look and see how soaked you are already.” He says as he pulls your shorts and panties to the side, his fingers immediately getting covered in your slick, your pussy trembling under his light touch. “Mm, that’s what I like to feel, babygirl. Fucking soaked just from my voice. And all these people around? Tsk tsk, my naughty, naughty girl. I bet you’d cum right here if you could, right? Let everyone sit around while you lose control over yourself.” His finger starts to run along your slit, dipping into your hole. Fuck, is he really going to do this? Your body moves on your own as you spread your legs more for him, letting him gently sink his finger into you. “Yeah, that’s my good girl, letting me do whatever I want. So perfect, baby.” He smirks, slowly fucking you with his finger, his palm rubbing your clit in slow circles. You bite your finger, trying to keep your composure as he tries his best to break it. “You know, as much as I love teasing you and making you feel embarrassed, I don’t think I want you cumming around the boys. They might think they can have a piece of you too. Go into my room and wait for me, ok?” He tells you, pulling his finger out of you and wiping your juices on your shorts. What a tease.

However, you do as he says, making some dumb excuse about using the bathroom or something before disappearing down the hallway, straight to Hoseok’s room. Its not long before he shows up. Honestly, you’re sure he followed right behind you, because as soon as you cross the threshold his hand is on your ass, giving it a light pat before he locks the door behind him, hunger and lost swimming in his dark eyes. “Fuck, baby. Don’t you look fucking delicious.” He growls, his lips instantly on yours as he cups your cheeks, walking you backwards until your knees hit the bed, both of you tumbling down on the mattress. “You gotta stop talking like that around people though, Hobi. Its so embarrassing to be like that around the others.” You pout, blushing. “Is that so? I embarrassed you? Well you didn’t seem too embarrassed when you let me put my finger in you, now did you?” He growls, lips moving to your neck as he bites down gently on your skin, your back arching so your chest presses up against his. You whimper in response, knowing he’s right. Of course he’s right, he knows you like the back of his own hand.

“How did my good little girl become so bad, huh? Getting fucking soaked even though there’s so many people around. How about we assess the damage, huh?” He asks, climbing down off the bed and hooking his fingers into your shorts and panties, pulling them down easily. A string of slick attaches to your panties, stretching further as he pulls them down, a deep moan rumbling in his throat. “Fuck, baby. Look at how messy you got with just me talking to you.” He says, sitting back on his feet as he runs a finger through the wetness of your panties. “Maybe I need to keep doing it, huh? I knew you liked dirty talk but fuck, looks like you almost came from it. My dirty, dirty girl.” He smiles, laying down on the bed and pulling you on top of him, his thigh right between your legs. “How’s this, baby girl? Think you can cum on my leg while I talk to you, hm? Ride my thigh while I tell you how beautiful you are and how badly I’m gonna fucking wreck you?” He asks, your hips already moving to grind against his jeans, making you whimper. “Good girl. Good fucking girl, rubbing your soaked cunt all over my jeans. Gonna leave a stain on em, huh? Make my leg all nice and shiny from your wet, tight pussy?” Jesus Christ he is not going easy on you at all.

He grabs your hips, moving you against him as he moves his own hips, his covered cock pressing against your thigh as you grind on him, your head already feeling dizzy at the feeling of his jeans on your bare pussy. “Fuck, Hobi.” You moan, your face falling down onto his shoulder as you move with him. “Oh, baby. No one’s around, you know you can call me my name now, right? Come on, I wanna hear you say it. Say it, babygirl. Say my name.” He moans in your ear. “Ah, Daddy, fuck!” You squeak, his hand coming down to lightly slap your ass. “Good job, baby. I love when you call me that, you’re such a good girl for Daddy. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you think?” He pushes you off gently, laying you down on the bed, your head on the pillows as he kisses down your body, leaving little love bites here and there as he puts your legs over his shoulders, wasting no time as he puts his whole mouth right on you, groaning as he takes in your essence, tasting your sweet juices on his tongue and moaning into you. “Fuck, baby. Almost forgot how good you taste. Best meal I'll ever fucking have in my life.” He groans, dipping down lap up whatever you give him, small moans falling from your lips as he devours you, moaning and groaning and growling into you as he holds your legs tight, keeping them wrapped closely around his face.

“Mmmm, fuck, fuck, Daddy, please, ah~!” You moan, your fingers finding purchase in his hair. “Mm, gonna cum, baby girl? Gonna be a good girl and cum all over Daddy’s face? Come on, baby, give me all you’ve got.” He says, diving back down and going faster, moving and slurping and tongue fucking you, the lewd noises of him sucking up all of your slick echoing through the quiet room. Your back arches, your hips moving as you grind against his mouth, your fingers pushing his face into you more, his groans getting louder and deeper the closer you get. “Mm! Ooh, ooh, ooooh fuck Daddy! I’m, Immg-onna-" You gasp as it washes over you, a white hot wave of fire bringing through your body as he continues to eat you out, lapping up every last bit of your cum as he chuckles into your pussy, making is tremble at slight overstimulation.

“Sh, you’re okay, baby. That’s my good girl. Such a good girl for me.” He says softly, rubbing your tummy as he kisses your thighs. Your breathing slows down a bit, your body relaxing after your incredible high as he climbs on top of you, kissing your neck and collar bone as his hand slips up your shirt, gently rubbing your skin. You laugh a little, mumbling a small ‘fuck' as he kisses your cheek. “You good, baby?” He asks, stroking your skin gently with his thumb. You nod, smiling in complete euphoria. “Good. Such a good girl. My beautiful, good girl. My sweet, sexy, amazing baby girl.” He cooes, showering you in kisses and compliments.

He rests his body on top of your as he presses his lips to yours, taking your breath away as you hum into his mouth, your arms wrapping around his neck. He nuzzles his hips between your legs, pulling your leg over his hip as he gently grinds you into the mattress. “Mm, love you like this. So fucked out already, yet craving for more. Do you want more, princess? You want me to make you lose control?” He asks, moving your hair out of your face. You nod, pulling him down for another kiss. “Say it, baby. I want you to say it. No, I want you to beg for it.” He growls, grinding hard against you. “Ah~! Fuck, Daddy. Please, I need you. Please please please.” You whine, your head falling back into pillows as he kisses your neck. “Mm, good job, but I need more than that. Beg me more. I know you can do better than that.” He growls. “Daddy, please, please I need you so fucking bad. I-I want you to fuck me, want you to fuck me so hard, need your cock to fill me up. Please Daddy. Please fuck me.” You beg, hoping that’ll be enough.

“Mm, fuck yeah, baby. Shit.” He groans, sitting up to undo his pants, pulling them down just enough for his cock to spring free, slapping against his shirt before he grips it, tracing it over your pussy, your walls clenching around nothing in excitement. “You ready, baby?” He asks. You nod, smiling. “I’m always ready to take your cock, Daddy.” You tell him, a deep growl sounding from him. “Shit, Baby. Love when you talk dirty. It doesn’t suit you, but yet, it does. Sounds so pretty and filthy on your lips.” He chuckles, getting cut off by a groan as he pushes into you, bottoming out as he feels your tight walls grip him. “Aaaahhhh, fuck. Oooh shit baby girl. Feel so fucking gooood.” He groans, his voice shaky as he keeps himself still inside of you. You can’t even talk, the way his thick cock stretched you out so well.

You wanted him to move, wanted him to fuck you, just like you begged him to, so you moved your hips, squeezing your pussy around him. “Please, move Daddy. Come on. Please?” You ask nicely, giving him puppy dog eyes as you squeeze him tight. “Mmph, shit. You want me to fuck you? Huh?” He asks, starting to move his hips. “You want me to fuck you hard?” He says, his pace quickening fast. “Mm, yes. Please.” You whine, grabbing his shoulder as he starts fucking into you, the sound of skin slapping already sounding through the room by the force of his thrusts. “Fuck yeah, baby. Gonna fuck you so good. God you feel so good, so fucking good.” He groans, your body bouncing as you get fucked into the mattress. The feeling of his hot shaft dragging across your walls, his tip hitting that sweet spot in you when he grabs your leg, putting it up on his shoulder, making him hit all new depths in you. You moan and whine, his groans and curses turning you on even more.

“Mmph, shit baby. Don’t know how I can last a minute without my cock stuffing your pussy. It was fucking made for me. A perfect pussy for a perfect girl. My perfect girl. Ah, fuck.” He groans, pressing kisses to your calf as he fucks you hard, the bed shaking. “Daddy~! Yes Daddy! Love your cock. Love you. Love you so much!” You cry out, making him smile. “So cute, Y/N. I love you too. I love you so much, my sweet baby girl.” He whispers, leaning down to kiss you. “Come on, baby. Gonna switch it up.” He says, pulling out of you and letting your leg fall onto the bed. You whine loudly at the loss of him inside of you. “Come here, princess.” He says, standing next to the bed. “Come bend over for Daddy.” Your breath hitches. One of your favorite positions. You move quickly, eager to do what he says, knowing you’re about to get everything you want.

You stand right in front of him, your ass brushing against his rock hard cock, bending over the side of his bed as you wiggle your hips. “Mm, that’s what I like to see. Such a good little girl, so beautiful and desperate to be stuffed full of my cock. Get ready, baby girl.” He says, warning you before he pushes into you again, making you stand on your tippy toes as you relax onto the bed, your face pressed against the mattress. “Ooh fuck yeah. So fucking good yeah so fucking good baby.” He groans, immediately pounding into you. You moan, cry out in pleasure, your sounds muffled by the bed. “Whose my good girl? Whose a slut for Daddy's cock? Huh?” He asks. “Ah! Me Daddy! Fucking love your cock!” You cry out, gasping as he rams into your sweet spot. “Yeah you fucking do, you fucking love it. And I love you tight fucking pussy. So fucking good baby. Gonna make me cum. Where do you want me to cum, baby?” He asks. You know exactly where. Its going to make him fucking feral. “I-Inside me. Want you to cum inside me, Daddy. Make me a fucking mess, please.” You beg. “Oohoho, fucking shit Y/N, you filthy fucking girl. Want me to cum inside you? Want to cum so deep inside you you’ll have my cum dripping out of you?” He growls, fucking you so hard the bed bounces against the wall. “Mmm yes Daddy. Want your cum so bad." You whine, your high rapidly approaching. “Fuck yeah, baby. Ah, squeezing me so tight. Come on, baby, I can feel it. Cum on my cock, baby, cream on my fucking cock and I'll cum deep inside that fucking perfect pussy. Cum for me, baby girl.” He groans loudly, pounding into you so quickly that you’re seeing stars already. “Ah~! Ah~! Fuck fuck fuuuuuuck!” You cry out, your end hitting you hard as you squeeze his cock, convulsing around him. “Ooooh shit! Shit fuck! Aaahhhhh!” Hoseok growls, his hips sputtering as he buries himself deep inside of you, warmth filling you up as he collapses over you, his face resting on your back as he fills you with his cum, fucking it slowly into you as he completely loses it. “Ah, ah fuck, shit Y/N. God I fucking love you. I love you so fucking much.” He says, his voice raspy as he reaches up to hold your hand, pressing soft kisses to your back through your shirt. You don’t move, too worn out to do anything as he pulls out of you, your legs shaky. You hear him zip his pants up, the bed dipping as he sits on the edge. “Come here, baby. Lay down.” He cooes, helping you move so you’re laying with your head on his lap, his fingers brushing through your hair as your eyes droop. “You’re okay, baby. You did such a good job. I’m so proud of you. You feel alright?” He asks softly, his thumb rubbing against your pink cheek. You nod, still not able to really say anything. “Good. So good, baby. My good girl. I love you, Y/N. Don’t ever forget that.” He whispers. “I love you too.” You tell him, kissing his leg. “Now, we’ll rest for a few minutes then get you all cleaned up, okay? I think my girl deserves a nice bubble bath.”

#bts smut #bts #kpop #kpop smut #hobi #hoseok #jung hoseok #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fic #bts hoseok #bts jhope #jhope

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otonymous · 4 years

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Time After Time: Victor’s Firsts (MLQC NSFW Headcanon)

Hey everyone!

Thanks to all who voted in my Twitter poll to see whose NSFW “Firsts” headcanons they wanted to read next. 💕Victor was the undisputed victor (haha!) over Kiro, so I hope you all enjoy my longest headcanons to date...ALL 18 MINUTES OF IT! (these totally got out of hand, for whatever reason LOL) 😵😆

Warning: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language - reader discretion is advised.

Naughtiness ensues after the cut!

A Time To Learn: Your Relationship With Victor:

A battle of wills and wits that gradually blossoms into a relationship founded on mutual trust and admiration, learning and growth

Your relationship with Victor isn't easy, especially at the beginning when you are learning about each other and how to mesh with one another — it will be a hard-won love, but one that’s absolutely worth the payoff in the end

Victor is very logical, pragmatic, stubborn, domineering and - especially at the beginning — overprotective (tends to withhold information from you if he feels it would hurt or harm you in any way). While his intentions come from a good place, it will annoy you to no end to be sheltered like this

But as the relationship progresses and Victor comes to fully understand that you are a grown woman capable of holding her own and making her own decisions, he will gradually cease this type of behaviour

Initially, it will be hard for you to know where you stand because of Victor's reluctance to let his poker face slip and reveal his emotions. But when you finally see him crack a smile, or hear the soft chuckle of his deep laughter followed by a muted exclamation of “dummy” or “idiot,” you’ll feel like you’ve won the lottery, becoming addicted to doing whatever you can to see the corners of those lips tug up when he thinks no one is the wiser

When you first defy him, Victor is pleasantly surprised: he's used to getting his way personally and professionally because his overwhelming presence, business acumen and instinct usually lead him in the right directions, so he has rarely ever encountered opposition. While he is initially taken aback by your bravado, he’ll find your attitude refreshing, amusing even. His cock will too (more on this later) 😆

This is the type of relationship where one person fills in the gaps of the other: you'll soften Victor’s hard edges, temper the manner with which he interacts with others, and make him laugh harder than he ever thought possible. You are the figurative sunshine in his life, the warmth he has been missing for so long.

On the other hand, Victor lends you his unflappable confidence, his expertise and experience, the will to stick to your guns and really fight for the things you want. He is your safe haven, champion and protector.

Talk is cheap for Victor, who prefers to show love and affection by way of action: brewing medicinal soups when you’re sick (with a spoonful of caramel pudding at the ready to chase away the bitter aftertaste), tucking a cozy throw over you when you’ve fallen asleep on the sofa yet again, cooking your favourite foods when he knows you’ve had a rough day, waiting outside your office in the pouring rain to drive you home when he knows you’ve forgotten your umbrella

He also loves to high-key spoil you: whisk you away on his private jet for spontaneous weekend getaways at Lake Como or Bali, beautiful bouquets arranged on your desk Monday mornings at the office just because, an impromptu Champs-Élysées shopping excursion when you mention needing a new winter coat…THAT BLACK CARD THOOOO

Victor is a steadfast lover: reliable, responsible and always, always there when you need him. He is your rock, a solid foundation from which you are emboldened to jump and reach for the stars…forever knowing he will be there to catch you if you fall

He often anticipates your needs, sometimes even before you realize them. And as your relationship progresses, the ways in which he offers help will become less overbearing and more sensitive to your feelings and your right to make an informed decision

Victor is most expressive in the bedroom. For all his emotional reservedness in his everyday life, the passionate nature he keeps buried deep inside is finally given an outlet through sensual pleasures

As with everything else in his life, lovemaking is serious business for Victor. He is an intense lover who wants to be the very best, the one to erase even the tiniest shreds of whoever came before him. He needs to leave his mark on you, physically and emotionally. Even if he wasn’t your first, he’d be damned if he’s not your last.

Ever the epicurean, Victor is the pussy-eating champion. Thoroughly devoted to exploring you orally, the man would go for hours if you’d let him, taking care not to miss a single inch of trembling flesh. Obsessed with numbers, Victor is not satisfied to move on to something else until he’s given you multiple orgasms with his tongue alone.

The man is humming(!) in pleasure as he eats: lips, chin and cheeks shiny with your arousal and his spit. This will be the only time you see Victor with less than impeccable table manners

Victor considers it a point of pride and responsibility to bring you to your climax well before he reaches his own

The man also loves to see you in elegant silks, satins and lace and will surprise you with the most beautiful lingerie

In all honesty though, garter belts, stockings, stilettos and nothing else are this man's jam when he really gets down to business

Needless to say, Victor’s super fit and muscular physique translates to stamina for days...

The First Kiss:

Having spent an exhausting day ironing out the minute details of your proposal with Victor, you slump onto the leather sofa in the corner of his office, meaning to take a 5 minute power nap to recharge while Victor leaves the room for a bathroom break

“The man is a machine…” you think to yourself, stealing a quick glance at your phone before the weight of heavy eyelids finally shepherds you to slumber: 9:15 pm

You are out cold. Dead to the world. You don't even hear the click of the door as it opens, or the soft approach of polished Oxfords when Victor quietly crouches to bring his face level with yours, gazing at your sleeping form, undisguised tenderness completely transforming that stoic visage

Victor is smiling, one large hand curling into a loose fist before it rises to cover his mouth — the side of his index smoothing over his cupid’s bow in an unconscious bid to satisfy the desire for physical contact

Jet black eyes sweep from disheveled hair to the delicate silver chain around your neck, pupils widening as they trace the line of your collarbone upon which the sapphire pendant lay

Then…slowly….as if caught in the pull of some hypnotic tide, Victor moves even closer, Adam’s apple prominent in his throat as he swallows. Paying no heed to the heat gathering beneath an increasingly tight collar, the man continues studying your face, intent on mapping every smooth contour onto his mind for posterity

It is only when he feels the warmth of your breath on his cheek that he stops, breaking out of his trance and mentally chastising himself for almost losing control. For losing himself in the sight of your soft lips parted in slumber

Just when he makes to stand and cover you with his suit jacket, your eyes fly open to lock onto his

Time stops. Lost in the intensity of the gaze, neither of you dare to even breathe, let alone speak, lest the sanctity of the moment is broken

The sheer proximity of Victor Li has you captivated: cedar wood and pine wafting subtle from burning skin, long lashes softening dark eyes that blazed with hunger, lips that trembled ever so slightly with longing until you couldn’t help but become famished for just one taste…

And before you can even make sense of what you’re doing, you've propped yourself up on one elbow, bridging the gap between your lips and his — plush, soft and slightly parted

Victor’s eyes widen for a moment, a thousand different emotions silently brewing inside that busy mind until the slide of your tongue into his mouth blankets the chaos with a quiet calm. Only then does the LFG CEO yield completely to the warmth of your lips and the fire in his soul, eyes closed as he finally allows his body to take what it wants, what it has yearned for since the day you challenged him

And when he gets to this point, Victor's kiss deepens, becoming more and more aggressive until you’re forced to pull back for a bit of air before diving in for a second round

Confession Of Love:

This man is not the type to throw the word “love” around lightly, so when he tells you he loves you, he MEANS IT. It’s not lust. It’s not like. It’s a Ride or Die type of commitment.

Victor Li leaves very little to chance. The first time he tells you he loves you, he will have planned it…WAY in advance

The man knows timing is everything (haha!) and will choose the very special occasion of your birthday to make his confession

He rearranges his work schedule (and yours) for the special day, flying you out to Paris on his private jet

At exactly 1:14 pm, he’ll present you with your gift at the very top of the Eiffel Towel: a ladies’ version of the Patek Philippe timepiece he himself wears

The back will be engraved with both your initials and the numbers 1-3-1-4. You'll start shaking the moment you see it.

1:14 pm, 13:14, 1-3-1-4: all essentially meaning "forever" when pronounced in Chinese

Honestly, it will feel like a proposal and in a sense, it is: once Victor is absolutely certain about someone, he will never let them go. His love is for life.

You are absolutely speechless, hands trembling so hard that Victor has to hold them steady before he slips the watch onto your wrist

Then, after taking a moment to savour the sweetness of having a shared token of love, Victor bends to place a kiss on the back of your hand, the most tender look in his eyes when he finally looks up to say, “I love you. Happy birthday.”

Doesn’t that sound much nicer than "dummy"?! 😆

The First Night

Despite all the impossible deadlines Victor sets for you in the course of your professional collaborations, the man is incredibly patient when it comes to matters of the heart

Until Victor tells you he loves you, he will not have sex with you (much to your horny chagrin)

This is actually specific to you and not his personal code of conduct per se. In the past, the man has had no problems bedding women he’s had, at most, lukewarm feelings for

But YOU are a totally different breed, worlds apart from the starlets and socialites that threw themselves at his feet

Victor is fascinated by your honesty: the frankness of your words, your artless behaviour. Mesmerized by the fact that he can read you like an open book (which is why he is so keen on protecting you from those who would use that to their advantage). Touched by the genuine kindness and consideration that guides much of what you do. Impressed by your tireless spirit in fighting for the people and things you care about

In short, he has never met another person quite like you, especially in the cut-throat world of business and high society where he has learned to excel — a place where poker-faced people keeping their cards close to their chests are the norm and not the exception

Holding out on sex is as painful and torturous to Victor as it likely is to you; the man is incredibly attracted to you, and has been since the day you dared to challenge him to secure funding for your company. Deep down, Victor knows you had him ensnared the moment he saw the fire burning in your eyes (not like he’d ever tell you though LOL)

And each time work brought you before him, the man couldn’t help but notice something new to admire: the way your hair fell in soft wisps — begging to be gently tucked behind the shell of your ear, the captivating flutter of lashes as tired eyes blinked back fatigue, the pleasing lilt of your voice even as you laced your words with sarcasm

It wasn’t long before Victor found his thoughts drifting to you, haunting his nights and sneaking up on him during the day…especially when he was in the shower, eyes closed and moans amplified in the wet heat as his large hand reached down to stroke the length of his cock — imagining your legs wrapped around his waist, your tongue nimble on his shaft

In spite of all this pent-up tension, Victor doesn't rush into sex because he wants things to be done right. You are the most important person in his life and he feels the need to eliminate any possibility of things going wrong

In short, he won’t treat you like the women who came before because there’s absolutely no comparison: no one has ever made him feel the way you do

That being said, it doesn’t mean you and Victor won't get up to some extreme heavy-petting: grinding on his lap in his Bugatti, palming him through his dress pants at the office, a hand slipped beneath your skirt when you’re bent over wiping kitchen counters at Souvenir as payment for your meal

So when Victor gives you the ultimate birthday gift of finally telling you he loves you, the two of you are hightailing it back to your penthouse suite at the grandest hotel in Paris, bodies already flush against each other and kissing as the French do in the privacy of an ascending elevator

BUT Victor is the king of deliciously unhurried love making. It is his preferred modus operandi. After all, the man really knows how to enjoy the finer things in life: food, wine, your body and every single reaction of bliss that can be teased out of it.

You can bet that Victor will fuck you nice and slow and thoroughly.

PREPARE TO BE PAMPERED LIKE A QUEEN

Strains of Duke Ellington & John Coltrane's “In a Sentimental Mood” are being piped through built-in speakers as Victor approaches you from behind, notes of pine and cedar accompanying the heat of his body, wafting in gentle waves to make the fine hairs of your skin stand on anticipatory end

And as you watch the sun kiss the horizon through a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows — orange rays setting the Eiffel Tower ablaze in a sea of luminous fire — fingertips are trailing up your bare arms, Victor gently gathering your hair to sweep it over one shoulder before pressing his lips to the nape of your neck, eyes closed and inhaling deep, trying to hold on to the subtle sweetness of your skin

His hands, incredibly dextrous despite their size, easily tease apart the knot of your halter dress and you tremble under the intensity of his gaze over your shoulder as they watch satin trace every curve — your dress dropping to pool on cool marble at your feet

There is something especially exquisite about seeing the City of Light laid out before you as you’re slowly laid bare by Victor. And just when you start to blush at standing stark naked before the fully clothed CEO, he places your hands on his chest, seductive command permeating that deep voice when he says, “Undress me.”

Sliding your palms over the broad expanse of his pecs, you palpate the rhythm of his heart, caress the lines of hard muscle beneath that perfectly starched dress shirt

By the time your fingers are unbuttoning his collar, his Adam's apple is already bobbing in his throat, the deep breaths he’s drawing to rein in desire amplifying the rise and fall of his chest

When the last button is undone, the sight of Victor’s gloriously perfect torso erodes the last of your frayed patience and you’re practically tearing the shirt off his muscular arms, wrestling with his belt. And although you are dying inside from your lack of finesse, Victor is secretly thrilled that you want him that badly. Full marks 😆

Finally….finally….that beautiful body is revealed in all its glory: sculpted from innumerable laps in his olympic sized pool and so genetically blessed below the belt that your mouth is watering at the sight

BUT FIRST, a bath! Blue balls be damned, Victor Li will enjoy this moment to its fullest. He knows that a slow seduction can build up to the most explosive sex. Clearly.

The man will absolutely insist on bathing you, don't even try to fight it. He gets an acute sense of satisfaction from taking care of you in every sense of the word. Also, there’s nothing quite like the slippery slide of his hands all over your body

Step into the marble infinity tub and lay back against his broad chest. Soak in the warm waters as you take in the view of the city around you, the peony-scented candles, the white-petaled orchids…all meticulously planned by the man soaping you from behind, gentle hands exploring

Lose yourself in his touch: fingertips trailing after bubbles that glide over the swell of your breasts, large hands submerging to wrap around your waist until they cross at the navel, moving down to rub languid circles between your legs until you tremble — Victor’s lips finding yours when your head falls back against his shoulder in bliss

And when you reach behind to feel him - long, hot and hard - his soft groans will drive you to the precipice of madness until you’ve got him sitting on the edge of the tub: face a mask of ecstasy to feel your lips on him, your greedy mouth never seeming to get enough of his delicious flesh

Best believe that Victor almost has a heart attack when you let him slip from your mouth when he begins to twitch, observing him with innocence in your eyes as you pump him to completion, teasing the tip of his cock with your hardened nipples while he coats your chest in his release

The man is DONE when you finally look down at your breasts as if surprised, gathering up his cum with the tip of your index and bringing it to your lips for a taste, coy smile blooming all the while on your face

Jaw tightens. Cock hardens. And suddenly the world around you slows to a stand-still as you’re lifted so quickly you barely have time to think before his hands are coaxing your legs around his trim waist, your body wet and slippery against Victor’s as he carries you to the bedroom

Laying you upon the king-sized bed, Victor’s lips seek the heat between your thighs — lapping fast, tasting slow, drawing out slick pleasure to coat his tongue and wrench his name from somewhere deep in your throat

Nothing gets Victor Li hotter, faster, than the sound of your voice, desperate and needy for him. The man is addicted to it. You can bet he won’t be emerging from between your legs until his cheeks and chin are so shiny it’s obscene, and you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve convulsed against his fingers and tongue, orgasms bleeding one into the other like sweetly turbulent waves

And when he finally rises — your flavour faint on his tongue as his lips find yours — he’ll swallow your moans as he finally pushes into you: gradual, gentle, savouring every searing twitch of muscle adjusting to the welcome intrusion of his long, thick heat

Hips moving fast, swaying slow…pelvis grinding in circles to hit your clit because he can’t get enough of the way you shudder against him, or the sting of your teeth sinking into the flesh of his shoulders (mark him up, Victor LOVES it)

EDGING: Victor will hit that spot with expert precision over and over again till you’re on the verge of exploding…only to pull away, rhythm slowing to a grind to leave you hyperventilating and dizzy with need as this torturous pattern repeats

When he finally lets you (and himself) come, you are a sweaty, screaming mess, nails scratching to leave crimson welts on Victor’s back that will make the man smile to see in the mirror the following morning

Victor likes to remain buried deep within you for a bit after his release, holding you in his arms as he peppers you with kisses: on your lips, cheeks, forehead and eyelids

Afterwards, you can bet that the CEO will have a full spread delivered to the suite, where the two of you will spend the rest of the evening feeding each other in bed in between rounds of passionate lovemaking. Remember? Victor has stamina for DAAAAAYYYYYSSS and has to make up for lost time 😂

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