#*cough cough* and they both involve Spike of course *cough cough*

[spikes-got-anger-issues]

#again I've only watched chunks but from what I've seen and heard amongst the fandom the characters don't live up to their previous versions #but hey that's what happens with different writers and interpretations of characters and development but it's off-putting none the less #I mean it's not too bad though....right? (genuinely asking here) #I'm saying this as I'm already writing two LREF fics one as a partial episode rewrite and one as a new episode askjsdf #*cough cough* and they both involve Spike of course *cough cough* #lab rats elite force #lref #bree davenport #chase davenport #mighty med kaz #mighty med oliver #skylar storm

[ikinremu]

HI, all of your Tommy Shelby works, involving smut have gotten me all fired up!

So, I am asking you if you cou could please write a Tommy Shelby smut, where Tommy and the reader both have their own favorite part(s) of each others body, and that may lead to teasing one another.

or

Even where Tommy's voice or any of his mannerisms turns the reader on.

Thanks, :)

Hi anonymous, thank you so much for reading - its so appreciated and I’m overjoyed that you like my works! Thank you so so much for the request!! So sorry it took so long for a response. I really like this idea and I hope you like what i’ve done with it.. enjoy :)

|| Nsfw || Teasing - Tommy Shelby ||

Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

A Tommy Shelby teasing based smut oneshot!

tags: Fingering, Orgasm Denial, P in V, Teasing

! Smut Warning !

You adored Tommy from head to toe. Truly. Though, of course, everyone has their strengths and weaknesses - and ironically enough, what you considered to be Tommy's strengths were often what sent strikes of weakness through you.

Your fascinated gaze found no problem with projecting itself - and its ferocity - through the Garrison, swiftly parting any obstacles with a lack of consideration.

Truthfully, you weren't at all proud of the way Tommy's mannerisms alone could excite you - and they certainly didn't act in solidarity; even a seemingly innocent quality of his could have a shameful effect on you.

Your lustful fixation found captivity as you studied Tommy's hands with great intent. You surveilled the motions of them, peering through your tunnel vision as the routine bustle of the Garrison drifted further from your focus.

Frankly, you rather favoured Tommy's hands - it was simply difficult not to when you withheld the knowledge of their capabilities.

Elbows pressed against the Garrison's most popular attraction, Tommy's curled fingers twirled a cigarette between their bridges. Veins accentuated his hands, trailing disorderly paths beneath his skin; it was truly against your power to keep from absorbing every detail. A light push of smoke slipped the part of his lips, softly staining the air as your mind wandered astray.

It didn't, however, take much observation to recognise the smug portrait painting Tommy's face. He knew you were looking at him, and no doubt he'd realised what specific feature had fallen victim to this lewd motive of yours.

One thing Thomas Shelby needed zero assistance with was eye contact - it was to be considered above a strength. He always kept a firm hold on you, and if his hands were disrupted in doing so, his eyes would easily substitute.

His pupils practically split you in two, keen stare unfaltering as a cigarette resumed contact with his lips. In what could be viewed an instinctive manor, your stomach began to flutter as Tommy trailed his focus over your frame - gaze echoing with allure.

His expression did everything but soothe you, shooting a rush of adrenaline through your body. What you'd interpreted as this subtle understanding, communication even, could only spike your anticipated arousal.

It was only a matter of minutes before Tommy would approach, you'd connected those dots immediately, though he was far closer to the double doors you'd been rather blatantly eyeing - and honestly, you just couldn't resist such a ravenous nagging any longer.

Mindlessly, you arose from the stern seating of a wooden chair - one specifically distanced from the intended accompaniment. Tommy's eyes hadn't left your own, their only travel being such gloriously hungry glances over your body as you continued to step closer. Regulars were dotted all over, however in this moment it felt as though Tommy and yourself were the only people in the world. You knew what you wanted, he knew what you wanted; it was reduced to a matter of strides before you were able to indulge in this shared interest.

With a hoarse cough, Tommy cleared his throat, stubbing out his cigarette with the help of a nearby ashtray. Hands harshly digging into his trouser pockets, Tommy took a seemingly accomplished walk in the direction of the room you both knew was due to lose its vacancy.

The moment privacy was activated, you brazenly launched yourself in Tommy's direction - expecting him to meet you half way. Your clothed chest pressed against his, breath desperately hitching beneath your silk blouse. The hands you'd been dreaming so fondly about now squeezing your hips, you elongated your stance, neck stretching as you veered to connect with the supple lips in-front of you - however, you weren't met with a kiss.

Tommy chuckled with a gentle, somewhat mocking, shake of his head. "I'm gonna give you exactly what you wanted, love."

His callous fingers stroked just beneath your chin, forcing your vision upon him to remain stationary.

You had an inkling for where this was headed.

"Tommy-"

"Shh.." He dismissed, "Don't want people to hear us, eh?"

His hushed tone only furthered the flame of intimacy, a soft smile tugging at your lips - pleading to be freed from the compression.

"On the table." Tommy instructed, nodding in the direction of his firm demand.

You hopped atop the familiarly rounded surface, scooting back against the sleek wood as your skirt developed an ever so slight, upward crumple.

Tommy slipped a rusted key within the lock's shadowed opening, twisting it with a pop. You hadn't been made aware of this oddly enticing possession of his until now - though it certainly made the specifics of the circumstances far easier.

Your chest could only indulge in the deepest of heaves, stomach flitting with anticipation as Tommy's body became exceptionally close with your own.

His right hand snaked between your clenched thighs, splitting the friction you'd subconsciously built as he spread them apart.

"So fuckin wet." He groaned, the heat of his words tickling your ear as tantalising sensations began to form elsewhere. His swift fingers traced teasing, supple circles over the sodden material of your underwear - varying between intensities as your clit met the brunt of the touch. "You got this wet just from thinkin about my hands, mm?"

His words were laced with amusement, sound waves clambering down your exposed neck. You nodded - the sentence confirming your suspicions of his awareness. With a smug curve staining his face, the thick fingers of Tommy's opposing hand slid beneath the well-fixed waistband of your skirt, yanking it down with a singular pull - also discarding the soaked underwear with impressive unison.

Tommy's arm slung round your back, the painstakingly expensive fabric of his button up brushing your blouse before he hauled you forward with an unexpected, rather harsh, jolt.

At the greed-enthused collision, you buried your face against Tommy's neck. With a steep inhale, you ingested his strong, musky scent - desperately revelling in his touch.

Suddenly, you felt a crisp motion between the slick of your upper legs, barely brushing over your heat. Your teeth sunk into the plush of your lower lip, body melting against the fingers sliding inside your increasingly wet hole.

"Shit.." You breathed, eyelids painting shadows over your vision as a large hand cupped your chin.

"Look at me. Eh?" Tommy breathed, delicately pressing his forehead against your own - passion radiating through the closing gap between both of your jaws.

As you unclenched your drooped lids, releasing a heavy exhale, Tommy's fingers began strumming your swelling clit. Your hands clutched at the width of his shoulders, finding stability as the stimulation quickened. With the prompting of very little temptation, you submitted to the urge of pressing your lips against his. Before your mouthes could properly connect, Tommy re-enacted his previous dismissal of a kiss.

"You wanted my fingers so bad? That's all I'm gonna fuckin give you."

As vexing as this - soon to be - teasing was, it somehow amplified the stakes of your desire. Mouth agape, you let a whimper slip your throat - hot face still touching Tommy's, despite the infuriating lack of a potentially incredible embrace.

His fingers pumped inside you, finding an insatiably rapid pace as they teased your sopping pussy.

"Fuck, Tommy.." You grew careless of containing any moans as desperation seeped from your every pore, clit throbbing against the pleasing motions of his fingers.

"This what you wanted, love?" His eyes hadn't broken their dedicated train to yours, balmy foreheads clashing with one and other as your back began arching in response. "You wanted my fuckin fingers?"

"Mhm." You uttered, an all too familiar stir flooding your pitted abdomen, "I'm getting close."

As you became submerged by the feeling of an orgasm's sloping build, Tommy's fingers retracted from your so heavily drenched arousal - blocking the release at its very brink.

God, was he agitating when he wanted to be.

"I want to feel you come around me." The lustful nature of his speech - of his breath - was enough to drive you to the edge, and his smirk only added to the mix.

Body processing the denial of a release, you only grew to crave it further.

Driven by this pure, unfiltered thirst, you made light work of Tommy's buttoned waistcoat and shirt, soon following through the momentary process once more  - this time your blouse being the subject.

It wasn't at all long before the pair of you had completely deserted all clothing - not a single strip of fabric sheltering your skin.

Tommy's large hands spread over the thick flesh of your bare behind, eagerly kneading at it as the space between you lessened. With a slow push, his hard cock filled the previous depravity of your tight hole - his eyes rolling back as he entered.

Utilising his grip on your ass, Tommy pulled you to match his first, deep thrust - leaking tip taunting your sweet spot as you firmed your grasp on his, now exposed, shoulders.

"Fuck, you feel good.." A low grunt fled his mouth, hand planting a light slap to your behind before returning to its previous, hungry grab.

His hips bucked faster, reaching euphorically deep within your seeping arousal. Your head lolled back, teeth relentlessly torturing your bottom lip as your back formed a rather significant arch.

Tommy grinned, "Right there?"

You - subtly though frantically - nodded, whispering clusters of breathy confirmations as his pulsing erection pounded into you. Your hole clenched around the pleasing motions of his length, moans escaping both mouthes.

Your hips bucked against Tommy's, a singular hand of his jumping to massage your soft breasts, flicking the tenderness of your nipples as the friction caused their pebbling. You pressed open mouthed kisses to the upper planes of his chest, helplessly whining as he marked rapid thrusts.

He flicked your hardened nipples, tip slapping the places you craved most as he pleasured your drenched arousal. You trailed sloppy, heated kisses down his naked torso, nimble fingers still adamantly clutching at his shoulders.

Tommy’s skilful hips continued to slam against your own, burying his cock deeper in your sopping cunt. His hand suddenly retracted the touch from your breasts, sneaking beneath the intense contact as his fingers began to toy with your throbbing clit.

"Fuck!" You slipped a less than quiet moan, instinctively grinding against his dexterity as a knot grew apparent - creeping up from the depths of your fluttering stomach. "I'm gonna cum.."

"Cum for me, love." He grunted, teasing words breaking from the binds of his throat.

His fingers applied further pressure, erection thrusting as deep as you knew possible.

The burning tension coursing through your body wound tighter, preparing to wash over you - clearly without the intention of implementing any limits.

Tommy groaned lowly, granting one final pound into you as you felt a sudden warmth spread within your cunt.

You couldn't help but tremor as your orgasm struck, much anticipated release possessing your body - sensitivity peaking like never before due to the pent up frustration of your earlier denial.

"Shit.." You panted, more breath than word, as you came down from the euphoric climax - a smile stretching your pinkish lips. You pressed your now rather heated forehead against Tommy’s, his soft lips meeting yours - insinuating the kiss you’d had such a desperate longing for.

After a few short seconds, far too short by your own judgement, the passionate embrace was rather frustratingly split.

“I love you.” He spoke, gravelled voice tickling your ears as he tucked strands of your disheveled hair to the side.

“I love you too.”

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to use the asks feature on my page for requests of oneshots/drabbles/blurbs etc.. would be greatly appreciated! <3

#smut #smutty #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #tommy shelby oneshot

[scratchandplaster]

Aftermath of Drugging

CW: discussions of non-con drugging, spiking food, medical whump, overdosing, drug abuse, addiction, death, brief BBU-mention

Using drugs as a whump method is pretty common, and rightly so! As one of my favorite tropes, it was interesting to think about how they could affect the Whumpee after the act itself, be it physical or mental.

That's why I made a little compilation (for me and you), if you feel like agonizing your Whumpee even further. There are also some examples in between, for your entertainment!

The research is mostly relating to any downers, meaning any drug that makes you calm or fall asleep, so anesthetics, hypnotics or sedatives. Examples include ketamine, Rohypnol, GBL, propofol and heroin.

Uppers on the other hand have the opposite effect in stimulating the human nervous system. Some of the effects that are noted below are applicable to both kinds of drugs, but keep in mind that stimulants are more of an afterthought in this list. I'm going to recap the effects of both at the end.

I'm not a pharmacist by any means, but as far as reliable research for creative writing goes, this should suffice. No one is going to fact-check your whump fic, bestie 🤍

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By method:

Ingestion (forcing them to take pills, spiking their food)

→ General indigestion, nausea, dry mouth

Injections via syringe or continuous administration through an IV drip (e.g. in medical settings)

-> Swelling/tenderness/infection/bruising of the injection side

-> High fever (even days after the injection)

→ Anaphylaxis: skin rash, chest tightness, dizziness, nausea, facial swelling

Anaphylaxis is an all-body allergic reaction that can cause mild to severe and even deadly symptoms (shock or coma). It can escalate and should be immediately treated with a shot of adrenaline. This kind of reaction could be detrimental to Whumper's plans, especially if they intend to keep Whumpee alive for the foreseeable future. So it would be helpful for them to always carry an EpiPen, just in case...

Inhalation (gas or liquid)

→ High risk of choking and (sleep) apnea

-> Irritation of throat, nose and eyes

-> Throat spasms (Laryngospasm)

Includes coughing, difficulty breathing/speaking and the feeling of suffocation. Even though this kind of spasm fades away pretty quickly, they cause severe stress and panic to the aggrieved party, even leading up to lose consciousness again.

Physical side effects:

-> Drowsiness/tiredness, headaches/migraines, tinnitus

-> Dry mouth/throat or excessive drooling

-> Dilated pupils (causing Whumpee to be light-sensitive)

-> Slurred speech

-> Skin rash, itching, hives

-> decreased/increased appetite (give them a little snack...or not)

Motor skills:

-> Muscle relaxation, ataxia (lack of movement control), general weakness

-> Poor coordination

-> Tremors, cramps, spasms

-> Numbness, paralysis of the body or extremities (a local anesthetic would also do that trick)

Vegetative effects:

-> PONV: nausea, vomiting, retching

-> Cold shivers or hot flashes, acute sweating

-> Arrhythmia, low blood pressure and heart rate

-> Labored breathing

-> Vertigo

The physical consequences alone can make the wake-up process a living nightmare for Whumpee. Any after-effects that inhibit them from just getting up and escape are probably the worst in such a situation, making them weak and useless even if no restraints are involved. Imagine Whumpee just breathing heavily and quivering with cold shivers on a basement floor, unable to shake this uncomfortable feeling off. Their whole system is just trying to get the drugs out, but doing more damage than intended. Numb to the world around them, not even feeling if they are hurt or wounded. Or imagine the complete opposite: Them being able to get up and stumble to the exit, only to be overwhelmed by intense dizziness and collapsing back onto their knees. All the while Whumper watches, of course 👀

Did Whumpee eat beforehand?

Prior to any anesthesia, the person has to fast for at least six hours beforehand. Because Whumpees rarely plan their own kidnapping or non-con high, Whumper should wait for the right moment to get it done. Otherwise, they're risking aspiration or choking and therefore dangerous lung damage up to death; surely the most undesired outcome. Who would have thought that drug abuse can be dangerous...

Impure compounds? In my illegal drugs!?!

If your Whumper's stash really was cut with popular diluents e.g. other medication or lactose, the risks are surprisingly low. The threat of overdosing still comes from the main drug agent. However, mixing downers and uppers to cancel each other out can lead to a dangerous cycle, which amplifies the side effects and increases the risk to OD.

Mental side effects:

-> Nightmares, paranoia around food/drinks

-> Depression, anxiety, self-loathing (e.g. for not being careful enough)

-> Psychosis, hallucinations (optic, acoustic, in terms of taste etc.)

-> Dissociation, confusion, disorientation

-> Insomnia

-> Reduced anxiety or inhibitions

Now instead of being afraid, Whumpee could go batshit crazy and make fun of Whumper; spitting, biting and insulting their aggressor. An outburst they will probably regret later, when they're calm again and sober enough to understand the damage they have caused themself.

-> Memory loss/amnesia

Cue intimate Whumper, who just plays the part of a worried friend while keeping their love safe and controlled. Vague recollections of past abuse? No, just take another sip from your tea, it's alright... One could use drugs as a mean of removing memories altogether, I think in the BBU the "drip" is used to erase the whole personality of the Whumpee, making them a blank slate to train however one would like.

Withdrawal:

-> minutes or even days after the initial drugging

-> extreme anxiety up to paranoia

-> nausea, vomiting, indigestion

-> muscle aches

-> flu symptoms like a runny nose, sweating and fever

Depending on the kind of drug and how often it is used, withdrawal can start after just one dosage. "Not even once"-drugs include meth, heroin and crack cocaine. Also, barbiturates have a high risk of dependence. Speaking of it...⬇

Addiction as a long term effect:

-> Organ damage especially of the brain, liver, kidneys and the diseases that follow (including cancer, short weight, heart failure)

-> Loss of interests, behavior/personality change

-> Selling all valuables and ending up in poverty

-> Aggression/violent behavior

-> Shame and guilt

Isolated, financially and mentally unstable, Whumpee's life had been ruined with just a single act. Even Caretaker turned their back on their former friend. But Whumper would love to help Whumpee become sober again, under just a few conditions. On the other side of the spectrum: a Whumpee who finally managed to escape and take revenge on their abuser, they slowly but surely make Whumper ruin themself through their newly developed little habit...

To sum up:

Downers (decrease bodily functions and calm you down)

→ Unconsciousness, weakness, distortion of perception, failure of motor functions, coma

-> Common examples: Xanax, ketamine, propofol

Vs.

Uppers (stimulate bodily functions and mood)

-> reduced inhibitions, more prone to hallucinations, psychosis, seizures, serotonin syndrome (high heart rate, sweating, twitching, mania)

-> Common examples: meth, ecstasy, cocaine

Bonus: How to store your Whumpee!

The immediate consequence of drugging someone is to figure out how to keep them. Get them secluded and ready for whumping:

-> In the backseat, foot space or trunk of a car (use an ambulance, it's inconspicuous)

-> You know these roof boxes people strap on top of their car? Stuff ´em in there!

-> Put them in a box and ship them overseas

-> Basements are classics, but try the attic for a change

-> Just use a coffin, combined with an old hearse nobody is going to notice

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterpost]

#tldr: you will feel pretty shitty afterwards :( #this is organized weirdly sorry for that #please add anything you're missing! #whump #whumpblr #creative writing #whump community #whump drabble #Morris would like this crash course #writing advice #non con drugging #drug abuse #overview #side effects #aftermath #tw addiction #tw death #medical whump #tw overdose #spiking food #anaesthetics #anaesthesiology #sedation #syringe #needles #tw drugs #masterlist #kidnapping #allergic reaction #shock

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Any prompts involving Asriel and Asgore? Either the two both enjoying a good meal, or one of them eating the other?

Oh for sure I’ve got ideas here.

Streaming had been a great way to make some cash on the side while at college and since he was home with his dad for the summer, he had even more time to do it now. Of course, it was pretty embarrassing when his dad walked in on him doing it and his chat seemed to go crazy over the big, friendly goat. He was trying to both shoo his dad out of the room and get his chat to stop being weird about his dad when he got an...interesting donation. Eat his dad on stream, five hundred dollars. It was something that made the goat pause, both his hands on his father's shoulders in his efforts to try and push the older goat away. It's not like he hasn't eaten people on stream before--he's lost a few roommates that way and killed off some of the local frat guys and jocks for it, too. But his own dad..? Well, he's been wanting to try bigger meals lately...and there's that sad, dopey look on his dad's face when A.sgore asks if he can just stay and watch if he's quiet...and A.sriel's belly growling out seals the deal for him. Chat went even crazier when they watched the younger, smaller goat go from pushing his dad to pulling him forward, shoveling A.sgore's entire head right into his drooling maw in an instant. Thick gulps ring out as he expertly works on scarfing down the much larger man. The chat cheers him on all the while as he gets past the chest, over that doughy belly, and starts slurping down kicking legs. A.sriel tips his head back and lets out a final, hard gulp as he sends A.sgore's feet down the hatch and his white gut takes up most of the screen as his own father is forced inside. A nasty belch makes his mic spike and he tries to get back to his game despite the very large, wriggling distraction both he and his chat are trying to deal with. It doesn't help that he keeps belching into his mic, or that the gurgles of his gut and muffled yells of his panicking father are now a constant background noise. He was about to call it quits and end the stream so he can go cough his dad up when he got another donation--this one quadruple the amount with a simple request: digest his dad on stream. Another familiar one, which has ended the lives of most of his roommates and a couple boyfriends...and A.sriel would spend just as much time contemplating this one as he did for them. With another crash belch, he gets back to his game, paying his father no mind as his guts churn and clench and gurgle all the while. A.sgore clearly got more frantic and panicked the longer the stomach worked on him, but the only response A.sriel would give him is another nasty belch that only seemed to shink his stomach another inch or so. After a three-hour stream, anyone tuning in wouldn't even be able to tell what A.sriel ate--just that his gut is looking a lot bigger and rounder than usual and that it's bubbling fiercely over something, and the occasional burp makes some white fur come from his jaws. But hey, he's a couple thousand richer, and since he's planning to stay a few months still, he promises everyone they'll get to meet more people he knew...and for the right price, they can find out where his dad went missing.

"Dad, c'mon, I'm going to miss the bus if you don't let go of me!" A.sriel whines. He was meant to be leaving for college but A.sgore hasn't stopped hugging him for over a minute. He's starting to drown in the sheer fluffiness of his old man! Despite his request, though, A.sgore only seems to hug him tighter. "Oooooh...I just don't wanna see you go, A.zzy! Who knows what could happen to you out there all alone? College life isn't anything like our little town!" A.sriel would have responded to that, but his muzzle is so firmly planted between his dad's pecs that the best he can manage is some muffled noise. "I went to college to, you know. Lots of guys get their starts there...lots of 'em get their ends." He's still hugging tighter, somehow. A.sgore's massive arms just keep pulling A.sriel closer and closer. His muzzle is pushing father into his dad's chest...no, his entire head is! He starts to yell, his legs thrashing, no longer on the ground as A.sgore pulls him deeper. The older goat's pecs flex tight and they suck A.sriel in up to his chest! "Don't worry...Dad's gotcha, A.zzy. I know ya wanted to go to college but...I just can't let you! I can't bare the thought of someone eating my poor son..." His chest flexes again. A.sriel is waist-deep in pure white pecs, his legs kicking wildly outside of them. "...but at least if you're eaten by me, I know exactly where you went. That's a lot of people's college experience, you know! So it's not like you're missing out!" A.sgore grunts as he flexes his chest again, his son's kicking legs quickly slurping up behind his chest. He lets out a sigh and relaxes again, his pecs hanging heavy before him, bulging out as A.sriel thrashed around inside. "Golly, I haven't done that one in a good while...heh, last time I sent a guy in there was just before I met your mom, y'know!" He pats his chest a few times. He can just barely hear his son's muffled pleas to come out. "Just relax, A.zzy. I gotcha...mmff..." A.sgore closes his eyes as his chest begins to flex and pump out. He can really hear A.sriel screaming now and it gets him a bit excited. It really has been a while since he's eaten like this...it's honestly making him a bit hungry again! He doesn't even notice when A.sriel stops making noise or moving altogether, or when his chest smooths out, a bit fuller than before with his son added to it. A.sgore just kept flexing and flexing until his chest felt empty. A loud sigh escapes him when he stops and he gives them a rub. "Golly...I hope you had fun with that. It's making me miss college life, too!" Honestly...if he's quick, he might be able to catch A.sriel's ride. His son might not be able to experience it again but...well, it'd be rude not to go and indulge just a little bit, right? Now that he's got a real craving for...college meat. He's sure A.sriel would want that for him! Smiling to himself, and giving his pecs a final squeeze, A.sgore heads off to the bus stop, his heavy gut letting out a rumble as he thinks back to old memories.

"And you ate like this all the time..?" A.sriel asks, his white fur taking on a bit of a green tint as his guts churn harshly again. Something comes up and he belches wetly, a football helmet flying from his jaws. It bounces off his engorged gut and hits the ground with a thump. A.sgore laughs, watching the helmet roll past him, his back pressed against his son's. "Sure I did! Me and R.udy tore the place apart every month or so, y'know. Golly, I remember that time that I sent the whole team down my cock while blackout drunk." It was a bit embarrassing to call back on still but...man if it hadn't felt good. "D-Dad, don't talk about stuff like that with me, geez!" A.sriel demands his entire face red. He knew his dad would say something dumb like that without thinking! Thank god the only people who could possibly hear it besides him are currently stuffed in one of two guys--A.sriel's and A.sgore's. The older goat had come by his son's college as a surprise visit and, tempted by all the fresh meat, the two of them tore apart a frat house and then the football team after A.sgore learned they were finishing up practice. A.sriel had eaten a few guys,s ure, but this was well beyond what he'd done before. It made him a little sick, honestly, but he didn't want to get shown up by his dad of all people. They ended up with a pretty equal amount, though, and despite being out of practice, his dad was handling his meal much better. "Oh, don't be like that, A.zzy! I have tons of college stories to tell!" A.sgore says with a chuckle. "Unless you want to tell me some? I know it's only been about a year but I'm sure you've done plenty in that time!" He looks over his shoulder but his son doesn't do the same. He's still red in the face. "Uh...well..." A.sriel...doesn't have any crazy stories to tell. Other than occasionally snacking on a guy or two, he hasn't gone all out like it seems his dad did. He didn't think A.sgore was that cool in college. A large paw pats his shoulder a few times and A.sgore chuckles again. "Golly, no need to worry, that's what your old man is here for. Once we're done with this meal, whaddya say we go pick on some professors for dessert, huh? I bet you've got a few tasty-looking ones!" A.sriel looks over his shoulder now to see his dad's grinning face. The younger goat smiles a bit as well. "...yeah, alright, Dad. Just...gimmie a bit with these guys first. Trying to keep them down." He belches thickly again, another helmet flying from his jaws. "Emphasis on trying..."

#v.ore #male vore #mlm vore #m/m vore #gay vore #vore prompts #male vore prompts #oral vore #pec vore #mass vore #digestion #fatal vore #deltarunevore #asrieldreemurvore #asgoredreemurvore #ask #familial vore

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

double dare, m | ksj, knj

pairing(s): seokjin x reader x namjoon — also yoongi x reader, implied ot7 x reader

summary: Kim Seokjin calls to issue a challenge. A (double) dare, if you will. He says you can't take two dicks at once. Kim Namjoon, his roommate, argues that you can. Well, you never back down from a dare, especially when it involves Seokjin and Namjoon.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, low-key horny crack + chaotic energy; smut (fem reader, doggy, threesome, slight D/s dynamics, mild restraint, nipple play, finger sucking, fingering, double penetration); non-idol!AU - ot7 x sex friend!reader, focusing on Seokjin and Namjoon in this one :D (cough with some Yoongi)

'journey (to the dick)' au aka you as the main character in harem hentai and BTS is your (horny af) harem

--

“Yah!”

Smack!

“What? Ah, f-fuck!”

“I need you to get over here. There is a particular matter that needs to be discussed,” came the very serious, no-nonsense tone from your phone, speaking rather sternly for someone who called you three times in a row and forced you to answer in the middle of your, ahem, dick appointment.

You were holding the phone in one hand and your other was on the bed, fingers clutching the sheets, jerked forward periodically with firm, hard thrusts.

Someone was shouting behind the one on the phone.

“I told hyung that you could take dick in both holes and he doesn’t believe me!”

You immediately recognized that deep, sultry voice in the background. Still, you needed to address the accusation first.

“Kim Seokjin,” you panted. “What the fuck?”

You could hear his exaggerated eye roll. Well, you couldn’t, but you could, you know?

“Namjoon thinks you can take dick in the pussy and the ass at the same time,” Seokjin spat as if that was utter bullshit. “And that’s just not possible.”

Smack! “Why–” Smack! “Would–” Smack! “You–” Smack! “Think–” Smack! “I couldn’t – mmm, fuck, yes right theeere, fuck, so deep and so hard, ugh, you’re so good…”

Seokjin continued like you weren’t in the middle of getting fucked right that very second.

“Because, okay, you could take some small dick, sure, but us? Us? Come on, you totally couldn’t.”

“That was absolutely absurd of you to say so, Kim Seokjin,” you snapped, your words curling into a lustful moan as a firm hand pushed the small of your back down, forcing you to your elbow, leisurely spanking your ass hard with his open palm, keeping you on the edge, so close to hitting your peak but not quite there, thrusting steady but rough.

The headboard was hammering the wall at the same deliberate pace.

The neighbor who lived on the other side of the wall was cursing again.

“Are you both going to be home?” you gasped out, all of your muscles tensing. Almost…

Seokjin snorted. “Pfft, obviously, we are human beings who sleep, you know–”

“We’ll see about that.”

You hung up on him.

“I gotta go.”

Surprisingly, the deep, husky voice behind you actually responded.

“After this one.”

“You asshole, you are holding out – a-ah, wait, oooooooh, fuck!”

-

"I took a shower, Yoongi helped me clean all my bits, I dried my hair, went back home to put on a fresh dress and you're fucking ASLEEP, KIM SEOKJIN, WHAT THE FUCK?!"

“Zzzzzzz – guh!”

Total chaos as you threw yourself onto Kim Seokjin’s lap, disturbing the perfect image of self-proclaimed Worldwide Handsome laying on the couch covered with a fluffy white blanket and squishy alpaca plush with a red neck scarf tucked in his inner arm, grabbing said plush and smacking him with it repeatedly as Seokjin lost his shit, flailing about and throwing his arms over his head, wailing at you to stop. His roommate, Kim Namjoon, was unabashedly cackling like a lunatic behind you.

“CEASE AND DESIST!”

“You–” FWOOP! “Bossy–” FLOOP! “Pillow–” BOOP! “Princess!”

“Namjoon, h-help!”

“Hell no,” Namjoon snorted in laughter. “I’m having a great time watching.”

“Yah!”

“First you doubt me, then you fall asleep on me, what’s next, you–”

Seokjin grabbed both your wrists, thinking he had won, already cheering for himself, only for you to plant your tits right onto his handsome face, his nose jammed right into your cleavage because of the sweetheart neckline of your red lace dress, hot breath warming your chest, brown eyes wide, grip on your wrists lessening in his shock. You yanked your hands out and clutched his head, sinking your fingers into his black hair, violently muffling his half-squeal, half-moan with your breasts, blaringly obvious that you weren’t wearing a bra because your prominent nipples were already hard and creating stiff peaks under the fabric, poking him incessantly in the cheeks.

You gasped as another pair of strong hands grabbed your forearms and made you release Seokjin’s head, forcing them up and your back to arch. A deep voice dipped down to caress your ear, not paying attention to Seokjin who did not detach himself from your tits.

He was making the most of it while you were distracted.

“Woah there, what do you think you’re doing?” Namjoon drawled, grip tightening, bending your arms back, elbows up, pressing your wrists to your upper back. “That’s not a punishment.”

You tried to breathe but Namjoon’s heavenly deep voice was taking your breath away.

“You know what punishments are.”

He pressed your head back, leaving your arms the way they were, and Namjoon’s sultry eyes appeared, half-lidded brown orbs completely visible because he had cut his hair very short now, dark gray-brown and spiked up, cocking an eyebrow at you. You whimpered at his gaze, suddenly feeling hotness on the curve of your breast, lips pressed to one of your nipples, and then wetness closing in, sucking you through lace and satin, the short flared skirt rising because of your spread thighs, but there was too much fabric between you and Seokjin’s hardness, the blanket and pajama pants and boxer briefs, so frustrating, about to lower your head to rectify that, but Namjoon’s palm pressed into your chin, fingers closing in around your cheeks, immobile.

“Where do you think you’re looking?”

Every time Namjoon smirked, one of his dimples peeked out at you. Ugh, so sexy.

“I… I’m s-supposed to be punishing Seokjinnie…” you gasped out, feeling said man’s teeth nicking at your nipple through your dress, his large hands closing in on your waist, pulling you closer, causing you to bend back more, unable to escape Namjoon’s grip and gaze.

Namjoon tilted his head, amused. “Yeah? Were you so, so mad that hyung wasn’t awake so you could show off how well you can take it in both holes?”

You didn’t want to whine and be pathetic, but Seokjin’s mouth and hands were all over your breasts and waist, pinching you through your clothes and sucking on the hard nubs, rushes of pleasure clouding your head and making you forget your defiance, remembering all the things Namjoon liked, like when you were so drunk on sex that you just gave into him, now whimpering and opening your mouth, your tongue sliding out, feeling him shift his palm, Namjoon’s finger leisurely tracing your lips. Your tongue followed, licking the pads of his fingers, rolling your body into Seokjin’s mouth, wanting to grab his shoulders but not letting yourself do so because Namjoon hadn’t allowed you to do so yet.

He liked you bad, but he also liked you obedient.

“W… Want it…”

You felt Namjoon’s other hand tangle in your hair, fingers molding to your scalp, sliding two of his long fingers into your mouth and making you suck on them, your eyelids fluttering as he fucked your mouth with his fingers, rubbing your tongue, pushing your arms down, your name growled by that deep, deep voice.

“Look at me.”

You fixated your eyes on Namjoon’s stern expression, shuddering as you felt Seokjin push the sleeves of your dress down, scooping out your breasts, moaning as his lips touched your skin, hot tongue teasing your hard nipples and you couldn’t tell him to do more or less, trapped by Namjoon’s fingers in your mouth and his hand in your hair, tugging at it lightly so you sucked his fingers like a cock, vision hazing out at the helplessness of it all.

Voluntary helplessness, to be clear.

“You want it? You had Yoongi-hyung fucking you earlier and now you want more? So dirty and so insatiable,” Namjoon taunted, not meaning it of course, because how could he mean it when he too wanted it all, knew you were insatiable and loved it as much as the rest of them, addicted to the feeling you gave him, pushing your head down, fingers still in your mouth. Seokjin raised his head, black hair, large brown eyes, pink lips lush and full and gorgeous, meeting the image of fingers sliding in and out of your glossy lips, your eyes glassy and reflected in his.

Namjoon pushed his fingers apart, opening your mouth.

Your tongue lolled out, swiping around his knuckle, staring into Seokjin’s eyes.

“F… Fuck…”

The oldest was dirty-minded but resistant in showing it, clenching his jaw, weakening as your fingers danced up his arms and you moaned his name messily between Namjoon’s long wet digits, tits pushed up by the neckline of your dress straining under them, knowing your sensuality was irresistible and infectious, placing your hands on his broad shoulders, pulling him closer.

“I still… don’t think you can take us both at once…” he breathed, staring into your eyes.

You smirked, Namjoon’s fingers sliding out, saliva smearing onto your chin, the taste of his skin on your tongue.

“Only one way to find out.”

And you leaned in and kissed those perfect lips, soft and passionate kiss, wrapping your arms around him, fingers splaying over his back and in his hair, his name trapped in the kiss, sudden hardness pressing to your back, breaking the first kiss and turning your head to be trapped in another, full lips commanding the lip-lock, two different hands on your breasts, Seokjin and Namjoon toying with them, the rush of pleasure only just beginning.

-

“Whose face am I looking at?”

“Obviously mine,” Seokjin scoffed. “Do you even have to ask?”

You gasped. “But Namjoon is so handsome.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you want him to make you look at him, so that completely defeats the purpose of being forced when the default is you facing him.”

“Also, hyung thinks he’s the most handsome,” Namjoon chuckled, tugging your dress off, kisses across your chest as it left your body, hands travelling to push your panties down.

“No,” Seokjin choked, affronted as you moaned and gripped Namjoon’s shoulders, enjoying his powerful grip. “I am not that self-centered. I just happen to like how I look very much. Namjoon is very handsome, capable, and intelligent.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

Namjoon shoved a finger inside your wetness, making you stumble into the sofa, raising your leg to place it against Seokjin’s naked thigh, almost falling if it wasn’t for your ass being suddenly grabbed by Seokjin’s firm hands.

“You are still clumsy, Namjoon,” Seokjin sighed, lowering you slightly to look over your shoulder.

You reached back and held onto the sofa, Namjoon’s mouth on your nipple and his finger in your soaked pussy, thrusting deeply to match his swiping tongue, maddeningly slow but rough, so dangerous, losing your mind at the leisurely pace, trying to buck your hips to get more but Seokjin’s hands were preventing you.

You heard the oldest huff and make a disapproving tongue click.

“Not like that. She likes it faster than that.”

Namjoon knew that. Obviously.

Your eyes widened.

He smirked around your nipple as one of Seokjin’s hands left your ass.

“Seok– oh, fuuuck!”

You gasped as you felt another finger enter your dripping pussy, another finger of a different hand, stretching your walls and a different pace, faster, your eyes rolling back, head hitting Seokjin’s shoulder, but either he didn’t notice or didn’t care, your moans in his ear, Namjoon matching the rhythm, oh, shit, they were fingering you together, Seokjin from between your legs from behind and Namjoon from the front, the backs of their hands slick with your juices, Seokjin’s other hand still squeezing one ass cheek and Namjoon’s other hand on your waist, his mouth on your breasts.

“Come on, I know you’re close,” Seokjin muttered, exhaling hard. “I can feel your pussy sucking me in, asking for dick already.”

He was not normally one for dirty talk, but sometimes Seokjin let himself got lost in the lust, lost in the moment of your throbbing walls and shaking body, moans of their names tumbling from your lips, filling up their living room with obscenity and depravity, thrusting in unison, loud and wet and heavy breathing blending with your sound, pushed to the edge, thighs tensing, electricity flashing throughout your nerves.

“Namjoon, Seokjin, fuck!”

Wet squelch, sweet gush of your juices soaking their hands, your eyes rolling back, yelping as Namjoon’s hand retreated and Seokjin stuffed another finger in you. You didn’t need to say it, one glance at Namjoon and he could see it, harder, hyung, she can take it, gasping as Seokjin obeyed and Namjoon's wet fingers pressed onto your throbbing clit, wild howl at the contact, sparks of sensitivity because it was right after your orgasm, heat at your neck from Seokjin’s cheeks, his teeth finding your shoulder, biting it, maybe from his realization of how crazy this moment was or in the heated moment of wanting to feed you even more pleasure, but the sharp unexpected pain only hiked your moans, Namjoon rubbing your clit as Seokjin shoved his fingers into you hard and fast, the angle a little awkward but there was so much going on that it didn’t matter, already there once again, obsessed with the overabundance of ecstasy, I’m cumming, fuck, Namjoon, Seokjin, a-ah, clit engorged and pulsing strongly to Namjoon’s punishing touch, words jumbled and woven with breathless cries, orgasm crashing down and soaking Seokjin’s hand once more, thick and sweet and honey-like, viscous juices clinging to your inner thighs, painted with your high.

Namjoon leaned in, silencing your shuddering gasps with his mouth, deep kisses and swirling tongue dazing you, aftershocks flinching through your torso as he pressed his fingertips to your jerking core, lowering you from the crashing waves, whispering darkly against your lips.

“We haven’t even started.”

Releasing you, and you were already turning around, meeting Seokjin’s gaze and his panting smile, kissing it, sighing contentedly in his touch, just something about those lips and his large frame surrounding you, something about the way he shivered when you sucked his breath away and drank it, almost innocent, but not that innocent, because the second your wandering hand found the condom on the sofa and pressed it into his palm, his lips curved into a teasing grin, nipping at yours.

“Already?” he teased.

You reached between you and him, fingers ghosting his length, smirking at Seokjin’s gasp, gazing at him under your lashes.

“You get hard from kisses, Seokjinnie.”

“I – gah, d-don’t…”

But he didn’t mean it, of course not, because he was humping your hand that was closing around his hot, hardening cock, stroking him slowly from base to tip, spreading the pre-cum over the sensitive head, his jaw clenching at the feeling, desire and need clouding his eyes, pupils blown-out, ripping open the foil packet, heavier exhales, staring into your eyes.

“You want to look at me that bad, huh?” he breathed against your lips, fishing for it.

You gave it to him, exactly what he wanted.

“Mhm, Seokjin, I want to look at your handsome, perfect face while you fuck my pussy and Namjoon fucks my ass.”

He sucked in a breath, caught in his throat.

“You’re crazy, but so, so hot.”

Eh, you’ll take it.

You moved your hand and he rolled the condom down, yelping as you captured his lips again, addicted to his kiss and his soft cries, his hand and your hand guiding his stiff cock to your quivering pussy, already saturated with slickness, spread knees and lowering body, sinking down onto him, moaning into his mouth and he moaned into your throat, suffocating each other with your noises, rolling your hips and breaking the kiss, both of your faces pointed to heaven with the true heaven between your connected hips, pleasure at being filled and doing the filling, his hands on your ass to push you down.

“Hyung, spread her ass,” Namjoon ordered behind you.

You pitched forward slightly, wrapping your arms around Seokjin’s shoulders, gasping as you felt him tug outwards, sinking his fingers into your softness, your lips pressed to his cheek, his sweet voice murmuring your name, filling you with warmth despite being exposed so vulnerably.

You inhaled deeply, breathing in Seokjin’s clean scent.

Then you flexed your asshole, tightening and relaxing the ring of muscle.

“Fuck, that’s so sexy.”

You gazed at him in your periphery, eyes widening as you realized Namjoon too was naked now, muscular body towering behind you, flicking open a bottle of lube and spreading it over his fingers, rubbing them together as they became shiny and slippery, catching your interested expression.

He smirked, dimple on display. “Ready?”

“I’ve been ready since I walked in the door, Namjoon,” you smirked back, enamored with his seductive dark brown eyes.

He chuckled.

“Nah, you were ready the second Seokjin challenged you and said you couldn’t do it.”

Oops, he got ya.

You gasped hotly, feeling his fingers press up against your tight hole, tracing circles and teasing you, pushing into your ass in the opposing rhythm of Seokjin’s rocking hips, your hold on Seokjin’s shoulders tightening, hearing him gasp with you, watching two Namjoon’s fingers dip in and snake into the tightness, both of them inhaling sharply at the sound, wet squelch and your wanton cry, your hips rocking into it, pleasure shimmering all over.

“T-That’s still not a dick,” Seokjin managed to get out, still stubborn but mixed with awe regardless.

“Gotta stretch her out,” Namjoon chuckled. “Don’t wanna hurt our good girl, right?”

Well, if you weren’t in euphoria before, you definitely were there now.

“N… Namjoon-ah…”

“Shh, I got you, just enjoy.”

You arched your back a little more, Seokjin sliding down to accommodate, slowly thrusting and gasping at the sensation, turning to him and intense kisses, needing to occupy your mouth, fullness in your ass and your pussy, whimpering as your felt Namjoon’s fingers flex, nudging your muscles to relax, core throbbing, clenching around Seokjin’s stiff length instead, so good, oh, yes, it was so good, his kisses and slapping your hips down, wanting more, already chasing more, intoxicated by the feeling of both your holes being filled.

You heard the bottle of lube fall to the floor and the slick sound of hand on hardness.

Shivers up and down your spine.

“Say it.”

You broke Seokjin’s kiss, gasping.

“Tell us that you want it,” Namjoon growled.

Drunk on the idea, commanded by lust.

“P-Please, Namjoon…” you breathed, eyes hazy and half-lidded, staring at Seokjin. “Want you to fuck my ass as Seokjin fucks my pussy. Want you two to ruin me.”

The brown eyes beneath you widened, mouthing, you’re crazy.

You grinned, Namjoon’s fingers buried in your ass.

“Told you, hyung.”

His fingers pulled out, pushing the small of your back down with his palm. One a second to mourn the loss and then your eyes widened, the thick head of Namjoon’s cock pressed against your ass.

Wait, maybe you should have asked if Namjoon could be in your puss–

Too late.

“Oh, f-fuck!”

You clutched Seokjin’s shoulders, digging your nails into him as slowly, carefully, Namjoon’s girth entered your tight, tight hole, still tight even through he worked you up and stretched you out, the lube helping him slip inside, your mind going blank, realizing that maybe you went over your head a little, but too far to turn back and, to be honest, you didn’t want to turn back, the fullness already too good to regret it, gasping as Namjoon gripped your hips, holding you completely still as he bottomed out, hot breath on your shoulder blades.

Well.

Your mind wasn’t so blank that you forgot to speak.

“Still…” you panted, slowly grinning at Seokjin’s shocked and stunned face, his jaw dropped as he felt and witnessed it. “Think it’s impossible for me to take dick in both holes?”

“Y-Y-You…” he sputtered, choking a little as Namjoon began to move, his scrambled words mixing with your lustful moans. “Are absurd.”

It was almost too much, but Namjoon did not let you command the pace, instead firmly keeping you in one spot as he nudged Seokjin to move, guiding you both expertly, groaning when you pulsated around the two dicks, able to feel the reverberations from the closeness, body to body to body, trembling from the overwhelming sensation, Seokjin thrusting up from below, his handsome face tense, panting with effort.

“Oh, fuck… it’s so tight… fuck, I can feel it, I can feel his dick fucking your ass, that’s so weird…”

You weren’t quite sure what he expected to feel. What did Seokjin originally think he was getting into when he called you? He was the one who had been touting their superior size! What did he think it would feel like–?!

“A-Ah, y-yes, there, like that, oh f-fuck, like thaaaaaaat…”

You forgot about questioning Seokjin’s brain, refocusing on the feeling of the consistent thrusting and depth of the two cocks, an almost melodic rhythm and substantial fullness. There was a sweet spot, right, oh, there, Namjoon’s hand flat against your back, his deep grunts of effort paired with each smack of hips to ass and Seokjin’s crotch to yours.

Oh, huh, were those loud, pitched moans resonating off the apartment walls you? But the ecstasy too high, too real, too good, so good that you seemed to forget that it was already very late at night.

Surely their neighbors would complain – was that part of your brand now? oops – but it seemed that neither Seokjin or Namjoon noticed or cared, pants and moans and groans and chasing carnal pleasure, irrational, wild, heads thrown back, lashes fluttering and lost in bliss, stuffing your tight, wet heat from both holes, kissing Seokjin sloppily before turning your head to make out with Namjoon, his teeth trapping your tongue and sucking on it, gargled moan and shaking body at the mercy of his iron grip, snapping back to Seokjin’s pillowy lips, juxtaposition of hard and soft, crashing pleasure and coiled constriction, letting go, orgasm overtaking you in shudders, not realizing you had been so close, their names falling from your throat between fucked-out, loud, blissful cries.

“Seokjin… Namjoon…”

Couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but peak in that gratifying elation, shivers up and down your spine, the lower half of your body throbbing and trembling, chin lowering only to witness Seokjin shutting his eyes and clenching his jaw, groaning out your name as he shot into the condom, jerking cock twitching inside you, vibrating front to back, no, that was Namjoon’s low hiss of your name, his fingernails digging in your hips he shot into your ass, your eyes snapping open, thick spurts of his orgasm so strong that you could feel his cock twitching deep inside, your pulse roaring in your ears, chest heaving, struggling for breath.

Feeling far too proud that they both came with you.

Namjoon’s sweaty chest hit your back, sandwiching you between that big body and Seokjin’s broad shoulders. Seokjin looked to be two seconds away from passing out from the ecstasy of orgasm.

Nice.

“Don’t… question me… again,” you snickered, panting heavily.

Seokjin mumbled and shrugged, incoherent.

“I think he’s saying you could do this, but not the reverse of him in the ass and me in the pussy,” Namjoon clarified, kissing your shoulders with an amused chuckle.

“What?!” you roared.

“That’s n-not…!”

Welp.

-

“We still have unfinished business.”

“Yoongi, I just got DP’ed last night. Have mercy.”

“Mmm.”

Kisses on your neck, lowering the strap of your bra, wrapping his arms around you, purring your name.

“I guess you can buy me dinner and we can watch a movie instead.”

“I have to buy?!”

--

masterpost

#seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #namjin smut #bts smut #ot7 x reader #yoongi x reader #seokjin smut #namjoon smut #seokjin x you #namjoon x you #yoongi smut #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x you #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you

[whatanoof]

A Push in the Right Direction

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~7.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, sex pollen so by default it's dubcon, pining

Summary: Healing injured patients? Psh, easy stuff. Force healing? A little more tricky. Confessing your crush to your very close friend? Damn near impossible until a flower bush shoves you in the right direction.

A/N: Happy birthday my friend @marvelassassin221b!! I hope you are staying safe, and that your birthday will bring happiness and wisdom to your life. It's been a blessing talking to you and laughing at memes together <3 Thank you for giving me the push to get this fic done and posted, I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy some of our favorite redhead Jedi ;)

You’ve always been terrible with directions. Like, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten lost in more dangerous settings, but even your Jedi Master used to shake their head when you had survival exercises in your Padawan years. Greez too, makes comments about how atrocious you are at navigation. You hadn’t been allowed back to the holomap since a disastrous set of directions landed the Mantis on the more unfriendly side of the Outer Rim.

But even with all of your shortcomings at mapping, you have a solid crisis mode. You need to have one as a medic. It’s not a good idea to freeze when a patient is bleeding out on the ground in front of you, there is only one way that is going to end, and it’s not going to be a happy ending. Under pressure, all of the unsureness that surfaces during your attempts at navigation vanishes, and your body is moving before your mind even consciously thinks to. It’s your zen mode, almost your place of meditation, where you give into the inner instinct and allow the Force to guide you through the process. Too bad you can’t reach that state in any situation other than emergencies, maybe you would be able to navigate your moves in confessing a crush.

You had met Cal Kestis on Bracca. He’d cut his hand open on a jagged edge of wall paneling, and Prauf brought him to you, one of the few healers among the scrappers. You couldn’t tell what exactly it was that gave him away to you, but the instant his eyes met yours, you knew where he had come from.

Of course, you waited until Prauf had gone back to work to reveal yourself. Healing through the Force decreases the chance of infection, is painless, and is essentially instantaneous. While your normal supplies would have done the trick, the drama queen in you realized this would be the perfect way to show Cal he wasn’t alone. Force healing is tricky, but you’d had a surprising knack for it ever since your youngling years. The Order had trained you up in the way of Force healing and given you the tools to take advantage of your aptitudes. Cal’s face had been priceless when you simply waved your hand over his, and the wound closed within seconds.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you weren’t alone. Admittedly, in the long years after the Purge, you’d toyed with the idea that you had been the only Jedi to escape. Those had been dark days, where you could barely scrape together the energy to forage for food and water, laughing that the Jedi Order would die with a single Padawan who had lost her lightsaber along with everything she had known.

But then Cal stumbled into your little cordoned off area. You’d become close friends from that moment to the day Prauf died and the Ninth Sister shoved you both off of the cliff and onto the freight train below. The Mantis crew was surprised, to say the least. They had gotten reports of a single Jedi wreaking havoc on Bracca. But they welcomed you aboard and you had become the team medic, patching up Cal when he got back from missions and finding time in between to try and recover the Force abilities you had lost to time.

---

“Hey.” You look up from your work. Medical supplies lie strewn across the floor of your part of the room, bandages unwound and your meager supply of medication stacked methodically in the corner.

Cal looks down at you from the doorway, a streak of something across his cheekbone. You want to wipe it off, but you just smile back, “Welcome back. Find anything cool?”

His happy grin only widens, “You’ll have to come and find out.”

“What?”

He beckons you towards the main hull, “Come on!”

Cere and Greez are already there and seated around the meal table, and BD is perched on the table, chirruping animatedly as if talking to Cere. You take your place with them, noting the empty chair to your right. Merrin is back on Dathomir, searching for ancient texts about Nightsister magic and rituals. She’s been gone for several days, but you still find yourself seeking out her snarky comments and cool confidence.

“Okay.” Cal stands at the head of the table, rubbing his hands together in a way that makes him seem as if he is playing the adult. “I’m willing to bet you're all wondering why I’ve called you here today…”

“Spit it out Cal, you woke me up from a nap for this.” Greez eyes the redhead grumpily, and you fight to hide a grin. Cere also looks mildly amused, if slightly impatient.

Cal rolls his eyes, but continues, “Cordova left a message, saying something very valuable to our quest is locked in a vault in the Zeffo caves. I found the vault today and it matches Cordova’s description, but we need two Force users to access it.” He nudges BD, and the little droid projects an image of the vault door. It’s massive, with gold decorations swirling across it, and two obvious indents in the ground on either side for said Force users.

Everyone’s gazes flit to Merrin’s empty chair. It’s without question she would have been the best fit for this mission. Her combat style complements Cal’s perfectly, and Cere is still hesitant to use the Force.

Realization strikes you, and you glance up to see everyone’s eyes are now trained on you. You begin to shake your head. “That’s a bad idea--”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll lead us directly to the vault. I have my saber, and you have your Force healing. Worst case scenario, you have to patch me up in the field.” That is definitely not the worst case scenario, but there are no other options. This mission is time-sensitive, and you can’t wait for Merrin to get back from Dathomir.

You fix him with a stern glare. “I will come. But--” You hold up a hand when Cal opens his mouth. “You have to stick with me. No disappearing and popping out to scare me, because I will get lost We go in, and we get out.“

“I wouldn--” Cal protests.

“You would.” You snap.

“Yeah, he would.” Cere agrees.

“Sounds like something you would do.” Greez nods.

BD beeps cheerily from its place in the center of the table, clearly in agreement with you.

Cal shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you cross your arms while staring him down. Yes he would.

“I need BD back here on the ship. I’m running diagnostics on the navigation programming, and I can’t do it alone.” Cere speaks up.

Cal hesitates. You understand; he never goes on missions without BD. The two are a package deal, but everything needs to be running at peak efficiency before you go to the Fort Inquisitorius. And there’s no way you’re willing to deal with a navigation error en route.

You speak up, “Yeah, it will be fine.”

Cal looks at you, “We need BD to unlock a shortcut. What happened to in and out?”

You wave him off, “We’ll take the scenic route. Cere needs BD back here, and we can manage without. We’ll have our comm units, it will be fine.”

---

Do you know that saying, “Famous last words?”

Yeah. You hadn’t realized just how famous those last words could be. It started when Cal realized he’d left his comm unit on the ship in the charging port. But it was fine, because you had yours. Until you dropped it into a puddle after tripping over a tree root.

The scenic route involved passing through the outskirts of a forest, and the terrain was a little trickier than you had been prepared to handle, obviously. So, commless and armed with a single lightsaber and two shared brain cells, you travel towards the entrance to the Zeffo caves.

A flower bush catches your eye. Its leaves are a shocking shade of red, with gorgeous blue flowers that seem to call you over to them. Cal keeps walking even as you stop and reach for the bush. You pluck the flower in the fullest bloom and turn it over in your hand, admiring the veins of deeper azure spider webbing across the petals.

Cal says your name behind you, “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get back before dark.”

Turning to face your companion, you tuck the blossom behind his ear and step back to admire how the blue contrasts against his hair. The word slips out almost without you noticing. “Cute.”

It’s almost comical how quickly his face blooms red. “Guh--”

“It’s a good look.” You reassure him quickly. “Adorable. Pretty. Cute.”

“--Thanks!” He ducks past you to the bush. “I’m just going to grab a seedling for Greez. He’ll like this one.” Cal grabs one of the large pods and breaks it open, removing a seed and sticking it into the pouch on his harness. “Okay, ready.”

But you’re distracted by the red pollen that explodes in a cloud around his head, dusting him with a fine mist that leaves scarlet traces on his face and shoulders. “What’s that?” You step forward and run a finger across Cal’s poncho, collecting the dust and rubbing it between your fingertips. You hesitate, then raise your hand to your face to smell the substance. The sickly sweet scent and underlying current of spicy musk sticks in your lungs. The back of your throat tickles, and you sneeze.

An echoing sneeze draws your attention. Cal leans against the flowering bush, one arm clamped over his nose as he sneezes over and over again. He glances up at you, coughing with watery eyes, “Wha--”

A spike of dread pierces through you. ‘Stars, was it poison?’ He won’t stop coughing, a dry rattle as his body tries in vain to purge the intruding red dust. You fall to your knees beside him. Panic fills your mind, blotting out logic and reason and you place your hands on his body, intent on Force healing him even though you don’t know what is wrong with him. Then, just as suddenly as the coughing started, it stops and silence rings through the trees.

“Cal!”

You're shoving your hand underneath his poncho in an instant to feel for his heartbeat. You hold your breath. You can’t feel a pulse. You scramble to rip his poncho off completely, dragging it over his limp shoulders and head. You shove your fingers against his throat again. There!

His heartbeat flutters delicately, beating a rapid tattoo against your fingertips. You allow yourself to breath. He’s alive. But his pulse is fast, too fast. You rip open his tunic, though you’re not entirely certain what it is you’re searching for.

Just as your fingers brush over his skin, Cal bolts upright with a gasp. “Wh-- where...?”

You swear you almost pass out from the relief that slaps you across the face. “Stars, I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry about the flower bu-- mmm!”

Cal smashes his lips onto yours, pushing you onto your back with the sheer force of the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, searching and probing and damnit you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you, this desperate. His hips jerk against yours with an unpracticed, aborted motion, dragging a very prominent erection against your body that makes you jerk back in surprise.

You push him away from him for a second, propping yourself up on your elbows as you search his face for some indication of… you don’t know what. But this isn’t like him. “Cal, what--?”

“Need you.” He groans, his hands roaming over your body without fear or shame and inspiring a wave of pleasure as he squeezes your breasts. “Maker, you feel so good. Smell so good.” You bite back a moan. This really isn’t the time, not in the middle of an Imperial occupied forest. But to be completely honest, he feels really good too.

You’d imagined this before. Well, not these exact circumstances, but the idea of being under Cal. You’d imagined the feeling of his hands scraping over your skin and squeezing your body wherever he would like. You’d imagined his lips on yours, and other places for sure. But you’d really only ever been able to envision Cal as a gentle lover, all quiet moans and hesitant movements and unsure expressions. But this rougher side? You moan raggedly against Cal’s mouth as he shoves a thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your clothed sex. This is amazing.

Streaks of heat flash through your body, converging between your legs. Everything is amplified, the sounds around you, the grass beneath your knees, the blueness of the sky overhead. But it all seems to pale when your attention lands on Cal, who’s more flushed than earlier. You feel the heat beneath your skin too, but he’s got to have it worse right now, because you’re not the one sweating like you’re stranded on a desert planet. Maker, the pollen was some kind of--

His name escapes your lips in a tiny whisper that morphs into a moan halfway through. You allow your head to fall back, and it thunks against the spongy moss across the ground, knocking you back to the present. Cal’s lost in you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he ruts weakly against your thigh.

You shake off the haze clouding your mind, crisis mode kicking into full gear. You have no comms, one horny Jedi, and a completely hopeless sense of direction. “Cal. We have to move.”

He whines high in the back of his throat. “No.” It’s almost pleading, but there is an undercurrent of steel that makes you pause.

“Cal. We’re out in the open. Troopers co-- could--” Stars, you can feel the lust pumping under your skin, so close to the surface that it could burst out at any second. But fear hovers on the edge of your mind, pressing in and suppressing the need to jump Cal and reminding you of the certain torture and death that would occur if you were caught.

Cal doesn’t seem to have any of the same restraints as you. His fingers are carding through your hair, “Just wanna feel you. Maybe more.” His teeth latch into your neck, and the dull pain pierces through the haze more firmly.

He got dosed more heavily with the pollen. You resist the urge to curse as you gently detangle from Cal and sit up, biting back a sigh of relief as his teeth leave your skin. “We have to find shelter.” You begin to look around, but all you can see is the forest. You need something better, a place where you can figure out what exactly is wrong with Cal. You try to stand.

“Noooo…” This isn’t going to work. You actually do curse this time. How are you supposed to find effective shelter while dragging a full grown man around hostile territory without compromising stealth, all while your libido is cottoning to the edge of your mind, clouding your judgment?

“Come here…” Cal’s arm wraps around your neck, dragging you back down to the ground even as you try to stand. Okay that’s enough.

“You’ll forgive me later, Cal.” You press your thumb to his forehead and concentrate. His skin is dry and burning to your touch, and your brow scrunches. That’s going to be an issue. You reach to tap into the Force, but you pause. Your Force connection is… foggy. That’s the only way you can describe it in words, but it’s muted and dimmer than usual.

Your Jedi Master taught you a metaphor for using the Force: a barrier exists between you and access to the Force. It’s a wall, and your mind must become like a sharpened sword to pierce through and reach the Force. You can feel the barrier, just as always, but it’s like a second layer exists around it. If the normal barrier is made of thin glass, the new layer is crafted from paper; it’s strange, and thicker than usual, but still easily pierced with extra… force if you can say that without making yourself laugh at the pun. You summon the strength and press your mental sword forward through the barrier.

Rest. Cal’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls asleep with a gentle exhale. He relaxes against you, and you relax in turn when you see the pained lines smooth out of his forehead. Jedi healing includes your own personal anesthesia on demand. It will keep him under for a little bit, though you can’t tell what kind of effect the pollen will have on the Force sleep.

Through some feat of the stars themselves, you struggle to your feet. Cal’s arm is looped around your neck, and you want nothing more than to just sink down to the ground again and give into the weakness and lust pulling at your legs, coaxing you to collapse and take your pleasure. And stars, Cal’s heavier than you expected him to be.

But you shake yourself awake. Can’t get distracted. You glance at Cal’s drooping head. He’s been strong for you this entire time. The least you can do is be strong now and find some shelter. But where?

Voices filter through the trees, and your head jerks up towards the sources.

“Yeah, she told me to take the bucket off, or she would charge the full payment and…” Stormtroopers. Kriffing hell.

“Come on.” You hiss underneath your breath. You gather your legs underneath your body and push. Your muscles scream in pain, but they ultimately obey and you stumble to your feet and begin to move away from the approaching voices. Cal is dead weight over your shoulders, pulling and urging you to rest. It would be so easy to give in, to sink back to the ground and let Cal do what he wants.

The trees blur together as you move through the forest. The stormtroopers’ voices are getting louder and you grit your teeth. You don’t know their patrol route. How are you going to avoid them? All you can do is place one foot in front of the other. Then the mossy ground turns to stone underneath your feet, and you slow. Caves. Perfect.

You hurry inside, fatigued legs forgotten in your relief. There’s a bend directly beyond the mouth of the cave, and you gently lay Cal against the wall. You’re completely hidden from anyone looking from the entrance. You sit opposite him, your head falling forward to sag against your chest. Now what?

Your comm unit is busted, and Cal’s is sitting back on the Mantis, so you can’t contact the crew. You hold a hand to Cal’s forehead. His temperature is getting worse. You don’t know what infected him, so your Force healing is out of the question. The only bright spot is you’re pretty sure the stormtroopers won’t find you. They’re not exactly recruited for their brains, and you’ll be able to sense their muted Force signatures if they get close.

Speaking of…

You trail off, contemplating Cal’s unconscious face. His head sags against the rock wall and there’s a line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow is finally relaxed, his breathing deep and even and it strikes you that this is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

You reach out through the Force. It has become a habit for you, Merrin, and Cal to find peace in each others’ Force signature. Whether nightmares or difficult missions, the others would be there as a silent comfort.

Merrin’s is a mixture of whites and creams swirling against a dark maroon background. When she uses her Force magic, there is an unmistakable green tinge through it. Hers is powerful, with a sense of underlying safety in her strength. True to form, Merrin has been a protector figure in the Mantis.

But Cal’s is more diverse, a blend of warm colors against a grey background with blue tinging the edge. But while the colors are chaotic, Cal keeps a firm hold on his Force presence at all times, never allowing it to surge violently from emotion. He does not suppress it completely anymore, but you know he has the ability to make it nearly disappear from the senses of another Force user. You should know, because you can do the same. Merrin grew up without fear of having to hide her Force sensitivity, but you and Cal survived the Purge. You both have firm grasps of your thoughts and emotions projected through the Force. So in Cal, you found a kindred spirit that understands you better than almost any other person in the galaxy could. You’ve become more familiar with his presence than even your Master’s before the Purge.

But now, your brow furrows as you search for his Force presence over and over, pushing into every crevice of the surrounding environment without violating his privacy. You’re not mistaken. It’s gone, almost as if he has been turned into a droid before your eyes. Every living thing has a Force presence, no matter how minute. But Cal’s comforting whirl of light is gone, vanished as though he is no longer connected to the--

Cal’s eyes fly open and he sits forward with a quiet gasp. You jump. It’s worn off then. You secure his body with the Force, holding him loosely so as not to cause any lasting damage. You would have to tackle the Force connection problems later.

“I need you to focus.” He pushes against the bonds with a whimper, and you bite your lip as you struggle to hold him still.

“Cal!” Your Force bind tightens, and he stills with a grunt. “Talk to me. Fight through it.”

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every-- ah! Everything. Can’t-- can’t th-think. Only thing-- makes it better… you.”

What? Your concentration lapses and the bonds loose. He lunges forward and buries his nose into your neck again, inhaling you as his hands scrabble at your clothes. “Hurts less with you. Smell so good--soft. Please?”

Stars, you can’t think straight with him touching you like this. You bite back a moan as his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your shirt. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to give in. Just for a little. Indulge, and then you can figure out a way back to the Mantis. Then Cal raises your shirt and licks a long stripe up your neck, and that’s all the convincing you need.

You melt into his mouth, your hands running under his shirt and harness. His chest is just as feverishly hot as his forehead, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he swings a leg over yours so he’s hovering over you, knees planted on either side of your body. His hands shove your shirt over your head before setting to work on the button of your pants. You raise your hips to allow him to pull your pants under your butt. Your own hands yank at his clothes, silently begging him to strip with you.

But he doesn’t. He kneels between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds.

“Cal--!” You’re cut off as he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking against your clit at the end. Your stomach muscles contract, and it’s all you can do to keep quiet as he licks deep into your core.

---

The world is blurred. It’s like something crawled into his head and messed with his brain, dragging his focus away from more important issues… he can’t seem to remember right now. He can’t even feel the Force. His connection is compromised, the colors of the world are off, and there’s this bone deep ache within his body urging him closer to you. And as he’s drinking in your taste, the pain subsides and he can breathe again.

What is this? What’s happening to him? It has to be the pollen, it has to be its effect on his body, that’s why he’s lost all control over his mind and self. It’s why he can’t hold himself back from your body and you.

You’re all he can focus on; you’re so beautiful writhing under him as he tastes you. He’s never done this before. He can’t figure out why he hasn’t done this sooner, because you taste amazing right now and how you sound as he slides his tongue through your folds is doing things to him that he’s never experienced before.

His hips are dragging against the floor unintentionally. The friction of his dick against the rough material of his pants is a small slice of heaven, and he whimpers at the pure electricity spreading down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end so soon, but his body is shoving him towards the edge of release and the relief he knows is going to come with it.

---

A moan keens high in the back of your throat as Cal’s mouth presses against your soaked core. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but Maker if he doesn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. The only sounds coming from him are tiny moans and grunts and you shudder as his fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, leveraging them apart and holding them there firmly. Of their own will, your hips roll up into his face, chasing after his touch.

You’re completely unprepared for Cal to growl when you do so. His grip tightens, and you squeak as your thighs are spread even farther apart and his mouth completely envelopes your clit.

Is this what heaven feels like? You can barely manage coherent thought when his tongue is devastating you like this, but thequestion rotates around your lust dumb brain as your toes curl and your back arches. Your release rushes up and sweeps you away, your core clenching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. You hear Cal whine as you cum, and you hear your own moans as you ride out your orgasm.

---

Stars, why hadn’t he done this sooner? The sounds that he’s pulling out of you right now could make him come in his pants on the spot, and the taste of your release has him rutting against the ground all the more insistently as he chases his own high.

But he doesn’t want to come in his pants, he wants to be inside of you. He wants you, your body squeezing tight around him, to feel the wetness seeping around his tongue rather than tasting it, even if it tastes divine.

He grabs your hips and yanks you down so your crotch is flush to his. He nearly loses his mind when your soaked core meets the bulge in his pants. Fuck, he thought he could wait, but he can’t.

But--something is still off with the world’s coloring. Where is the Force? The comforting pressure is gone from the back of his mind, the constant reminder of balance that keeps him in tune with his emotions and surroundings. Panic edges around the perimeter of his mind. In an act of desperation, he reaches for the Force, searching for the whispers of memories that accompany his world. They’re gone. Where did they go?

You whisper his name again, and this time his eyes meet yours.

---

You watch Cal carefully. He’s flushed, trembling as he hovers over your body, hands bare centimeters away from your skin. His eyes are desperate, and you can feel the pain in them as clearly as if it was your own. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple to soak into the collar of his harness, and he fumbles to rip the rest of his clothing off, discarding it on the floor as though it burned against his flesh.

“Cal.” He looks back at you. “Take what you need.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Relief and something else flashes through his eyes before he looks back down and fumbles with his pants fastening. His cock is flushed dark red, and his hands tremble as he pulls it out of his pants, jaw clenched as he lines up with your entrance. He slides into you with a bone-deep sigh of relief, and you cry out at the stretch. Every inch sparks pure electricity up your spine, and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out, and for a heart stopping moment you feel a connection to him you couldn’t describe in words. Your hips roll against his, grinding the head of his cock up against something heavenly. Light explodes behind your eyes at the movement, arching your back and curling your toes.

Cal chokes, a beautiful sound you’ve only heard a few times before; the one that sounds like its been pulled from the deepest parts of his being, like he’s just ascended to another plane above the physical. It’s gorgeous and so insanely hot you’re completely unprepared for his sudden movement when he lunges forward.

Cal’s hand shoots out and presses against your neck, effectively pinning your upper body to the hard ground. You inhale shakily through your nose, but his grip does nothing more than hold you. You can still breathe, but the pressure on your throat sends a shock of heat between your legs with the reminder of the control you just relinquished.

“Stop that.” His other arm slams onto the stone beside your head, and your eyes lock. Cal’s pupils are blown, so dark you can almost see your reflection in the dim light of the cave as he glares down at you.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he drags his hips away from yours, inch by painstaking inch and rocks back into your body with an easy roll of his hips. He exhales gently as he bottoms back out inside of you, a low moan rumbling out of his throat when he reaches that same depth within your heat.

It’s the eye of a storm; a hurricane you hadn’t known you’d entered. He rocks back and forth again, only there’s fractionally more force and speed to the motion this time. Again, and your body shakes with the force. Another, and you have to bite your lip to stifle the scream when he slams back into your body. It’s like the tide, coming in gradually, but more and more with each passing moment. The force swells, each thrust pushing into you a little harder and making your body shake a little more with each thrust.

A shuddering groan rumbles out of him as he finds the rhythm. The hand not pressed delicately around your throat slams down on the rock next to your head. When you look up towards the cave ceiling, Cal’s flushed skin and tousled hair fills your vision.

His hair, which is usually swept out of his eyes. Cal’s hair has always been so well cared for, usually brushed and slicked back so it doesn’t dangle in his eyes. Now, it’s soaked with sweat and falling into his face as he stares down at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

---

Take what you need? Holy stars, he can barely think enough to comprehend it, but some inner part of him aches at the sentence.

As soon as he realized his heart jumped every time you smiled at something, or that his brain short circuited at the sound of your laugh, he’d sworn he would keep it under wraps. He’d promised himself he would wait until after the galaxy finishes imploding and collapsing around your heads. The first time he’d jerked off to the idea of your body, he vowed to satisfy himself with his hand until it was safe. He’d wait until after the holocron is safe and there’s nothing to worry about, because relationships are messy and complicated and--

Fuck, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that promise, because how can he regret being balls deep in you while you’re whining and squirming underneath him, when you look at him with such trust even as he pins you to the floor by your throat? His eyes gravitate to the mark on your neck, red and irritated with the indent of his teeth, and he feels his cock twitch even as he continues to pound into you. He likes that.

The promise didn’t keep his eyes from wandering to your face at any opportunity. It didn’t prevent the pressure in his chest from growing over the weeks and months. It definitely didn’t keep Cere and Greez from noticing, and that was a conversation he would rather have scrubbed from his mind.

Take what you need. That one sentence is spinning his world on its metaphorical finger. Take what you need. As if he didn’t want it, but he needed to do it. In all honesty, it had really felt like he was going to die. The burning in his throat that caused the coughing fit, then the racing heart and the overheating; he thought he wasn’t going to make it unless he--

Well, unless he fucked you.

But even if he needs it, he wants it even more, had wanted it for too long. But everytime an opportunity presented itself, he pulled back. He remembers how he threw away the flowers he gathered on the mission instead of bringing them back to you on the Mantis. He remembers every time he denied spending time with you, because his emotions were too raw and close to the surface, and he couldn’t predict his control over his own tongue. Because he didn’t think he could have handled it if you didn’t want him back.

But you had offered to help. Maybe you’d wanted it too, because the whole galaxy could be shoving you in one direction and you would defy it. Nothing can make you do anything you didn’t want to, and that applies to Cal Kestis too.

---

Your orgasm swells up sharp and sudden, gripping you in its claws and shoving you into the attack of muscle spasms and searing pleasure that punches into your abdomen. Your body arches, accidentally hitting your head against the ground.

Cal’s rhythm stutters and his hips jerk forward. His hand leaves your throat as he drops to his forearms. His head drops down to press against yours gently, even as he whimpers and continues to grind forward into your soaking heat.

“Fuck.” Cal gasps, eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.”

There’s no time to respond before he’s drawing up and tensing against you. His hips piston in and out once, then he’s cumming and all you can do is lie there and take it. Fuck that’s hot.

You can feel him spilling into you, every warm spurt of cum and every twitch of his cock as he spends himself. Even better is the drawn out groan that trails into his upper register, ending in a tiny whimper. The tension drains out of his face and he sags down, sweaty skin pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your body and he hoists your limp body up as he rolls over. He sits against the wall of the cave, seating you on his lap, cock still firmly buried inside you.

You allow your head to sag back against his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed so closely to yours. His hand paws weakly at the fabric of your shirt, and you raise your arms to slide it off. It’s better like this, skin to skin contact seems to calm him down. He buries his nose into your bare neck and mumbles something you can’t make out.

You nudge your head against his gently, “Hm?”

“Thank you.” His lips ghost over the delicate juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Thank you thank you thank you...” He continues to mutter the phrase into your skin, tickling your skin as he nuzzles closer to you.

You should say something. Confess, maybe, everything you’ve been hiding. “Cal, I--” You shift slightly, and something feels off. You furrow your brow and glance downwards at your joining point, “Cal are you still hard?”

He props his chin on your shoulder. “Uh--” He thrusts shallowly up into you, and you stifle a whimper. “Ye-yeah. Sorry?”

“N--” You gasp as his cock twitches. “No. Don’t be sorry. Do you need to go again?” Arousal stirs in your core again, burning a slow path through your nerves and reigniting the flames that had dulled to embers. Your breath catches in your chest and you grind your hips back into his.

“I--I think so.” His voice is strained and his breath comes in short gasps next to your ear. “Not-- not as-- as bad though.”

“That--ah!” Cal chooses that exact moment to pick a spot on your neck and latch on. He nips at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands, roughened with callouses from his saber, climbing, and tinkering, scrape over your skin with just the right amount of friction. You bite your bottom lip. “That’s fine. Should I move?”

His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place. That’s a no then. His hips rock up into yours gently, and you feel your cheeks warm at the wet sounds of your combined release. Cal grunts, “Let me.”

So you do. You lie back against his bare chest and just take what he gives you, whimpering whenever he brushes against that spot inside you that sends electricity up your spine. You’re gripping his arms so hard you’re sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of your fingers.

---

Stars, you’re fucking perfect. Just lying here and giving yourself to him. He can feel the Force dimly, but it’s there. The pollen is leaving his system as he slowly fucks you on a cave floor in the middle of a dense forest while stormtroopers patrol outside.

You cry out with his next thrust, the head of his cock striking something inside of you that must feel good because you clench around him and--

Did you just come again?

The additional lubrication only increases the lewd squelch with every thrust, the mixture of his cum and yours only making sliding in and out of your channel easier. He can still feel the effects of the pollen at the back of his mind, and it keeps him hard and sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

He’s aware he should be at least a little worried about the implications, starting at the top with how he’s going to complete the mission and ending with what exactly fucking on a cave floor means for your relationship. Somewhere in the middle is the stormtroopers and the pollen, and the oath of the Jedi Order forbidding relationships. But he can’t grasp it.

Even if there are more pressing concerns, all he can do right now is continue pushing his hips up into your soaking core painstakingly slowly. He wants to enjoy this while he can, while he’s able to fool himself that you want him back. Unless…

---

The only solace you could find in the situation was that you could have Cal, even for these few short moments. Because as much as you may want to convince yourself, a tiny voice inside your head keeps whispering: it’s all the pollen. That’s the only reason why he wants you. And you force yourself to believe the voice, because it’s easier to block off any chance for pain and rejection.

But you know you’re in trouble the second Cal opens his mouth. The words are a harsh whisper, rasping out of his dry throat into your ear, “Beautiful. So gorgeous, giving me what I need, what I want.”

You arch against him and stifle the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His mouth is right next to your ear, so there isn’t anywhere for you to escape from the words that rumble into your brain; words you try to convince yourself are empty. You shove your hand against your mouth rather than allow any sound to escape.

He moans, “Want to do this again. Don’t want this to be just once.”

“Th--that--that’s the pollen talking.” You gasp when you feel his fingers graze over your clit, your own hand drifting back to latch into his hair.

Cal hisses when you tug with a little more strength than necessary, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. One hand supports your weight as he moves you up and down on his dick, the other rubbing little circles around your clit. His hips make up for the lost strength everytime they drive up into you at the lowest point of the rhythm, squelching with every thrust.

“Not--not the pollen. All you. All me.”

You blink, all temporarily forgotten when the words register in your hazy mind. “...What?”

“Wanted this. Wanted this for a while.” Cal finds your clit with his fingers, and you can’t prevent the way your legs jerk and your body seizes against his.

Fuck you’re going to cum. If the first orgasm was a flashfire, this one is a slowly simmering blaze. It creeps up slowly, burning a hole through your abdomen, curling around your ribs and inching down your legs. Your eyes roll back, and your head falls back against Cal’s shoulder.

“Cal. I--I thi--” You try to warn him, you really do. But words aren’t forming correctly right now, and it’s all you can do to hunker down and try to prepare yourself for this truly devastating crest that’s preparing to launch you over the edge.

If Cal gets your warning, he doesn’t show it. All he does is turn his head to the side, press a light kiss to your cheek, and groan, “I think I love you.”

Oh shit. Cal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he planned it. Before you can respond, hell, before you can even begin to fucking process that last sentence, you’re coming hard. Maybe it’s the whiff of pollen you got earlier, or the fact that Cal is the one fucking you so sweetly and thoroughly, or the thrill of being mere steps away from discovery, or a combination of all of it, but this orgasm certainly feels like the most intense of your life.

Spasms ripple outward through your belly, curling you up in Cal’s lap as you ride out your high. Your legs straighten and your toes curl and you clamp down hard around Cal’s cock.

Cal shouts raggedly in your ear, pulling your body close. But even as you whimper and shake on the end of his cock, you remember that you can’t make too much sound.

As if he heard you, Cal burrows his face into your shoulder, his teeth once again finding a place in your skin to muffle his voice as he cums deep inside you once more. His body shakes as he spends himself again, the spasms slowly subsiding with every jerk of his hips into yours.

‘I did hear you.’ There’s a tinge of amusement to the nonexistent voice that echoes in your mind, and you relax back against Cal.

‘Feeling better?’ You nudge him back through the Force, revelling in the feeling of his colorful presence swirling around you once again. The pollen has worn off.

He doesn’t say anything in response, only pulls you close with his arms around you. His mind pushes at yours, and you let him in. You’ve done this a million times, usually on the tail end of nighttime panic attacks, but this time is different. This is the most loose he has ever been with his Force presence, and you allow it to fill the empty parts of your mind. Wait, he loves you?

He rushes over you in the same way the tide comes back to land, calming your fear at finally understanding the weight of his last confession. He’s relaxed, and the familiar energy has a new angle to it, a new emotion you hadn’t felt before in another’s Force signature. You grasp it gently, turning it over and admiring it in the eye of your mind. What is it?

The answer rushes to you just as Cal mutters against your skin, “Love.” The same thing you’d been feeling in the pit of your heart every time you looked at Cal, everytime he kept you safe from the nightmares in his arms and stayed with you until morning, every time you made him tea and did maintenance on his gear after a tough mission.

“I love you.”

You blink up at the ceiling of the rock cave, mouth open with the words just on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come. The words are stuck in your throat, and try as you might, you can’t make yourself say them.

“Hey.” Cal whispers in your ear, and you shut your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. But you know that I do, and I know a little of what’s going on up here.” His finger taps the side of your head lightly. "You don't have to figure out where to go from here. I'll navigate."

‘Thank you.’ You send the words through the Force, and he acknowledges them. Yeah, you're shit at knowing where to go when it comes to feelings. But at least with Cal, you won't have to worry about getting lost alone. You sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, before a thought occurs to you.

“Cal.” His name is little more than a weak rasp off your tongue. You clear your throat and try again. “Cal.”

He grunts unintelligibly.

“Don’t bring that seed back to the Mantis.”

A/N: I will be the first to admit that this fic was hard, because I wanted to incorporate some previous feelings into this to make it less dubcon, and I didn't feel that all plot holes were filled. But that didn't make this any less enjoyable for me, and it was fun to explore a new facet of Cal's character.

Thanks for everyone who gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pushing this through the old brain up here. Smut isn't the easiest for me:)

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #sex pollen #pining fools #pining #fluff #feelings #smut

[starfinss]

Wingman — Akaashi Keiji

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Summary: Bokuto heard you like Akaashi and decides to be your wingman. It goes about as well as it sounds.

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Reader

Rating: Fluff, humor (SFW)

Word Count: 1,779

“Do you like Akaashi?”

You choked on your rice at Bokuto’s sudden question, sending you into a violent coughing fit as you pounded on your chest in an attempt to clear your throat.

“I’m sorry, what?!” You said once you could speak, taking a large swallow of water from your bottle.

Bokuto looked blankly at you, owlishly, which was sort of his default expression. “I asked if you liked Akaashi.”

You sent a glance to Yukie, who seemed to be trying her best to look innocent.

“Who,” you said pointedly, and you watched Yukie’s facade break, just a smidge, “told you something like that?”

Bokuto inclined his head in said girl’s direction. “Her.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Yukie, I told you not to tell anyone. And you told him of all people?”

A pause, then offense flashed across Bokuto’s face. “Hey!”

Yukie made a pained noise. “I’m sorry! It kind of just… slipped out. We were talking about how Akaashi never seems to date anyone, and I remembered what you told me and I just… I couldn’t stop talking!”

“No offense, Yukie, but Bokuto isn’t the best at keeping secrets.”

“Hey hey, I can keep secrets!”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, hands flattened against your temples.

“Okay, prove it by keeping this one. I haven’t told Akaashi because I’ve never seen him ever show me any sign that he feels the same.”

Bokuto took a large bite of his sandwich. “Just tell ‘im anyway. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You sighed. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s disgusting. And I dunno, he could reject me?”

Bokuto swallowed loudly, a splitting grin growing on his face.

“Well, what about this, (L/N). How about I be your wingman? Ey?”

Your mind flooded with all the ways that idea could go wrong, and the bad outweighed the good.

“No. No, Bokuto—“

“Come on, (L/N), let me help! I know Akaashi better than anyone, we’re best friends! I wanna do this for you, come on, let me!”

Bokuto was relentless on and off the court, and he was hard to argue with. He did know Akaashi the best, you’d give him that, even while you were friends with the quiet setter as well. Being team manager with Yukie really did have its perks.

And Akaashi really was too pretty for his own good.

You could benefit from Bokuto’s help, even if something would undoubtedly go terribly wrong in the process.

“Fine,” you relented, resulting in loud cheers, the sounds drawing the attention of the people eating lunch around you.

You exchanged a weary look with Yukie.

“I hate you,” you said, and she smiled.

“I know.”

Your eyes flicked back to Bokuto, who was bouncing in his seat.

“I have a plan.”

You put another bite of rice in your mouth. If this was going to be as insane as you thought it was going to be, you’d need a full stomach.

“Tell me.”

————————

Bokuto’s plan was horrible.

The first one he gave you involved you just walking up and kissing Akaashi, but your use of some choice language in response to that made Bokuto change tactics.

“Go into a closet—“

“No.”

“I could lock—“

“Bo!”

He groaned. “Let me talk!”

“Then stop giving me plans that could result in me being utterly humiliated!”

“Fine! Then try this. Just get him alone after practice and ask him to walk you home.”

You frowned. “We do that every day anyway. We live two houses apart.”

“Toss him some sets!”

Yukie made a frustrated noise. “I’m going to lock you in the club room.”

You gave her a fearful look. “Me?”

“No. Bokuto. But maybe you if we can’t come up with something.”

You closed your now empty lunch box. “So you’re in on this too, now?”

She grinned. “I’ve always been in on this.”

Anger simmered in the pit of your stomach. “Did you tell him on purpose?”

“What?” Yukie said, then paled. “No. That really was an accident. All I’m saying is I support you.”

“Well,” you sighed, “that’s something, I guess.”

“Lock you in the club room!” Bokuto cried, and the expression on his face coupled with the triumphant tone in his voice made it seem very much like he’d struck gold.

You paused. “What?”

“I was joking, Bo,” said Yukie.

“No, but it could work!”

It could. But you were pretty sure Akaashi had a key, so it would be kind of useless to put him in a situation he could easily get out of. And, to further this, you also had a key. Bokuto pouted when you relayed this to him.

“Come on, (L/N), let me be your wingman!”

You rolled your eyes. “Isn’t that what I’m doing? All you’re giving me is stuff like ‘lock yourself in a closet.’”

“It could work!”

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period, and you stood up, stretching your arms above your head.

“I’ll see you guys at practice,” you said, “text me if you get any new ideas.”

————————

Practice was somewhat of a nightmare. Of course, it went as well as it usually did, the gym full of Bokuto’s victorious shouts and Akaashi and the other club member’s sarcastic quips. But that wasn’t the problem. Every time something needed to be fetched or the water needed to be refilled, either Yukie or Bokuto, usually with matching grins, suggested you go with Akaashi. Akaashi, of course, shut this down fairly quickly since he had no need to assist you with such menial tasks.

But Bokuto didn’t stop there, no. It was too much to hope a hurricane would stop in its path.

Because during a break, Akaashi approached you.

“Is there any reason why Bokuto is constantly asking me to compliment you?”  He said as he dried his face with a towel.

You furrowed your eyebrows, dread sinking into the pit of your stomach. “He’s doing what?!”

“Asking me to-“

“No, I heard you. I just can’t believe he’s doing that.”

Akaashi blinked, oblivious to the situation. “Is there a problem, (L/N)?”

You sighed. “Yeah. No, I don’t know. This is a mess.”

From what Akaashi told you, Bokuto had started showering you with random compliments, then asked Akaashi if he agreed.

“I just want to know why he’s doing that. Do you think he has a crush on you?”

You shook your head. “No. This is… It’s something else. I don’t really want to talk about it, sorry Akaashi.”

He looked worried all of a sudden. “Is there something wrong?”

Your eyes went wide. “No! I’m fine, really. I just— I can’t talk about it.”

“Why?” Bokuto said, strolling over, and you deflated, “do you not trust him?”

“Bo,” you warned, speaking between gritted teeth, “not. Now.”

“Isn’t this what winging is?”

Akaashi looked deeply confused. “Winging? What is that supposed to mean? Did you make up a word for spiking?”

Bokuto seemed affronted. “No! I’m her… Her man wing—“

“It’s called wingman, Bo,” you muttered.

He was going to give you away.

“Tell him, (L/N), he thinks you’re pretty, smart-“

Akaashi blinked. “You asked me what I thought about that, Bokuto.”

Bokuto faked shock. “So you don’t really think those things?”

“I never said I didn’t.”

Bokuto gave a squawk you could only assume was a cry of victory. “See? See, (L/N) Akaashi thinks you’re pretty! You gotta tell him, tell him now!”

You looked at Bokuto with pure murder in your eyes, and he seemed to falter.

“Tell me what?!”

“Akaashi!” You cried, “talk to me outside, would you?”

You looked sharply at Bokuto.

You buried your head in your hands once you were outside. “ I might as well just come out and say it, because we both know Bokuto isn’t about to quit. That massive meathead is trying to be my wingman because he found out I like you today.”

You sent Yukie a murderous look as she passed the open door, raising your voice a bit as you spoke. “Because someone told him.”

She looked sheepish.

You closed the door, only breaking eye contact with her when you couldn’t keep in anymore due to the new barrier between you.

“Well, that’s fine,” Akaashi said, “I like you, too.”

You worried your lip between your teeth. “I understand if— Wait what?”

Akaashi looked at you blankly. “I like you too, (L/N).”

You were at a loss for words. “You never gave me any signs that you liked me too.”

Akaashi leaned against the door. “I walk you home every night.”

You frowned. “We’re literally neighbors.”

“That’s beside the point. Why do you think I bring you breakfast to eat while we walk to school?”

You blushed. “I thought you were being nice.”

“No,” Akaashi stepped forward, letting his hands fall to your shoulders, “no, (L/N). I like you. You’re an incredible person, and I thought I was making myself clear with my advances.”

Well, you decided, you were a dumbass.

“Wanna… Go get something to eat sometime?” You asked, voice quiet, and Akaashi nodded.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He kissed you, and you swear you forgot how to breathe, that you forgot your own name. You sighed softly, reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair. Akaashi was an intense young man, and kissing him, even if it was simple and innocent, was just as intense. You felt him wrap his arms around your waist with a heartbreaking tenderness, nose brushing yours as his lips pressed and ghosted against your own.

It was cold outside, but you didn’t care, not when his lips were so soft and gentle.

The door opened abruptly and you heard a shout that could only have belonged to Bokuto. You felt Akaashi smile against your mouth before he pulled back.

“I am the best wingman!” He cried, “Hey, hey, hey!”

You laughed. It felt good to laugh, especially when Akaashi was still holding you so close.

“You are, Bo,” you confirmed, resulting in more cheering.

“Akaashi got a girlfriend!” He shouted as he ran inside, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Is that what you want to be?” Akaashi asked, and you nodded.

“Yes.” You were unable to hide your grin.

“Then it’s official.” Akaashi kissed your nose, then stepped back.

“I will hold your hand when we walk home.”

You blushed at his bluntness. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Nice pun!” You heard Yukie shout, and you groaned.

“I hate both of you!”

You didn’t. But the smile that ghosted Akaashi’s lips as you said the words was worth it.

So was the burning kiss he gave you after practice, and the feeling of his hand in yours as you walked home.

Maybe having Bokuto’s help, as disastrous as it had been, wasn’t so bad after all.

#akaashi fluff #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi keiji #haikyuu!! #hq #told you to expect this #fluff #I should make a masterlist #hq x reader #kotarou bokuto #shirofuku yukie #Wingman #I decided that Bokuto would either be an amazing wingman or a terrible one #we went somewhere in the middle #he got the job done #akaashi x reader #My writing #fanfiction #haikyuu x reader

[pigeonp0st]

could u do nat taking care of r when r gets sick (pretty please i beg of u)? preferably lots of cuddles 🥺🥺

idk i just love soft!nat 🥺

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #5

Words: 1,689

Warnings: none?

Notes:

I didn’t really like how this one turned out but i’ve finally decided that staring at it in my drafts with disappointed isn’t gonna make it any better...so here it is. Thank you for requesting, and sorry for spelling mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

———

It started with a cold. Just a couple of sneezes, a runny nose, and a sore throat...the usual.

It started out with you trying your best to hide it. Hide the sickness. That plan went under the moment Natasha heard you sneeze during training... she had you confessing to your sins much too quickly.

Suffice to say she immediately kicked you out of the training area with demands to take some medicine.

So she was the first to realize that you were sick, and she was the first to realize you were getting worse instead of better. She’d pester you endlessly when you wouldn’t want to talk about it, and watch over you like a hawk.

It was sweet, but you also didn’t think it was necessary. You were sure you’d be fine in three or so days.

How wrong you were.

When you wake up with a 103° fever for the third day in a row it has you layed in bed for the whole day groaning about the inequalities of the world, and begging Natasha not to get a doctor for the 100th time.

You were fine. Totally fine.

Natasha watches you with a mix of amusement and concern from the corner of the room and suggests, gently, that maybe you’re not.

You peak over your covers to glare at her in something like betrayal. “I’d be fine if you’d stop pacing and come cuddle with me.”

She seems to think about her options for a long moment and right when you think she’s going to reject you she relents with a heavy sigh and gets into the bed.

She’s so blissfully cold it has you snuggling into her side immediately, both to warm her up and use her as your own personal ice pack.

“You’re burning up,” Natasha whispers, but she pulls you closer to her—like somehow if she’s close enough she can absorb some of your pain and make you feel just that little bit better. “If your fever rises even a little bit we’re going to the doctors, okay?”

She’s concerned and worried, and even though a stranger fussing over you is the last thing you want you know you have to give her this.

As soon as you nod your head in agreement some of the tension seeps out of her body, much to your relief. As ridiculous as it is, you’re worried about her worried about you—if that makes sense.

“Around 100,000 people died from the flu in 2019,” Natasha mumbles against your forehead. She adds quietly after a moment, “just in case you were wondering.”

You were not wondering. What the fuck.

“Nat...that statistic is mostly old people.”

“Yeah,” Nat agrees, “you’ll be fine.”

And despite your body's protest, and how much of a pain it is to pull away, you do, just so you can give Natasha an incredulous look so she knows just what you think about what she’s doing right now.

Her face is unexpectedly vulnerable when you see it. She isn’t trying to bother you...she’s just…she’s worrying herself crazy.

“Nat,” you sigh, ready to embark on the most comforting and articulate speech you can think of, but a sudden fit of coughs has you turning away hurriedly to muffle your face in a pillow.

When your lungs finally decide to stay in your body for now, and Natasha stops rubbing your back, you’re too tired to try and comfort her, so instead you mumble, on the verge of sleep, “if I die; just know I love you.”

Which, in hindsight, probably doesn’t help much.

But she doesn’t sound worried when she replies, just exasperated and fond. “I love you, too.”

———-

When you wake up again it’s to a bunch of kisses and beautiful red hair.

“Stop attacking me,” you grumble, trying to push her away, but you're not able to hide your smile. God, you love your badass (soft) girlfriend.

“Look who's not dead!”

Remembering your last words to her before you went to sleep has you finally opening your eyes and giving Nat a sheepish smile. Oops. “Look who really wants to get sick…”

“My immune system is stronger than yours,” Natasha scoffs, shoving both your medicine at you and a bottle of water.

“Asshole,” you mumble, moving to open the medicine bottle only to get stopped by a hand on your wrist. “What?”

“You need to eat first.”

Thus, starts the trip towards death.

————

“Oh my god, how much farther is it…”

Your fever is finally down and back to safer levels so naturally Natasha has insisted that you’re able to go to the kitchens yourself and sit outside to eat.

You need fresh air, she said.

The room is getting stuffy, she said.

It’ll be good for you, she said.

What a fucking devil.

“You’re literally the most dramatic person to ever grace this earth,” Natasha tells you for only the millionth time since the journey began. “Maybe if you stopped sliding against the wall and crawling on the floor like you got shot three times we’d get there faster.”

“Maybe if you’d help me—”

“I tried! But apparently i’m ruining your image.” She rolls her eyes when she says that, then turns away to grin like she thinks you won’t notice.

You’re a whipped idiot who's decided to make a complete full of yourself and waste what little energy you have just to get your girlfriend to laugh, and to prove to her that you’re doing better.

You’re definitely going to regret this later, but now, in the moment; This is totally worth it. No doubt.

————

Wanda is in the kitchen.

As soon as you see her you straighten up and stop leaning on the wall (and limping). Natasha laughs next to you when she notices.

“You’re doing better, Y/N?” Wanda asks, glancing over you before returning back to the soup she’s making. For you. She’s making soup for you.

You adore her. She’s your favorite person, she’s—

“Not your girlfriend,” Wanda interjects, amused, “and doing this as a concerned teammate, and because your girlfriend asked.”

“Yes, well I love you anyways. Your cooking has gotten very good,” you say, shooting her a grin while you practically bounce to the dining chair, in stark contrast to the way you were dragging yourself down the halls.

Natasha does a good job at trying to not look confused, but she clearly is. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Wanda informs her before you get the chance to.

“Favorite person for making you soup?” Natasha asks once Wanda’s done relaying your thoughts. She narrows her eyes at you then. “Not the person who has been taking care of you since you became an avenger, not the person who—”

“It’s very good soup, Nat.”

“Very,” Steve agrees from the living room.

Natasha sighs, takes a sniff of the soup, and resigns herself to the facts she’s faced with. “Yeah...it is.”

——-

“Close your mouth,” Natasha orders, tapping your chin. You listen, waiting patiently for the beep of the thermometer to signal it’s done.

When it does, Natasha pulls it back to study it. There’s a small lapse of anxious silence before Natasha reveals the results. Then...“Ninety-Nine. You’re officially a healthy woman.”

And with that, you’re finally free of the bed rest and able to walk the halls as a newly restored human being.

“I’m free,” you shout, tackling Natasha onto the bed and kissing her all over her face, completely overjoyed. “Natasha, I survived!”

You survived. It only took an exhausting week. When your fever went down a couple of days ago it spiked to 105° a bit after and you were sure you were going to suffocate in Natasha’s worry because of it. You had to go to the medical room...it was awful.

But now Nat laughs, and laughs, and then pulls you into a tight hug to stop all of the kissing. She seems to be unburdened and lighter now that she finally has the numbers she’s wanted.

“Loving you as much as I do is really just living in this constant state of worry and fear,” Natasha says when you’ve both settled down. “I do not like things being out of my control,” she admits, kissing the crown of your head. “Especially when it involves my heart.”

“Your heart,” you repeat, curious. “Is that what I am?”

“Ignoring the worry and fear part?” Natasha teases, quirking an eyebrow.

“We both know those feelings are accompanied with a multitude of good and beautiful emotions. I feel them too.”

Natasha smiles then, soft and gentle, and full of admiration. “Yes.”

You tilt your head. “Yes...what?”

“Yes, you are my heart. Or at least you feel like you are.”

At that, with a determination and seriousness that visibly shocks Natasha you say, “i’ll protect it. I’ll protect myself, and because you're mine also, I'll help protect you. Always.”

“Always,” Natasha agrees, her fingertips trailing across your cheek. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, embarrassed suddenly, “of course.”

————

“Are...are you serious?”

Natasha scowls into her tea and says nothing in response. This is fucking hilarious.

Your lovely girlfriend doesn’t seem to think so because the second she sees your face struggling not to laugh she begins glaring at you. “Don’t,” Nat warns. “Don’t you fucking dare—”

“I seem to recall you saying, and I quote, ‘my immune system is stronger than yours.’” You grin. “Oh how ironic this is.”

“I’m not sick—”

“Aw, but baby, the amount of tissues on the floor seem to be saying otherwise,” you gesture towards the growing pile, feeling absolutely no sympathy until Natasha glances at the pile with a sigh of defeat. She looks so small and sad covered in her pile of blankets...it simply won’t do. “Don’t fret, my love. I will take care of you, just as you took care of me,” you assure her, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“First things first,” you tilt her chin up, “i’ll get Wanda to make you some soup so you can take some medicine.”

“I hate the world,” Natasha grumbles, mumbling some curses in russian.

“I love you, too.”

#marvel x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #black widow #black widow x y/n #black widow x you #fem reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha imagine #natasha x y/n #nat x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #marvel x female reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #female reader #imagine #black widow imagine #x y/n

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: Pt 44 - Meeting

Park Choa was great at hiding her orgasms.

Perhaps it was experience borne from all those afternoons when you bent her your desk while you pounded her from behind, your office door open the whole while. Or when you pressed her against the wall of a bathroom stall and pinned her against it with your cock, even as your colleagues stepped in and out of the bathroom unaware of what was going on in one of the stalls just a few feet away. Or when she sat on the conference room table, legs spread atop it while you devoured her slick, dripping pussy even as your fellow employees held a conversation in the hallway just past the open door. 

Regardless of how she learned how to do it, her ability to appear normal and unbothered, even as an orgasm coursed through her veins, was admirable - on top of being a wicked delight to watch.

From the point of view of the laptop’s webcam, only the white knuckle fist made by her small, pale hand and the slight blush of pink on her cheeks betrayed the fact that wave after wave of pleasure was wracking her senses. 

Only from your point of view, sitting next to her, could one see that the blush on her cheeks extended to her quivering, trembling thighs - spread widely to allow Kim Dahyun enough room to press her pale, cute little face against her colleague’s dripping pussy. Choa’s other hand strokes the younger girl’s hair almost lazily, as though she hadn’t just brought her to an orgasm that she was only barely managing to hide.

“Officer Douma has informed us that Rose will be extradited to Canada, where she’ll face the charges that have been levelled against her,” you state to the other participant of the meeting, who, thankfully for you and Choa, was in an entirely different country. “Rose will be transported to Haneda International by Officers Douma and Miyawaki two days from now. Officer Miyawaki will inform me the second she’s on the plane.”

“That’s good news,” JYP answers from the laptop screen. From the serious expression on his face you knew he had no idea of what was going on beneath the table. “Were you able to get any leads from Rose before she was taken away?”

“Yes. We were able to get the location of Blackpink’s Japanese safehouse. Rose denied any involvement with Seulgi or Yeri, but she implied that Blackpink is aware of their presence in Japan, and we expect to find leads on them when we make contact with the remaining Blackpink members.”

JYP takes a moment to digest your news, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Next to you Dahyun lifts her head from between Choa’s thighs, her own chin glistening with the older girl’s juices. Her tongue darts out to lick the slick wetness from her lips, a smile appearing on her face as she savors her colleague’s sweet, tangy taste on her palette.

“Proceed carefully,” JYP states after a short silence, “the safety of you and your team is paramount. I want you to leave any dangerous on-site activities to the law enforcement officers.”

“Understood,” you reply, understanding JYP’s reluctance to place you or your team in danger given the events of the past month.

“On a much lighter note, I think we have the head of our European offices to thank for her role in Rose’s capture!” JYP states, turning to Choa with a wide, proud grin on his face.

Choa takes a moment to respond - a split second pause, and one JYP could likely chalk up to a momentary internet lag spike - but one you knew was caused by the fact that the flushed, blushing woman was still recovering from her post-orgasm haze.

“Y-yes, s-sir,” Choa answers, taking a moment to compose herself. “It was a small thing, really. It was you who hatched the plan.”

“Stil, without you informing us of Rose’s warrant in the Netherlands, the plan never could have happened. Job well done, Miss Park.”

“Thank you, s-sir,” Choa answers. You hazard a glimpse down beneath the desk to see that Dahyun had begun to clean the older woman’s thighs and crotch of her spilt juices, her pink tongue darting out in wide strokes to lick the slick wetness from the soft, flushed skin between Choa’s thighs.

“What are your next steps?” JYP answers, turning to you again. Next to you, Choa lets a soft sigh escape her lips, although she covers it up by faking a small cough shortly thereafter.

“We’re going to be setting up surveillance of the Blackpink safehouse,” you begin, “and we’ll proceed from there.”

“Okay. Remember - safety first. We’ve had enough close brushes with danger,” JYP replies. You nod, understanding his implication that one of your team members was currently still in Korea recovering from a gunshot wound.

“She tells me she’s doing much better,” you say. Jeongyeon had bombarded you with texts and calls regularly, wanting to know everything about what was going on with the team.

“She is. Seolhyun checks on her every day. She can walk on her own now, much to the chagrin of the nurses at the hospital. She disappears from her hospital room quite often, I’m told. Apparently she’s unsatisfied with the hospital’s wi-fi and is on the hunt for a better signal.”

The thought of Jeongyeon wandering the halls of the hospital holding up her laptop looking for a signal brought a smile to your face.

“She’s chomping at the bit to return to you and the team,” JYP continues. “Her doctors and I have tried to convince her that she should take a month or two away to recover, but she seems adamant in her desire to join you in Japan once she’s medically cleared.”

“We look forward to her return, but we trust you’ll be able to keep her from returning to duty before she’s ready, sir,” you state.

“I’ll do my best, but I don’t know if anything can stop that girl when she decides she wants to do something,” JYP answers, thoughtfully. “Anyway, I think that does it for the update. Keep up the good work and keep me in the loop of any new developments. I believe I’m to meet with Miss Kim next for a logistics and technology update?”

Miss Kim was currently on her knees licking the last of Choa’s juices from her thighs, but you make a show of pretending she was actually outside the room, ready and waiting to join the meeting.

“Yes, sir. I’ll call her in.”

JYP nods, giving you and Choa a last affirmative smile that you both return. Choa awkwardly pulls her short miniskirt down before she shuffles off camera; Dahyun, smartly, crawls on her knees to the other side of the table where she rises to her feet, wipes the last of Choa’s juices from her lips, and smooths out her dress before stepping into the shot, taking Choa’s seat to give off the impression she had just walked into the room.

“Hello, sir!” Dahyun greets, raising her hand and giving her boss a cute little wave, looking for all intents and purposes like she was shooting a commercial and hadn’t just spent the last twenty minutes tongue-deep in her colleague.

You move towards the office exit, smiling at the cute post-orgasm blush that still lingered on Choa’s cheeks. Your former executive assistant had grown her hair out to a shoulder length and dyed it a darker brown - far from the short blonde bob that was once her trademark. But her new haircut and less intense makeup style had given her a more mature, womanly look. Before, she was a cute little minx prancing around the office in a short miniskirt and tight white blouse - and while the short miniskirt and white blouse remained, the creature that filled it was a more experienced, more mature feline than the one that was your executive assistant.

Your hand reaches for the doorknob, but is stopped halfway there by Choa’s pale hand on your wrist. When you lock eyes with her you find a look you’d seen on many an afternoon.

She steps close, her hand travelling up your arm to squeeze a bicep. She brings her mouth to your ear, whispering low enough to ensure that neither Dahyun nor JYP could hear.

“I think we might need an afternoon meeting to… debrief, don’t you agree, sir?”

You could feel from the movement of her cheek against yours that her lips have curled into a wicked smile. You’d known that a “meeting” with Choa was an inevitability given her return, but you hadn’t had time to indulge her given how busy you were with Rose and then Sakura. You return her smile with one of your own, eager to take the eager woman up to your hotel room to make up for lost time.

Your hand reaches for the doorknob again, only to be stopped once more.

Choa looks you in the eye before raising a hand and wagging a finger tip in a “no” motion. Then she places the same fingertip at her mouth to indicate silence.

Over her shoulder you glance at Dahyun, who had begun to give her update to JYP over the videoconference call. You finally catch on to Choa’s plan, and the devilish grin on her lips is soon mirrored on your own.

Giving you a long, lustful look, Choa turns and steps towards the other end of the conference room table, leaning over it while facing Dahyun. Dahyun is momentarily distracted by her colleague, but soon returns her attention to JYP, even if you could tell by the way she had begun to squirm in her seat that she was already caught on to what was about to happen in front of her.

Satisfied that she had her younger colleague’s attention, Choa slips her blue cardigan from her shoulders and looks back at you, still lingering by the entrance to the conference room. Without breaking eye contact, she reaches down to the hem of her miniskirt and pulls it up to her waist, revealing her full, round, naked ass - and her still-glistening thighs.

You lick your lips, and giving thanks for her reappearance in your life, you step behind Choa. 

Your arms start at her sides, caressing her thin waist and the delicious flare of her hips. When your fingertips finally reach her naked ass she trembles slightly, her mouth frozen in an open “o” as your touch reignites the long-dormant lust she’d once held for you. You give both her cheeks a squeeze, delighting in the fact that they’d lost none of their firmness or perkiness in her time away.

You need to feel more of her, need to reintroduce yourself to the tight little body that you’d spent many an afternoon pounding into submission. You’d had Park Choa bent over your desk, pressed against the wall, had her ride you in your office chair more times than you could count. But you never tired of her, never tired of filling her tight wet pussy or hot needy mouth with your cum almost every afternoon. And as your fingers make their way to the buttons of the tight white blouse she wore, the reignited lust in your loins and the gathering saliva in your mouth convince you that your hunger for her had not waned in the slightest - if anything, her absence had only made you want her more.

When your fingers begin to undo Choa’s blouse, Dahyun lets a soft gasp escape her lips - one she covers up with a cough, as Choa did earlier. 

“I’m sorry, sir. My throat is a little sore,” she apologizes, before quickly changing the subject and doing her best to delve into the logistics updates JYP had asked her for - even if her trembling fingers as she sorted through the paper files on the table betrayed the arousal that was quickly growing inside her.

Not even ten feet away, you have finally finished unbuttoning Choa’s blouse, revealing the smooth, milky skin of her torso - and the absence of a bra.

Your hands start at her waist before curling around to her front, finding and cupping both of her round, full breasts in your hands. You let a hot, needy breath escape your throat and into Choa’s ear as you press yourself against her. She reaches up with her left hand and runs it through your hair - you reciprocate the affection and place soft kisses against the side of her face before she turns her head and captures your lips with hers, your tongues quickly reintroducing themselves to each other. The fingernails of the hand in your hair dig into your scalp, almost painfully, as you finally capture the woman’s stiff nipples in your hands, teasing and pinching the tight nubs between your thumb and index fingers.

Dahyun coughs again.

“Do you need to grab a glass of water, Miss Kim? Your throat sounds quite dry,” JYP asks, concerned.

“Oh, no, not at all, s-sir. I’m quite f-fine,” Dahyun answers, “I’m far from d-dry.”

You can almost feel Choa struggle to suppress a chuckle against your lips - but she soon has little time for that as you begin to slip your right hand down her torso, past a flat, tight stomach and the front of her skirt, still bunched up around her waist. When you reach her naked crotch, it doesn’t take long to find her slick, dripping folds.

The hand in your scalp digs deeper into your skull. Her free hand tightens around your wrist in a deathgrip. She only barely manages to stifle a short gasp of pleasure that escapes her throat.

You’d had enough. You’d been without Park Choa’s body for too long. Your free hand releases her trembling breast from its grip before quickly undoing your own belt and zipper, finally freeing your stiff cock from its confines to slap thickly against Choa’s lower back. Choa gasps at the feeling of your meat against her skin - a wordless sound of happiness, a feeling of relief at having been returned something she’d gone too long without.

She turns her head as best she can, using the grip on your scalp to pull your head forward until her needy, gasping lips are next to your ear.

“Fuck me now please, sir.”

Choa was wet and dripping and needy, still recovering from Dahyun’s oral work just minutes before. Your cock ached to be inside her body, having been away from it for so long. And so when you enter her, slipping into her tight wet heat for the first time in many months, you both couldn’t help but let out a sharp, needy gasp of desire.

“Did you hear that, Miss Kim?” JYP asks suddenly.

“Hmm?” Dahyun answers, doing her best to brush off the lustful sound of her boss penetrating her colleague to the hilt only a few feet away. “Apologies, we’re using a conference room in the hotel and it’s p-possible that the m-microphone is picking up the noise of.. f-fellow g-guests.”

“Ah, understood,” JYP says, seemingly satisfied by Dahyun’s explanation. “Now, what was that you were saying about the surveillance equipment you needed?”

Dahyun does her best to continue the meeting, shuffling through the notebook and papers she had on her desk in an attempt to find some piece of information she needed as she tries, with mixed success, to continue the meeting with her boss. Not even a few feet away, you slowly begin to draw your cock out from Choa’s pussy, revelling in the tightness of her body and the way her lips gripped your glistening, slick cock as you withdraw until only the head of your cock is inside her. You relish the sight of her squirming, trembling, almost begging to be filled once more - until you push back inside her with a smooth, deep thrust.

Choa was every bit as tight and wet and hot as you remembered. You’d been with more than your fair share of women in the time since she’d left your team - many of whom were younger, hotter, tighter or wetter. But there was something about Choa that attracted you like no other woman in your life. Maybe it was the inherent maturity she held, the sly, demure, confident sexiness she’d always exuded. Other women, like Mina, for example, gave off an ice queen princess persona that was attractive if intimidating. Others, like Sana, wore their allure freely and openly, like a perfume.

Choa didn’t need to do either. Her sexiness was a mature, reserved sexiness, the kind worn by a woman who knew all the rules of the game, knew how to play it, and didn’t need the overbearing exuberance or mind games of her more youthful colleagues to win it. Maybe it was her confidence, the way she carried herself that aroused you the most.

Or maybe it was the fact that despite the confidence she held in her personal and professional life, she loved - craved - being dominated by you.

Her body was every bit as sexy as her younger compatriots, tight and firm in all the right places. Her pussy tightens and pulsates around you, adjusting to your girth as its owner reacquainted herself with your stiff cock, her mouth frozen in a wordless, soundless “o”, eyes shut as she tried to relish every thrust, every entry and exit in and out of her needy, wanton body.

Your hands wander - crushing her hips in your grip, squeezing a needy, bouncing breast, grasping a shoulder to give yourself better leverage to pound deeper and deeper into Choa’s body. She leans forward, bracing herself now against the table with her hands, bending over to allow you to fully take her, fully use her body for your own needs. Choa throws her head back, bites her lip, tries to do anything to keep the lustful, wordless cries of pleasure from escaping needy, trembling lips.

Her open blouse lets her naked breasts bounce wildly with each slap of your hips against her ass. Your swinging balls slap her wet flesh with each hilt-deep penetration - and for a moment, the feel of her wet flesh on your balls as her juices drip down your sack causes you to forget that you were both trying to be silent as you pound Choa’s wet, hot pussy on the conference room table, the echo of wet flesh hitting wet flesh steadily rising in volume until it filled the room.

“Do you hear that, Miss Kim?” JYP asks, “...that slapping sound?”

“Y-yes, I-I think I-do,” Dahyun responds, thankful that she could probably blame the internet connection for the stutter she had developed whenever she was aroused. A quick glance at her confirmed that only one of her hands was above the table now, the other likely busy between her legs. To her credit she tried her best to look confused, glancing around the room as though she were genuinely puzzled as to where the sound was coming from. “I t-think it must b-be some construction or-or something going on n-nearby. T-there’s a lot of… hammering going on, sir.”

“Ah,” JYP answers. “It sounds like they’re really pounding away at something.”

“Y-yes, it definitely d-does, sir!” Dahyun answers, perhaps a little more enthusiastically than she was hoping. Her cheeks flushed, she does her best to change the subject. “I h-hope they finish th-their work soon, b-because I can’t bear t-to hear it for much longer!”

“I understand, Miss Kim. It must be difficult to work in those circumstances. Perhaps you might want to look into making arrangements to have the team work in one of those co-op working spaces that are all the rage lately. It’s important that the team have a suitable working environment, without any bothersome distractions going on in the background.”

“Y-yes, sir. I-I’ll d-do it right away. I’ll d-definitely make sure th-they can pound away on t-their work for as long as they need, without interruption!”

You would have smiled, would have giggled at the sight of Dahyun trying so desperately to maintain some semblance of professionalism during her meeting - but you had little time for such concerns, not when Choa’s pussy was pulsating around you, each thrust into her needy, wet hole making her tighten in anticipation for an orgasm that was just around the corner.

Choa’s hands search desperately for something on the table to grip, something to use as an anchor for her quivering, trembling body. Unable to find anything, she whips a hand back and finds your scalp again. But you are almost angered, almost irritated by her painful grip on your skull, and you feel a dark need to take her, dominate her the way you used to on many an afternoon in your office back home. You wanted to take her, use her the way you knew she wanted and loved to be used.

You grasp her hand by her wrist and tear it from your scalp, taking her other wrist and pinning both to her lower back. She falls forward onto the table with a thud, her cheek and naked breasts pressed flat against it. With your other hand you reach forward and grasp a handful of her dark chestnut hair, pulling her head back, opening up her throat and relishing the deep, lustful moan that leaves her throat - uncaring of the fact that her boss was on the other side of video conference call just a few feet away.

“Mmmfffmfmmuhnnngh!” she gasps, too far gone, too far lost in the bliss caused by your pounding cock that she could have cared less if JYP were actually in the room with you, watching you pound her over the conference room table. All she cared about was each thrust, each penetration, each entry of your thick, hard cock into her needy, hot wet pussy.

Choa orgasms, and Dahyun, seeing what was about to happen, reacts swiftly.

“Ahahhhehem!” Dahyun shouts as she pretends to sneeze - just loud enough to cover the needy, lustful moan of pleasure that leaves Choa’s throat. “I’m so s-sorry sir, I think I may be… coming... down with s-something.”

“Oh, no,” JYP says with what sounded like genuine concern. “Please take care of yourself, Miss Kim. If you need a day or two to rest, please don’t hesitate to let your boss know-”

“Oh I t-think I’ll b-be okay, s-sir. I w-want t-to cum t-”

“Miss Kim?”

“Oh! Sorry s-sir. I meant to s-say, I want to come to work! Y-yes, that’s it. A-apologies, sir, there must be something wrong with the internet c-connection. S-shall we w-wrap up t-this meeting before t-the connection d-dies?”

Dahyun does her best to finish up the meeting - you do your best to keep from cumming too soon, even as Choa’s pussy pulsates and throbs around your pistoning cock as you fuck her through her orgasm.

Your grip tightens on her hair, your other hand pinning her wrists tightly against the small of her back. The dominance you were exerting over Choa was utterly intoxicating, the feel of her body catering to your every whim making you dizzy with pleasure. The call of your orgasm beckoned once more, and this time you were happy to answer.

Thrusting as deeply inside Park Choa’s slick, needy pussy as you could, you finally let your orgasm overtake you. Thick, hot ropes of semen shoot deep inside her body, painting her walls with warm white cum. Choa lets a soft whimper escape her lips with each burst of semen that fills her pussy, biting her lip in an only half-successful attempt to muffle the wordless moans of pleasure from escaping her mouth as she is filled to the brim with cum.

You slump forward, finally releasing Choa’s wrists and hair as your strength finally gives out. You only barely manage to hold yourself up by your forearms as you breathe heavily, filling starved lungs with oxygen as the exertion of the quick but intensely pleasurable fuck finally overwhelms you. Choa is equally a mess, her face plastered by her cheek to the table, the hot mist of her heavy breathing evident on the dark polished wood. You are vaguely aware of Dahyun wrapping up her meeting with JYP, but her voice sounds distant and foggy, as though she is far away - the only sensation that mattered was the warm, hot, pulsating wetness that surrounded your cock and the juices, yours and Choa’s, that had begun to leak from her cum-stuffed hole to drip down her trembling thighs and onto the floor of the conference room.

Eventually Choa gathers the strength to raise her upper body from the desk, still breathing heavily. Her blouse slips from her shoulder, leaving her almost topless. You couldn’t help but snake an arm around to caress and squeeze a full breast, softly, tenderly, thankful to be able to partake in the pleasures of her body again. Choa turns her head to whisper into your ear once more.

“That was a… productive meeting, sir - just like old times.”

“Definitely,” you whisper back.

“I think that’s everything, Miss Kim,” JYP states. Judging by his tone you could tell he had no idea that two of his staff had just fucked each others’ brains out just outside the view of his camera. “Job well done, as always.”

“T-thank you, s-sir. I-I t-think it’s t-time for me to c-clean up here. G-good night!”

Dahyun waves quickly to the webcam before slamming the laptop shut. Choa, still impaled to the hilt with your cock, turns to Dahyun with a sly smile.

“I never had the chance to provide you with training on your position before I left, Miss Kim. We do want to make sure you are able to execute all the duties associated with your position, don’t we, sir?”

“We do,” you agree. You squeeze Choa’s breast a little tighter, eliciting a warm growl of approval from the woman and a whimper of pleasure from Dahyun as she watches you toy with Choa’s chest. The idea of Choa dominating another woman even as she allowed herself to be dominated in turn was utterly arousing.

“Good. Your first training session begins in twenty minutes, Miss Kim - in your boss’ hotel room. Don’t be late.”

---

“Velvet 1, report in.”

“Overwatch, Velvet 1. Nothing to report, over.” Irene responds into the radio, her tone straightforward and no-nonsense.

“Same shit, different hour - as I’m sure you can tell from the video feed,” Momo chirps from somewhere off-camera. There is a sound on the radio that sounded a bit like a sigh from Jihyo, who was sitting in the driver’s seat.

The surveillance camera that Jihyo, Irene and Momo are operating from inside the van parked opposite Blackpink’s safehouse doesn’t show it, but you could tell that Momo and Jihyo were as bored as you were, even if Irene seemed alert, professional, and businesslike.

“Velvet 1, Overwatch. Understood. Out,” Nayeon says, clicking a button on the radio console and turning off the connection to the surveillance van. Two days of surveillance on the Blackpink house, in a nondescript middle-class neighborhood of Tokyo, were fruitless thus far - not a single person had been spotted entering or leaving, despite your team maintaining a 24 hour watch on it in rotating shifts. The surveillance camera feed being streamed from Irene’s camera may as well have been a still picture.

The rear of the command and control van, parked two blocks away from the surveillance van, was starting to feel a little cramped. You would’ve given anything to step out of it, even for a few minutes, to stretch your legs. Nayeon and Jihyo, however, had been adamant that you stay inside for security purposes.

You were thankful, at least, that Choa had volunteered for this shift. The session with her and Dahyun had been quite a memorable one, lasting most of the afternoon and almost making you both late for the start of the shift with Nayeon. The image of Choa on all fours as she crawled atop Dahyun’s body was still fresh on your mind - as was the feeling of both of their tight, dripping pussies as you took turns fucking both of them in that position before spilling your cum on Dahyun’s milky, creamy stomach at Choa’s behest. 

It was thus understandable, given her recent expenditure of energy, that Choa was the first to fall asleep, dozing away with her head leaning against the passenger seat of the van. You found yourself smiling to yourself as you listened to her snore softly, thankful that she was back in your life. The past couple of months without her had been taxing, to say the least, but they were made even more so by Choa’s absence. She had long been a stabilizing, reliable force in your life and without her steady support you found yourself a little less ready to deal with the constant twists and turns of your line of work.

You stretch your arms and legs as best you could given the van’s cramped cabin before a small yawn escapes your lips.

“You can take a nap, it’s fine,” Nayeon says, as if reading your mind. “We’ll wake you up if anything happens. Choa has the next watch, anyway. Just pass me one of those bananas before you doze off,” she says, motioning with her chin towards the grocery store bag of packaged food and drink that was meant to last the three of you for the entirety of your eight hour shift.

You smile back as you grab one of the fruits from the corner store grocery bag and hand it to her.

“This shit is bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S!” she sings softly to herself as she returns her attention back to the monitors, humming the tune to the song as she peels the banana.

“Don’t take advantage of me when I’m asleep,” you say jokingly as you try to make yourself as comfortable as possible on the van floor.

“Don’t worry, you wouldn’t even know it if I did. I’m a ninja. N-I-N-J-J-A!” she sings to the tune of the song.

“There’s only one-”

Nayeon looks quizzically at you, legitimately puzzled as to what you were about to say.

“...Nothing. Good night, Nayeon.”

“Sweet dreams,” she says with a soft smile as she takes a bite of her banana.

---

You awaken to the sound of raised voices.

“Are you sure? Jihyo, does he match any descriptions we have of Blackpink associates?”

“No,” Jihyo replies over the radio. “Negative ID.”

“We should fucking grab him,” Nayeon hisses under her breath.

“What? No, we’re here for surveillance, not kicking down doors,” says Momo over the radio. “Let’s step back and watch what he does. We should contact Officer Miyawaki - she’s escorting Rose to the airport and she should be informed before-”

“I’m not gonna sit in this van for another two days twiddling my thumbs,” Nayeon snaps. “The sooner we track down Blackpink the sooner we track down Seulgi and Yeri. Jihyo, are you with me?”

There is a moment of hesitation that is palpable even over the radio as Jihyo considers the situation.

“Yes,” Jihyo states. “Time is of the essence here. The house is clearly empty, and has been for a while. We might never get this chance again.”

“Wait, what the fuck is going on?” you say, wiping the sleep from your eyes. You crawl on the floor of the van to where Nayeon and Choa are hunched over the radio and video feeds.

“Irene spotted a male walking into the safehouse while I was on watch,” Choa explains. “He’s alone and approached the building on foot.”

Nayeon retrieves her kevlar vest from the storage racks opposite the monitor, strapping it on quickly before turning back to the radio. “Jihyo, let’s move-”

“That’s crazy,” Momo snaps over the radio. “Let’s think about this. This could be a trap. Or it could just be that Rose was lying to us all along and this house has nothing to do with Blackpink. Let’s get Officer Miyawaki here to ID this guy - maybe he’s on the Tokyo PD database or something. Then we can-”

“They know where Seulgi and Yeri are,” Nayeon interrupts, her tone sharp. “Or haven’t you been paying attention? Seulgi fucking shot me, and it’s only dumb fucking luck that Yeri didn’t kill Jeongyeon. Isn’t that our goal? To track down Seulgi and Yeri? ”

“No, our goal is to bring down Blackpink,” Momo replies, her voice raised. “It’s them that manipulated Irene into everything she did. Or is it you that hasn’t been paying attention, Officer Im?”

The use of Nayeon’s last name and title must have been the tipping point for the older woman.

“You know what, I don’t fucking take orders from you, Miss Hirai. Jihyo, meet me on the corner. We’re moving on the house.”

“Nayeon, wait,” you say quickly, grabbing the heated young officer by her upper arm as she makes to exit the van. “Let’s slow down and think about this.”

“What is there to think about? We’ve been sitting here for two days waiting for an opportunity. Here it is, right in front of us.”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Are you sure this is the best course of action? Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Of course I do,” Nayeon replies. The confidence in her eyes is unmistakable - it was a look you were familiar with. “The fact that there’s no one in the house means that this isn’t Blackpink’s primary safehouse. We need to move on this guy - if he’s there on Blackpink’s orders he probably knows where they actually are. If he slips away, he might never come back.”

Your grip loosens on Nayeon’s arm, but doesn’t leave it.

“Let me go,” she says, her voice unexpectedly soft. “Please.”

You sit there in silence for a few moments - the moment seemed to drag on as you slowly, finally let go of Nayeon’s arm.

“Okay,” you finally say.

Nayeon gives you a final nod, before swinging open the rear door of the van, drawing her pistol and racking the slide to chamber a round, and then running towards the safehouse.

---

The streaming feed from Nayeon’s vest camera was surprisingly clear - with her pistol held out in front of her it seemed almost like a screenshot from a frighteningly realistic video game. Except this was far from a game, and the consequences and danger were very real.

“Police! Come out with your hands up!” Nayeon shouts into the doorway. Opposite her, on the other side of the door, is Jihyo.

“Police! Come out now!” Nayeon repeats.

When there is no answer, Nayeon turns to Jihyo, who nods in understanding. The younger officer reaches for the doorknob, finding it unlocked. Hand still on the knob, she nods towards Nayeon, who seems to give her the go-ahead.

A second later Jihyo pushes the door open, and Nayeon steps into the house.

“Police! Come out with your hands up!” Nayeon shouts, her pistol held in front of her as she scans the entrance foyer. Jihyo follows her into the home. On the small genkan area next to the door are a single pair of shoes - indicating that the male suspect was the only person in the house.

“Room right,” Nayeon states, her eyes not moving from the hallway as she identifies the presence of a large living room space to the right of the entrance. As soon as Jihyo enters the foyer she enters the living room, Nayeon following soon after, pistol sweeping up and following her line of sight.

With well-practiced precision the two officers clear the bottom floor of the house, always covering each others’ backs, relying on quick, prompt verbal communications and commands to swiftly and efficiently sweep the rooms and confirm that there were no threats on the ground floor.

“Moving to the second deck,” Nayeon says into the radio. It’s when she is halfway up the stairs that they hear a bedroom door slam shut upstairs.

“Hands up! Police! Hands up!” Nayeon and Jihyo shout, “Come out with your hands up!  Do it now!”

When the upstairs individual makes no move to open the door, Nayeon and Jihyo quickly scramble up the stairs, each taking up position on either side of the door. Just as with the front door, Jihyo tests the doorknob, finding it unlocked, before nodding towards Nayeon. The older officer takes a moment to compose herself before nodding back.

For a moment, two blocks away in the surveillance van, time seemed to slow for you. You’d witnessed that sensation only once before - during the shooting in Seoul. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and you were suddenly aware of every little detail in the feed of Nayeon’s vest camera - the way two strands of Jihyo’s hair fell into her eyes, the wood grain design on the bedroom door, the dark purple nail polish on Nayeon’s fingernails, wrapped around the grip of her Glock. You could almost feel that something important was waiting for her behind that door, and a small part of you wanted to freeze time long enough for you to run over to the house and stop her from opening it.

Jihyo opens the door, and Nayeon bursts into the room, pistol up and ready.

In the centre of the empty bedroom is a young teenager, dressed in all black. In his hands is what looked like a tablet of some sort.

“Put your fucking hands in the air! Do it now!” Nayeon shouts.

“Put your hands in the air or you will be shot!” Jihyo exclaims. The two officers take up positions in the room, both of their handguns aimed squarely at the terrified teen’s head.

The teenager, looking utterly terrified, begins to speak quickly in Japanese. He gestures towards the tablet in his hands, but his words come out garbled and slurred as the fear of being shot overtakes his ability to speak clearly. Jihyo nods to Nayeon, who nods back - the older woman keeps her pistol trained on the young man’s  head as Jihyo approaches him, retrieves the tablet, and then proceeds to handcuff him.

“Blue 1 to Overwatch, we need a translator,” Nayeon says into the radio.

Two blocks away, you finally release the breath you were holding. 

---

“He was paid to come to this house and leave this tablet here,” Momo says as she turns away from the sobbing, handcuffed teenager to face you and your team. “He says he was hired by some random user on a forum who told him the combination to a public storage locker in a nearby subway station. In the locker were his cash payment and the tablet. That’s all he knows.”

“Turn the tablet on,” you say, eager to see get to the bottom of what the hell was going on.

Nayeon holds the tablet’s power button down, and the screen comes to life as your team gathers around it.

---

The video was clearly shot on a handheld camera, if the jittery swaying was any indication. The camera is pointed at a dirty, dusty floor. There are nondescript cardboard boxes piled around with piles of clothing thrown atop them, along with several silhouettes that you eventually realize are mannequins.

There are murmurs in the background, barely audible. The video swings up, and a young woman of Asian descent, clearly the bearer of the camera itself, appears. She is cute, but there is a glint of instability in her wild eyes.

“Why hello there, my friends!” she begins, her tone equal parts playfulness and sarcasm. She is dressed in a punk-inspired rocker fit, with wildly dyed hair, loose black pants, webbed t-shirt and a sports bra. “If you’re watching this you’ve just missed me! Too bad!”

There is a murmur off-camera, and the young woman lets a look of faux embarrassment appear on her face. 

“Oh, how rude of me! I’m Lisa, of a little group called Blackpink. We’re finally in your area! Annyeonghaseyo! Konnichiwa!”

Next to you, your team members shuffle anxiously. Nayeon clenches her fists. Momo lets an angry exhalation of breath escape her flared nostrils.

“I bet you’re wondering what this video is about, so I’m not gonna waste your time. We have a present for you! But first, let me introduce my good friend and teammate - Jisoo!”

She swings the camera around, pointing it at a similarly aged young woman who, judging by her name, was Korean. She seemed a stark contrast to her friend, with her more subdued clothing - and the blank, unreadable look on her face. Was it nervousness, anxiety, or something else?

Lisa turns the camera so she is facing it again.

“Time for our present! Ta-da!!”

The camera swings back to Jisoo - except this time it is panned more downward, to reveal two figures on their knees next to the Korean girl. Both have their hands bound behind their backs, and what appeared to be burlap bags thrown over their heads. From the muffled sounds leaving the masks, they both appeared to have their mouths gagged.

“Why don’t you unwrap their presents for them, Jisoo?”

Jisoo hesitates for a moment as an unreadable look flashes over her features. Regret? Disgust? Whatever it was, it was there only for a moment - and she removes the burlap sacks from their captives to reveal Seulgi and Yeri, their mouths bound by cloth gags. Both struggle in their bonds, but Seulgi especially had a fire in her eyes that told you she’d be happy to tear the heads off of her captors if she could.

In the room Irene lets an audible gasp escape her lips - she had been stoic and emotionless since she had joined the team, but the sight of her closest friends bound and at the mercy of her enemies was finally enough to break her stony faced facade.

“I’m going to kill her,” Irene hisses, barely audible, but with unmistakable conviction.

Lisa pans the camera back to Jisoo. “Aren’t our presents great, Jisoo? Do you think they’ll like them?”

Jisoo’s face remains unreadable - although for a moment she looks directly into the camera. She blinks rapidly, eyes shutting and opening at random intervals, as though she had dust in her eyes.

“Anyway------,” Lisa says, awkwardly, as her teammate doesn’t give her the reaction she was looking for. She turns the camera back to herself, the expression on her face leading you to believe she was uncomfortable with her teammate’s behaviour. “We have one last surprise for our friends... but I think Officer Miyawaki might be better positioned to tell you what it is. By the time you watch this, her surprise should be ready, so go give her a call and find out what it is! That does it for me.Toodles! Say bye, Jisoo!”

Lisa turns the camera to Jisoo, but the sullen girl has already looked away, her sad eyes on Seulgi and Yeri as the video cuts to black. A few moments of silence pass as your teammates digest what they had just witnessed.

“I know where they are,” Irene states.

---

The ringing dial tone of Sakura’s phone seemed to last forever as you wait for her to pick up. You were more than a little terrified at what her part of the “gift” was, and already your mind was beginning to fear the worst.

When Sakura finally answers, the first thing you hear is a wet, coughing sound.

“What the- Sakura, Sakura! Are you alright?” you say into your phone.

For a few moments there is no reply. Sakura’s coughing fit continues. In the background another woman is similarly coughing heavily. The other woman attempts to spit in a vain attempt to clear her mouth and throat of whatever was ailing her, before releasing a string of profanities in English and one other vaguely European language.

“Sakura! Sakura, are you okay? Where are you?” you repeat.

“I-I’m fine,” she says, finally. In the background, police sirens wail. The other woman begins to speak into a radio, every word sounding as though it was painful to speak.

“Th-this is Officer Douma. We- we…”

“Somi!” Sakura snaps. “Somi, are you broken?”

“I-I’m okay. Are you good?”

“I-I’m good. The- the prisoner!”

“Shit!”

There is the sound of heavy footsteps on broken glass and a few painful sounding profanities as one or both of the women attempt to stand.

“Fuck, fuck! She’s fucking gone!” Somi exclaims.

“What!?” you half-shout into your phone, “Sakura, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

Another wet cough. Sakura spits, trying to clear her throat.

“Our ride to the airport got hit by something,” she manages to say. “And Rose - she’s gone.”

---

Author’s Note: :O 

Thanks as always for your support!

Shout out to @thelastdrop​ lol.

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #pov smut #aoa choa #AoA #park choa #business trip #twice #twice dahyun #Kim dahyun

[prose-for-hire]

How btvs characters would celebrate their s/o’s Birthday:

Characters include: Buffy; Spike; Angel; Giles; Cordelia; Oz; Willow; Tara; Xander; Anya; Riley and Faith

A/N: This is completely self-indulgent – it’s my Birthday! Yay !! There’s a few tiny sex references in these hcs but it’s mostly just up to interpretation I think 💖🖤

[Under the cut cos it’s quite long - I got excited !! 💖]

Buffy Summers:

- She would have a plan

- The plan may not exactly work out exactly how she wanted it to

- But either way it would be perfect to you

- She would plan a surprise party at the Bronze

- She would make sure everyone kept quiet

- (she wouldn’t even tell Dawn there was a party)

- She would want you at the centre of attention

- National y/n day

- she worried you usually would fade into the background cos she always has some slayer stuff to do

- she just wanted one moment where she could show you how much you mean to her

- she was very secretive, but you honestly hadn’t expected anything

- You were just happy to be hers so the fact she was doing this was secondary to your love

- It was T-ten minutes until you were about to walk through that door and who appears?

- A vampire, of course.

- Buffy scowled, storming up to the demon and screamed in his face that he had just ruined a month of planning

- He put his hands up in mock-surrender before dropping it and saying the fight didn’t stop for anyone

- Buffy traded blows and managed to stake the vampire (it was her PB time too)

- But this had all happened… Just as you walked in

- You coughed, spluttering slightly at the dust but you were quickly distracted by everyone’s shouts of ‘Happy Birthday!’

- You smiled, dusting yourself off and wrapping your arms around Buffy

- She looked a bit upset about the dust but you told her it was perfect

- It was the way you both lived and she had managed to do all of this with only a minor attack

- You loved it, all of your friends were there and you got presents and great live music

- She had gotten everything so right

- You danced and had the best time, feeling so loved with your girlfriend by your side

Spike:

- he would have remembered a week in advance

- Mostly cos he overheard you saying it to someone

- He didn’t forget he just wasn’t used to celebrating birthdays

- But of course once he realised he was trying to pull together some kind of plan

- (Although he’s not great at plans, evil plots or birthdays bless)

- He wanted to show you how much he loved you

- But nothing seemed enough

- He made Dawn and some of your more agreeable friends brainstorm with him

- Over what you would like

- Dawn insisted on a party so he just nodded

- The day came and he gave you your gift

- It was so meaningful

- And he even wrote a little bit of poetry

- Almost snatched it from you and tore it up as you read it

- But you gushed over it and absolutely adored it

- So he grinned and you embraced

- Then It was party time! at the Bronze

- He put his good shirt on and took your hand and lead you inside

- Very affectionate, always with a hand on you

- An arm around you, whispers and kisses

- Barely left your side

- So much so that it might as well have just been the two of you

- You had loads of fun with the Scoobies, dancing and laughing

- But as soon as Spike gestured with his head you nodded

- Took his hand and you both skipped the rest of the party

- Knowing the night was young and there would be plenty more celebrations to be had in the crypt

Anya:

- She would be giddy

- She would have such grand, sometimes outlandish plans

- Some too grand to actually be able to pull off

- She wouldn’t be able to keep any secret

- She’s very clingy and involved with a s/o

- So would want it all to be everything you loved

- Would glow if you said all you needed was her

- Absolutely would gush and throw her arms around you

- With that adorable excited smile

- She would plan a big day out

- She’s very adventurous in all aspects of her life

- She would decide on something you would love

- Maybe settle for the beach or she may ask what you would prefer

- Would insist on paying for everything

- The entire day

- If you express surprise at her spending so easily

- She will scrunch up her nose and tell you of course she would spend money on you

- Happily so

- The reason she wants to make more is so that you and her can be comfortable

- Together, just the two of you

- She would choose a really great gift

- It would be wrapped to perfection

- So nicely you wouldn’t want to unwrap it – it was a gift in itself

- You would drive to your destination and she would hold your hand as you walked around

- She may complain a little if it’s a lot of walking

- But she would definitely be enjoying herself

- Would whisper sweet things in your ear

- And you would find a cute little place to have a meal

- It would be very intimate

-  And so very soft

- Both of you would cherish the memory of this birthday for years to come

Angel:

- Would be really anxious about getting it right

- You deserve everything to go right

- Wants you to enjoy yourself, to do something you would truly enjoy

- Would be bugging people asking for advice

- Which isn’t like him to initiate conversation

- Especially not with Xander

- But he wanted it to be exactly what you like

- Not outdated or boring

- Just perfect

-  And to do that he had to recruit your friends opinions

- Which were contradictory and at times he decided they were making fun of him

- (they thought he wouldn’t know any better)

- But despite all of this he planned the perfect evening

-  Some was a little old fashioned

- Probably a sit down meal

-  He would have cooked himself

-  All of your favourites, he wouldn’t taste it while he was cooking

- He doesn’t really do human food

- But you wouldn’t even have to pretend it tasted good

- You joked that he was annoyingly good at everything

- He gave you the sweetest most thoughtful gift

- Probably something small but oh so meaningful

- You noticed how nervous he had been leading up to today

- You put your hand over his

- You look at him softly, that way that makes him feel so loved

- So sure that this is real

- telling him that he was all you wanted

- It was a perfect day so long as he was by your side

- He grinned in that way he did, looking down

- Feeling more reassured

- Before reaching for you and scooping you up into the biggest hug

- He pressed some soft kisses against your forehead

- Your cheek

- The rest of your birthday evening spent in bed together

Giles:

- It would be an intimate affair, whatever you were doing

- Just the two of you

- Just exactly how you both like

- All you wanted was him anyway

- You insisted you didn’t want any presents

- Only him

- He was so attentive and adoring anyway

- But a little extra today

- He just wanted to do everything you wanted

- It would be your choice all day long

- You get to make all the decisions

- (if you hate decision-making he will ofc take over cos its your birthday lol)

- He’ll want to treat you through out the day

- Lots of small gifts through the day

- Just everything you adore

- Because you deserve all the sweetest little things

- He will take you in his arms, pressing the sweetest kiss to your forehead

- Whispering how much he loves you

- How much he loves this time of year

- Because it gives him the excuse to show you even more so how much he loves you

- He would bring you breakfast in bed and then the rest would be up to you

- You, of course, just want to spend the day with him

- You reach for him and pull him into you

- He would slide into bed beside you

- You would stay in bed together

- just you and him, cherishing the other

- long into the afternoon

- It’s purely bliss

Cordelia Chase:

- She would have a gift for every day of that week

- You would have a birthday week with her involved

- Showering you with gifts

- Some grand, some little tiny things that she saw and thought of you

- You would literally not doubt her love for you

-  Her dedication

- And this was her way of showing it, you knew that

- She loved your birthday because she could spend time showing you just how much you meant to her

- She would want to have a big party for you

- Make everyone bring lots of gifts for you

- Literally wouldn’t let people in without at least two medium sized presents

- Or one massive present

- But she was open to suggestions

- (although she definitely got caught up in her vision for the day)

- She could definitely enjoy an intimate moment with you as well

- In the afternoon, before the party

- She would give you a main present

- It’s something you mentioned you liked in a store

- Like seven months ago

- And she remembered!

- Because you mean so much to her

- She’ll smile so big when you tell her how much you love it

- She’ll take you to the party, showing you off

- Won’t leave your side

- You’ll dance and sing

- Just soak up the entire evening

- You can’t believe just how lucky you are to have her

Oz:

- Tells you he has a gig on your birthday

- Can’t get out of it

- Really apologetic

- You say you don’t mind

- He offers you to come

- And you smile wide

- Pleased that despite the inconvenience he would want to spend even a brief break between sets with you

- Would have got you the most thoughtful and meaningful present

- He would have listened to everything you had ever expressed interest in

- He’s a really good listener

- And makes it a point of pride that he knows you this well

- So it was the big day and you travelled together to the bar

- He smiled and lead you in

- Everyone shouted and cheered when you arrived

- It was a surprise party

- With all your best friends

- The biggest surprise was that he planned it himself

- That soft smile when he saw how shocked and pleased you were

- He’ll have pulled you into him

- And pressed the softest kiss against your forehead

- He completely doted on you

- Wanted you to have everything

- So much so he felt a little bad for deceiving you

- But your excitement made it all worth it

- His band would actually play

-  A few of your favourite songs

- Or some of the songs that were undoubtedly written about you

- Maybe even a little cheesy happy birthday at the end of their mini-set

- He would come back after that and you would celebrate into the night

- With all your favourite people around you

- Such a perfect day!

Faith:

- She would be a bit embarrassed about how enthusiastic she was

-  About just everything about you really

- She would totally have a plan

- She would just be ridiculously embarrassed about it

- And try to play it off as cool

- Or that it wasn’t a big deal if you didn’t want to

- (she would actually die inside if you would rather do something else)

- But of course you want her

- And you tell her this a lot

- She glows when you do this

- She adores having your attention

- She gets that you are very good to her, you reassure her often

- Look out for her

- So she wants to basically pull out all the stops

- In her own way

- She’s been saving up

- For quite a long time

- Wanted to show you just how much she loves you

- You have reservations at Sunnydale’s fanciest restaurant

- There’s champagne: the works

- You’re confused but you smile at her, holding her hand over the table

- It’s nice that people are having to treat you both with such respect

- But you both bite into your meals and make the same face

-  Of absolute disgust

- The food is overpriced

-  And horrible

- You both look at each other, the same glint in your eye

- You take the bottle and dash for it together

- Laughing and eventually slowing

- You stop after a while, sharing the end of the champagne

- And kiss her

- You turn in and find your favourite fast food joint instead

- You’re both just on such a high

- Probably the best birthday ever

-  It felt like it was just you and her

Riley:

- He had precise plans

-  Well-thought out in advance

- You truly are the most important to him

- Plan was conducted with army-style accuracy

- So that you could have the best day

- He set up a little scavenger hunt

- Only small but so very cute and meaningful

- All around town

- With love notes and little gifts along the way

- It was truly the sweetest thing

- It melted your heart

- And his little puppy-dog look

- Of enthusiasm and excitement when you find the next clue

- Almost more excited than you

- It’s completely adorable

- You wrap your arms around him and cuddle into him

- Smiling wide when he wraps his arms around you

- Whispering how much he loves you

- Wants you to enjoy yourself

- Just have one day where there was no danger

- Nothing except happiness for you

- It means a lot

- At the end, there’s a gift waiting for you

-  One that looks as if it was made for you

- He just knows you inside out

- You’ve arrived at your favourite restaurant

- It was the one that you had your first date in

- He just wants everything to be special

- And about you

- He’s managed to swing reservations and in the same spot by the window

- Because you always say you want to go back

- He only wants the very best for you

- You hold hands and slide your chair so that you get to sit closer to him

- Laying lots of affection on him

- Which he insists isn’t fair cos it’s your birthday

- He’s honestly the sweetest

- He makes your heart melt

Tara:

- Such a sweetheart with you

- Like completely in tune with the kind of day you’d love

- Wants it to truly be all about you

- She would make you your favourite breakfast

- If you woke up and came to see what she was doing

- She would cuddle up to you from behind

- Such a soft smile

- As she wishes you a happy birthday

- Pressing kisses against you

- She’s more excited than you for the day

- Absolutely adores you

- The gift she got you would be so meaningful

- Like completely what you want/needed

- Near knows your mind better than you

- She knows how much your friends mean to you

- Wants you to be happy

- Completely in tune with you

- And what you enjoy

- So she plans a lovely party at the bronze

- With all of your favourite people

- She’s right there with you

- Makes sure to buy you your favourite drinks

- You and your friends have such a great time

- Tara makes sure that it’s all about you

- She makes sure that everyone’s happy

- And that there’s no drama

- Or demons

- (and if any demons do crash, she makes sure that you don’t notice)

- Buffy nods and takes it outside

- She manages to swing your favourite band

- To come and play at the Bronze

- You squeal with excitement (internally lol if you’re not that way out)

- And they dedicate your very favourite song to you

- For your birthday

- You and Tara would dance together and have the best time

- It would be so much fun

- You tell her just how much you appreciate her

- She’s a complete sweetheart

- And you always feel cherished by her

- Like everyday, but especially now

- With all of this love surrounding you

Xander Harris:

- He would want to do something romantic

- Meaningful

- You deserved it

- And he was sure he didn’t treat you as good as you deserved

- Despite you being so incredibly happy with him

- He would tell you that there were plans

- So that you didn’t make any of your own

- But wouldn’t give you anything other than a vague direction

- On what type of clothing to wear

- (something warm but cute like you)

- I’m sure he would take every opportunity to kiss you

- And shower you with as much physical affection as possible

- Throughout the day

- In fact would probably claim the entire week in your honour

- Maybe even the month in his goofy enthusiasm

- Would actually have a present sorted well in advance

- He has an (unfounded in his opinion) reputation for forgetting or not putting so much thought into his gifts

- But he has worked to turn this stereotype around

- Especially so for you

- Very thoughtful with his gifts

- Will most likely have made it himself

- It’s perfect and you tell him this

- Between kisses

- He would then lead you to

- Would blindfold you but you absolutely trusted him

- And you open your eyes and find yourself at a movie theatre

- It’s lovely but you squint and look at him a little confused

- He smiles in that soft way and shows you

- The entire theatre is reserved for you

- Just you and him

- And all the snacks you need

- (he used to work with the guy that manages the cinema and he owes him one)

- They’re showing something you’ve been dying to see

- And you hold his hand, leaning against him

- When you’re ready to leave he shakes his head, pressing a kiss against you

- They’re showing a marathon

- Of some of your all-time favourites

- It was so thoughtful and so entirely perfect for the both of you

Willow:

- Honestly so excited for your birthday

- Basically vibrating with how excited she is

- She really loves you

- And has a bunch of sweet gestures and plans

- Up her sleeve

- Just wants everything to be about you

- You spend the morning in bed, mostly relaxing

- Snuggling and soft kisses against you

- She’ll whisper happy birthday

- And immediately pass you a little gift

- She couldn’t wait any longer

- Bright eyes and a brighter smile

- Widens with yours as you see the sweetest gift

- Absolutely perfect for you

- You wrap your arms around her and stay like that

- For a long while

- Just basking in how much you love each other

- How much you just truly get each other

- Eventually she managed to coax you out of bed

- She snaps her fingers twice and you give her a confused look

- But you soon understand

- She’s decorated the entire house

- Just to your taste too

- Very sweet and all for you

- She took a really long time perfecting the spell

- You get ready, she bought you that outfit you said you liked

- That happened to be perfect for a party

- You both dress nice and go downstairs

- To see all of your friends waiting

- The music starts and your favourite people are all around

- You have a really great time celebrating

- And you can see just how much effort she’s put in

- She’s so sweet with you, brings the fun out

- Makes you so happy

- The day is just perfect

- She baked too, a cake (or the alternative that she knew you would like lol)

- She spent so much time on it, just for you

- The party was so fun everyone ended up staying over

- You and Willow cuddle up on the sofa, whispering long into the night

#Spike btvs #Angel btvs #Buffy Summers #Willow Rosenberg #Tara Maclay #Riley Finn #Rupert Giles #Anya Jenkins #Xander Harris #Oz #Daniel Osbourne #Cordelia Chase #Faith lehane #hc #buffyverse hc #headcanon #buffyverse headcanon #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #btvs #btvs hc #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #gn #gender neutral #x reader

[kyuuppi]

(Un)planned (requested)

Pairing: Orihara Izaya x Pregnant!Reader

Genre: fluff, a lil crack-y

Word Count: 4.9k

As you walk out of the hospital you can’t help but to feel as if you’re in a dream, as if nothing is real. The only thing tying you to reality are the freshly printed documents verifying your pregnancy that feel unnaturally heavy in your purse. The reality of the situation was easier to accept than you expected, really. You have been married for a while and you can recall several instances in which you two hadn’t been exactly safe with your escapades. Being pregnant is not something that bothers you either—you have always wanted to have children at some point in your life. The only problem, the only thing keeping you from feeling properly excited by the news is the father of the child itself—Orihara Izaya. It is not something the two of you had ever discussed and, knowing first hand just how dangerous his field of work as one of Japan’s best information brokers...well, you aren’t sure if you two could create a healthy environment for a child to grow up in. Providing love and food on the table was one thing, providing safety and security was another.

At the thought of food your stomach involuntarily grumbles. You didn’t realize just how hungry you are until now. You hadn’t eaten all day, the nervousness about the doctor’s visit having ruined your appetite. It is by sheer coincidence that you notice a familiar face only a few meters ahead entering the infamous sushi bar. You follow after him without hesitation.

“Welcome to Russia Sushi,” Simon greets with a grin.

You smile in return before sidling into the booth next to the blond man you had followed in.

“Hi, Shizuo,” you greet shyly. The man nods in acknowledgement, already looking over the menu.“Y/n,” he returns coolly, “how have you been?” His gaze suddenly darkens as his grip on the laminated menu tightens and you can already tell what he’s about to ask next.

“Has...the flea been treating you well?”

You have no doubt one word of complaint about Izaya would have Shizuo tearing the city apart to kill him. Shizuo was one of the first people in Ikebukuro you had met who you could call a “friend.” Although he wasn’t the type to frequent brunch dates and sleepovers to watch anime and gossip, he always made sure to greet you with a small smile, regardless of how his day was going, and had promised to protect you if you ever needed it.

It was already several months into your friendship when you had started dating Izaya and at first Shizuo had...not been happy, to say the least. To the blond, Izaya was incapable of genuinely caring about anyone but himself. There was always an interior motive and the people around him would always be in danger. After several long, long months of persuasive speaking on your part (naturally Izaya just got a kick out of teasing the man about your relationship rather than seeking approval), an official marriage to the man, and Shizuo seeing you still remaining unharmed through it all, Shizuo finally seems to accept your relationship—or at least tolerate it. However, you know one bad word about Izaya and Shizuo would be ready to kick his ass to Hong Kong on your behalf.

‘I wonder what he’d think about me not telling Izaya about the pregnancy.’ You mentally sour at the thought and physically shake your head to get rid of it.

“He’s been an angel,” you joke. Shizuo scoffs and you end up giggling as well. Regardless of disagreeing on just how bad Izaya is, you both know he’s far from an angel.

He had always been more curved horns and pointy tail than halo and wings...but you love him all the same.

Before Shizuo can verbally respond (likely with an insult about ‘the flea’), Simon appears behind the bar before you two, ready to take your orders. As usual, Shizuo places his order first so that you have a little longer to decide.

“I’ll take the natto sushi—” you can’t help but to shiver in disgust at the sound. “—and today’s special.”

You perk up at that.

“Special?”

Simon grins at your interest.

“Yes, today’s special is yummy drink, tastes just like Russian seaweed farms! Special is very good.”

The idea of a Rusian seaweed farm drink is moderately concerning but between Simon’s excitement and Shizuo’s unbothered look you decide to order it against your better judgement, along with some fatty tuna.

Izaya must really be rubbing off on you.

You and Shizuo share a few minutes of idle talk while you wait for your orders. He tells you of the most ridiculous people he has had to collect debts or protect Tom Tanaka from this month and your laughter has you forgetting about all of your pregnancy worries. You’ve completely relaxed by the time drinks arrive and you take a sip without hesitation.

“Mmm,” your eyes widen as you regard Shizuo, “this is actually really good!”

Shizuo offers a rare boyish grin before he sips his own pale green drink, watching you go in for more.

“Right? You can hardly even tell there’s any vodka in it.”

 ‘Vodka!?’

You gasp, accidentally inhaling extra liquid before you begin spluttering in panic. Shizuo quickly jumps into action, harshly patting your back but careful not to use too much strength. Half of the restaurant is looking your way in concern and even Simon looks like he’s just about to catapult himself over the bar to help you when you finally calm down and your choking is reduced to harsh pants while you try to catch your breath. You think most of the drink had been expelled in your coughing fit but you still feel queasy and anxious. What if it hurts the baby?

“Y/n, are you okay?’ Shizuo asks, hand awkwardly rubbing your back in an attempt to be comforting. “Are you allergic or something.”

“N-no, it’s not that I’m allergic but...I can’t have alcohol for a while.”

Shizuo raises a brow at that and you feel grateful that everyone seems to have returned to their own work by now, no longer staring at you. Simon has left the bar to attend to a customer in one of the private dining rooms, leaving you and Shizuo essentially alone in your corner of the sushi restaurant.

“Why can’t you have alcohol for a while? You used to love sake.”

He sends a teasing smirk with the last part, referring to an embarrassingly drunken moment you’d had a few weeks into living in the city. Shizuo had sworn to never bring it up again but clearly he paid that particular oath no mind.

“Well, um…”

You begin to fidget nervously. Originally you had no intentions of telling anyone about the baby but...Shizuo was a good friend, maybe your closest friend in Ikebukuro aside from Celty. You have no doubts he would be nothing but supportive and kind to you in a time when you need it most—that is, after he gets over the idea of another person sharing Izaya’s DNA being brought into the world, of course.

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone—not even Izaya. Especially not Izaya.”

Shizuo perks up at that, seeming interested in the prospect of you having something not even Izaya, your husband and the greatest information broker in all of Japan, knows about. Perhaps a small part of him would even relish in having something to keep from Izaya, some sort of “one-up” on the man.

“Of course,” he replies immediately, nodding.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself.

“I’m pregnant.”

Everything seems to pause at your confession. Shizuo sits stock still and as the silence stretches on you begin to fear he didn’t hear and you’ll have to repeat it. However, before you can open your mouth to repeat those incriminating words, you’re startled by a sharp snap and look down to find the wooden chopsticks in Shizuo’s right hand broken in half. You trust him and know he would never hurt you but your heart rate still spikes and you tense in your seat, hand subconsciously resting over your stomach protectively. Shizuo's wide eyes follow the movement.

“Y-you're…" He finally stutters out. "...whose is it?"

You gawk, suddenly offended.

"Wh-who!? It’s Izaya's, you dumbass, who else!"

"I didn't want to make any assumptions!"

Your anger quickly dissolves into giggles at Shizuo's panicked expression and he visibly relaxes at the sound. There are a few moments of moderately comfortable silence between the two of you before Shizuo sighs and speaks again.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you've been married for a while now." His expression sours once he mentions marriage and you can tell he's internally reliving some of his worst encounters with your husband.

"I just can't believe there's going to be two of them now," he pouts. "That annoying piece of—"

"Hey," you interrupt, a teasing smirk on your face. "That's my baby daddy you're talking about."

Shizuo’s pales, looking like he'll throw up in disgust at any moment and you can't help but to laugh.

Maybe this whole pregnancy thing isn’t so bad.

. . .

You had been wrong—very wrong.

After your impromptu lunch with Shizuo, as you were walking out with your extra bag of fatty tuna to-go, it suddenly hit that you were about to go to the home you shared with Orihara Izaya pregnant with the unplanned child he knows nothing about. You nearly had a panic attack several times on the walk there as you mentally played through a multitude of scenarios of how to tell him and what his reaction might be. Izaya is involved in dangerous, illegal work—you can’t imagine a family and kids fits anywhere in that. You were lucky enough to have been asked to marry the man—there’s no way he would be ready for children as well.

‘Would he tell me to get rid of it?’

You had worked yourself so much on the way that by the time you arrived to the apartment you were mentally exhausted and barely managed to place the sushi in the fridge before you collapsed on the couch and turned on the television to zone out until Izaya came home.

A few hours later a sound at the front door jolted you to attention.

“I’m home~!” a man’s voice cheerfully booms from the entrance.

You silently pray to every god in existence that you can pull an Oscar-worthy act before plastering a smile on your face and standing to greet your husband.

“Welcome home, Izaya! I bought fatty tuna, it’s in the fridge.”

Izaya’s vermillion eyes seem to sparkle at that and he immediately makes his way to the kitchen after shedding his trademark faux fur-trimmed coat. That buys you enough time to contemplate your next course of action and how you will break the news to him. You know that, despite the fact he enjoys games and toying with others for as long as he deems entertaining, he expects direct answers from the people who work for him like Namie or Celty. But how could you possibly just outright say you’re pregnant right now? The man is humming to himself while stuffing his face with sushi right now for god’s sake—the mood is totally off!

“—Y/n?”

Your own name startles you out of your thoughts and as you blink to tune back into the outside world you find Izaya learning against the counter directly across from you, eying you with mirth as he holds the plastic container of sushi, nearly half empty by now.

“My, my. Someone seems a bit distracted today,” he taunts lowly. You tense at that, fearing he’s about to ask you what you’re thinking about.

Luckily, he seems to be feeling merciful today as he simply repeats what he was saying while you were zoned out, his tone back to almost childish glee.

“I was saying I met with Goto-chan today—y’know the one who was on ‘vacation’ for while—” he uses air quotes with the free hand not holding up the sushi and you can’t help but to smile at that, unhealthily endeared by this odd, dangerous man.

“—well turns out he has a kid now. He even brought her to our meeting with his gang; what terrible parenting~! Right, Y/n-chan?”

You gulp before barely managing a nod of agreement, suddenly extremely uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

“I would never take my own young offspring to a place like that. Sometimes meetings end very badly, y’know~,” he continues on. You’re suddenly aware of the sweat collecting at your brow despite the moderate temperature in the apartment and you wonder if the panic is showing on your face.

 ‘He...he doesn’t know anything yet...right?’

There’s a beat of silence in which you two just stare at each other. Your face feels clammy and hot but you try your best to maintain a neutral expression while Izaya’s lips are curved into their usual smirk with a playful glint in his deep red eyes—along with something else you can’t quite read but somehow evokes a ball of dread to form deep within your gut.

A few seconds later and the moment is gone as Izaya turns away to dispose of the empty sushi contained and is rambling on about something else you don’t have the energy to even pretend to listen to as relief washes over your body.

The rest of the night is spent curled up on the couch watching cartoons while Izaya works, not bringing up the topic of children again for the rest of the night. You decide waiting a little longer to tell him wouldn’t hurt—you just need some time to gather your thoughts and plan exactly how to tell him.

. . .

Somehow “a little longer” becomes “a lot longer” as every time you approach Izaya with a speech already planned, you look into his eyes and immediately chicken out. To make matters worse, you aren’t sure if you’re just being hyper-aware of all things related to children now or if the whole world is really out to get you but it seems babies are everywhere. A few days after that night you turned on the TV to watch something with Izaya only to find a pregnancy documentary of all things on which Izaya insisted you two watch because he wanted to “learn more about the development of his precious humans.” Another few days after that the two of you were on a rare evening walk together when a small, crying child approached the two of you claiming to have lost his mother while chasing a dog. Izaya unexpectedly took over the situation and handled it exceptionally well, diligently looking for the boy’s mother with you while keeping him entertained to the point he didn’t even want to say goodbye to Izaya when you two finally found his mother.

External factors like that made things a little more difficult for you as you attempted not to let your secret slip out but other factors were a lot more difficult to hide—such as your slowly but steadily growing belly and strange new mood swings. The former was easily remedied by electing to wear your looser more comfortable clothing. Izaya had never been a physically affectionate partner so you didn’t have to worry about him noticing your stomach in a hug or anything like that and he never pushed when you turned down his occasional sexual advances at night citing that you were too tired or had a stomach ache. Your mood swings and other hormonal changes, however, were not so avoidable.

The first time you had raised your voice at him—and over something so small as coming home half an hour later than he said he would—came as a surprise to both of you. After a moment of wide eyed staring from both sides he seemed to recover quickly though and teased you about missing him too much. A few times you had also spontaneously burst into tears for no apparent reason, to which he simply pulled you into his side and started telling you a random funny story about his adventures at work until your tears stopped.

But even with Izaya being so unintentionally helpful in keeping your secret, the pressure and guilt of constantly lying to your own husband and the man famed for knowing everything gradually eats at you day-by-day, hour-by-hour, and minute-by-minute until you are constantly seeking a relief from the stress. Sometimes that comes in form of finishing a whole box of chocolates, sometimes via napping for six hours straight, and sometimes through social media and chatrooms.

One Thursday afternoon you log in to the chat for the first time since finding out you’re pregnant, pleasantly surprised to see your two favorite members already online.

▶▶ [USER01] has entered the chat.

[Tarō Tanaka] Hello, User-san. Long time no see.

[Setton] we missed u User-chan.

You smile, instantly feeling better with the online presence of your friends.

[USER01] hey, guys. whats up?

[Setton] Tanaka-san was just talking about volunteering at the daycare.

[Tarō Tanaka] Ah, I just had some freetime…

[Setton] don’t be modest. ur really amazing Tanaka-san.

[Tarō Tanaka] Ahaha, really it’s nothing! I just played with some babies for a few hours...

[Setton] nonsense. don’t u think Tanaka-san is cool, User-chan?

You take a second too long to answer, suddenly feeling anxious by the reminder of daycares and babies. You wonder if you and Izaya will leave your own child at a daycare some day...if he even accepts the child.

[USER01] ah, yeah..very cool

[Tarō Tanaka] User-san are you alright? You seem a little off today, you’re usually more talkative...

[Setton] u know u can tell us anything. we’re friends.

You hesitate to type, your trembling hands hovering over the keyboard as you consider your options. On one hand, you feel guilty at the prospect of telling more people who are not your husband before actually telling Izaya himself. As the father, regardless of his reaction, he deserved to be the first to know. On the other hand, keeping these overwhelming feelings to yourself makes you feel as if you’ll burst at the seams. So much stress can’t be good for the baby.

  [USER01] well, to be honest I’m….

▶▶ [Kanra] has entered the chat.

[Kanra] Yahoo~! (≧∇≦)/

[Kanra] What is everyone talking about today?? owo

[USER01] nothing much!! just the weather..it has been so hot lately!

[Tarō Tanaka] But it’s September…

[Setton] ???

[Setton] ah yeah, nothing much i guess...how are u Kanra?

[Kanra] Ehh~ What’s with this weird atmosphere!? I feel like everyone is keeping secrets from Kanra-chan! (●´^｀●)

[USER01] no way!! not at all! ah, its already this late? I have to get dinner soon, bye-bye!!

[Tarō Tanaka] It’s only 2 o’clock though...

▶▶ [USER01] has left the chat.

Your laptop closes with a resounding tap and you release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Izaya seems to have impeccably awful timing. You hate to think you were moments away from confessing your secret right in front of him and two mutual friends in a public chat room. You’re fairly certain that must be among the top ten worst ways to announce a pregnancy.

Frazzled, you head to the kitchen to make a snack.

After shuffling through the refrigerator for a few minutes, pushing aside suddenly unappetizing leftovers of Chinese take-out and pizza, you settle on sliced pineapple, kimchi, and a pack of microwaveable rice from the cabinet. Even you knew the combination was abhorrent in normal circumstances, but for the past few weeks you found yourself craving obscure combinations of food from ice cream drizzled with honey mustard to canned tuna and chocolate.

You are only a few bites in when you hear the familiar sounds of the front door opening and your husband announcing his arrival. The lanky man immediately slips into the kitchen to greet you with a small peck on the top of your head.

“I see my favorite little human is enjoying one of her...creations again,” Izaya comments.

When you look up you catch the split second of disgust on his features as he eyes your bowl before he quickly schools his expression back into something more neutral. You almost laugh.

“Do you want me to make you some?” You can’t help but to tease, trying your best to feign a serious expression as you ask.

Izaya looks mildly horrified before playing it off with a dismissive laugh.

“No thanks, I already ate.”

He gracefully breezes past you to make his way through the living room and to his personal office in the back where he make quick work of logging into his desktop. It is a usual occurrence—despite being home his work is never truly finished. He has to be flexible in his field, ready to gather new intel the moment it becomes available. It is strange to compare Izaya to anyone with a regular job but you often find yourself thinking he must really love his career if he invests so much of himself into it. You’re sure that by now he has done enough odd jobs to no longer need the money to live the rest of his life worry-free and yet he continues to work relentlessly, never taking a vacation day once in the years you’ve known him.

“By the way,” Izaya calls out, interrupting your thoughts.

“I have some things to take care of in Ōsaka this weekend. I’ll be back Sunday night.”

He glances up from his computer to send you a teasing smirk.

“Try not to get too lonely without me~”

You nearly choke on a piece of pineapple as you fluster, immediately denying his claim despite his obnoxious laughter drowning out your protests.

It is not until you lie in bed that night, trying to fall asleep, that you recognize this could be the moment you’ve been waiting for.

. . .

The next morning, after seeing Izaya off for the weekend, you grab your laptop and log into your nearly forgotten Pinterest account to look for cute pregnancy announcement ideas. With Izaya physically out of the house for more than 24 hours you feel the pressure of constantly hiding all clues lifted off your shoulders and you feel free to properly put something together that you hope will result in a more positive reaction from him than just blurting it out of the blue. You have to periodically remind yourself that this is his child as much as it is yours and he is just as responsible for creating it so that you don’t psych yourself out imagining him blaming you for potentially ruining his life.

A majority of the pins you scroll through are immediate no’s. They’re either way too corny or tacky and you highly doubt Izaya would appreciate the humor in a “thx for knocking me up!” sticker.

...Okay well maybe he would but you certainly wouldn’t.

By the twelfth page you feel exasperated. You’re almost tempted to just send him an “I’m pregnant” text right now to get it over with—at least you won’t be there to see his expression in realtime. That’s when you stumble upon the pin. You immediately click the little square before it loads into an image that takes up your full screen. On the image is a white marble background, likely a kitchen countertop, with a round white cake in the center with the words “we’re having a baby!” sprawled on top in purple icing.

It is simple, to the point, cute, and most importantly—cake.

Who doesn’t love cake?

 ‘Well, Izaya doesn’t really like sweet things that much…’

You mentally tell your self-conscious to shut up. A cake would be perfect.

With your mind made up, slam your laptop shut and get dressed to go to your nearest bakery and place your order.

. . .

On Sunday afternoon you pick up your cake from the bakery, only mildly embarrassed by the amount of times the owner bids you a “congratulations” and “your husband is lucky man!” When you make it back to the apartment and open up the blue pastry box on the counter everything suddenly feels very real. The cake itself is perfect—exactly like the picture you saw that day on Pinterest. A white buttercream base with beautiful purple letters spelling out “we’re having a baby!” in cursive. There are even small yellow flowers surrounding the edges, as suggested by the shop owner.

It looks absolutely delicious but you feel like you’re going to throw up.

According to Izaya’s text that morning he’ll be back within three hours from now and that’s when you’ll have to wordlessly hand him this cake and watch as his expression morphs into something you’ve likely never seen before.

‘What if he just abandons us?’

Your right hand unconsciously wraps over the now noticeable little bulge on your stomach. It’s too late to have second-thoughts, you reason with yourself, the longer you draw this out the worse it will be. You decide a quick nap would do some good to ease your nerves. You’ll set your alarm for half an hour from now then clean the apartment and put on some soothing cartoons until Izaya gets home. After gingerly placing the cake box in the refrigerator you shuffle up the stairs to the bedroom. You’re unconscious almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

. . .

When you peel your eyelids open you find yourself feeling more calm than you remember feeling after a nap. You stretch each of your limbs and wriggle your toes as you allow your foggy brain to properly wake up.The rays of light streaming through the blinds seem to radiate a comforting warmth to fight of the chill of the bedroom.

 ‘Wait...light!?’

A rush of panic overtakes your system and you scramble to find your phone on the bedside table, nearly screaming when you read the blaring white digits on the screen.

 9:07AM

You didn’t just take a nap, you slept through the night.

Your head whips around to find the other side of the bed neatly made, just as it was when you climbed in bed yesterday. Maybe you still had a chance—maybe some unforeseen thing happened and Izaya had to spend an extra night in Ōsaka. You nearly trip and faceplant several times in your haste to rush downstairs and into the kitchen where you’d hid the cake.

Placing the cold box on the counter, your hands tremble lightly as they slowly lift the lid.

You heart skips a beat.

One perfectly sized slice was missing, leaving only a few crumbs in its wake.

You don’t even have time to have a proper mental breakdown before a door slams shut. “Ah, I see you’re finally awake~!”

Almost in slow motion your eyes slide from the cake to the tall black haired man holding a bag of what some distant part of your brain recognizes as breakfast from your favorite café. Izaya looks unbothered, irritatingly so, as if he had no idea of the inner turmoil you are currently experiencing.

“You must have been exhausted—you didn’t even stir when I came in last night.”

He has the audacity to exaggerate a pout as he whines, “it made me feel unwelcome, y’know~”

“Th-the...cake...” you barely manage to stutter out, struggling to make sense of the current situation.

“Hmm?” he hums, the smirk of his lips making it apparent he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Ah, yes, thank you for the treat~ I don't usually like sweets but this one was surprisingly delicious~!”

He begins to casually place his bags on the counter across from you and pull out the breakfast items, explaining nothing more and even humming a bit to himself as he works to sort the food.

God you want to punch him.

You swallow thickly to steady yourself before trying again.

“S-so what do you think about...it” you ask, awkwardly gesturing to your stomach..

"Hmm? Ah, the vanilla was good but there was a little too much icing—"

"NO DUMBASS, I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE BABY!” You finally snap, face bright red in anger.

Izaya only guffaws, laughing as if you had just cracked the joke of the century. You’re only split seconds from throwing the whole cake at him when his laughter finally dies down and he slides around the counter and to your side. He wraps his arms around your waist, hands gently resting on either side of your belly and you feel your heart flutter unexpectedly at the tenderness of the action.

“You’re so cute when you think you’re hiding something from me.”

Your breath hitches.

“Wh-what? What do you mean by that—” you desperately attempt to turn to face him but his hold keeps you firmly in place.

“I’ve known since day one~” he sing-songs, sounding annoyingly proud of himself. “I’m surprised you finally decided to tell me though. I was starting to think you’d wait until you went into labor and needed a ride to the hospital,” Izaya jokes. “No way,” you protest, “that’s literally impossible—there’s no way you could have known already.”

He moves one arm from your body to swipe at some frosting on the forgotten cake, bringing it over to your lips in an offering you accept without thinking, taste buds tingling at the sweetness.

“Silly Y/n—I’m an expert at planning, y’know? All those times we ‘forgot’ to use protection weren’t an accident~”

Your whole body seems to erupt in flames as a blush takes over your face. This time, you really do hit him.

“I-idiot!!”

#durarara #orihara izaya #izaya x reader #reader insert #durarara fic #drrr x reader #durarara scenario #durarara imagine #izaya imagine #izaya fic #unplanned

[detroitbydark]

Characters: Hound/OC

Summary: when life (or Thire) gets him traffic duty, Hound makes the most of it.

Warnings: None

A/N: I shouldn’t be starting a new work. I really shouldn’t. I also shouldn’t have decided to write a oneshot, talked to @skdubbs and have four chapters plotted out.

This does take place in the Fox and Mouse verse (around chapter 6 if I remeber correctly).

————

“From Kessel to Kijimi, this is Nuna Skii flying you through the dark hours of the night. I’d like to give a shout to-.”

Hound hunches forward over the handle bars to the GAR issued speeder. Traffic Ops. Kriff.

It would teach him to make a bet with Thire. Then again, how was he to know that the Commander actually had it in him to bag the cute little secretary that took up guard duty outside of his office door.

Obviously not Hound.

The ARF Sargent sighs before turning the radio up. He’d rather be back in his barracks with his massiff at his feet than clocking for speeders and traffic violations. It wasn’t that it was below him it was just… well it was below him. He didn’t go through recon school to be looking for our of date tags.

At least he got to listen to his favorite radio show.

“-and more of that sweet jizz music coming from Dantooine as a special favor to my boys in the 332nd”

Nuna Skii’s show on Independent Republic Radio was a favorite of many a trooper. Overnights were osik but the sweet smoky sound of her voice and the frequent shoutouts - often laced with innuendo - were definitely one way to pass the time. And if her voice was stored in the spank banks of half the troopers in the GAR? Well, that was just an added bonus to her show.

“Just you, me and an empty sky lane tonight, eh Nuna?” He asks the radio.

“How about we take another deep dive into an absolutely delicious track, yeah?”

“You could sell me some ocean front property on Tatooine and I'd pay top dollar. Hit me with it, babygirl.”

He only does a handful of stops and doesn’t write a single ticket for the next six hours.

———

She was so karking tired. Like, tired was an understatement. Half-dead might be more correct. She needed atomic grade caf or a bed to pass out in immediately. Glancing at the near stalled traffic in front of her, Nuna can’t help but think she wasn’t going to get either anytime soon.

The joys of working nights.

She really did love her job. To be a young holoradio jockey and have a spot on any station on Coruscant was pretty damn amazing but to have it on IRR? probably the single coolest station in the core worlds? It was a dream come true. Most of the time.

A yawn escapes her lips and her speeder rattles ominously underneath her.

“Oh- no, no, no.” She mutters looking down at her gauges. Warning lights flash brightly. She’d just gotten the kriffing thing out of the shop last week. They were supposed to have fixed the thrusters. The bike leans to the right and Nuna feels the tell tale swoop in her stomach from a sudden drop in altitude. It wasn’t much more than a few feet but if it was anything like it was the week before she needed a landing platform. And fast.

The early morning light bounces off the transparisteel buildings around her as she tries to find the nearest safe bet. Her speeder bike coughs once and jerks again, jostling her helmeted head. She sucks in a sharp breath as it pulls hard, dragging her from the skylane and into open air. It’s a struggle to keep the thing upright as she tries to guide it in for a landing on the nearest platform. Lights flash in her rear view.

“Really? Really?!” She hisses to herself as her muscles strain to keep the bike on course.

She manages to land the malfunctioning speeder, the ungainly pile of scrap plopping down with all the grace of a pregnant nerf.

The Coruscant Guard bike, all sleek lines, gunmetal grey and cherry red accents lands feet behind her.

Hers makes one last wheeze and cuts off. The good thing is, she’s wide awake now. No caf needed.

“Ma’am?”

Nuna turns to see the visage of snarling maw cocking it’s head in her direction.

“You ok?”

She swallows hard. It was a known fact within her small circle of friends that Nuna Skii - the real Nuna Skii not the sex kitten holojockey- was absolute mush for a guys in uniform and the one stepping closer was definitely one that would make her heart pump harder if it weren’t already for the adrenaline of a near death experience. If there was a name for kink involving men in helmets Nuna had it.

“I- uh- yeah” she takes a deep breath because now was not the place and certainly not the time, “I’m good”

The trooper's head cocks the opposite direction as he points toward her handlebars. “You know you're ok to let those go now, right?”

A nervous laugh escapes her lips. Her hands feel stiff from the exertion of the landing and she wiggles her fingers, forcing the blood back into them as she pulls them back toward her. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“No problem. Can I see your identichip and registration?”

Nuna gives him a blank stare for half a second, eyes moving almost comically from his outstretched hand and back up to his helmet. His free hand rests at his kama, index finger tapping idly. He’s got to be kidding, she nearly died and he was going to-

“You're going to give me a ticket?” She pulls her helmet off with little fanfare and hangs it from the handle bars. “Really? I nearly died and now I’m getting a ticket?!”

The trooper holds both hands up, “Easy there. No one said anything about a ticket. Just because you broke about three different traffic codes and at least two vehicular safety ones...” he lets the implication of what he’s said hang in the air.”

Nuna pulls the requested items out of her bag and hands them to the trooper with more aggression than needed but, damn it all, she was so tired she could cry and now she had to deal with a broke down speeder. Again.

She watches as the trooper looks down at the identichip and then back to her. Once, twice, three times.

“Is there a problem?”

“You’re Nuna Skii- I mean like the real Nuna Skii?” The tone of his voice has changed and he almost seems… excited?

“Uh yeah, guilty as charged. Listen, is this going to-“

“Say, ‘flying you through the night on IRR.’”

“Is this part of your usual traffic stops?” Nuna raises a brow at the trooper. Really? Did it ever get strange enough. She swings a leg over the seat and moves to stand. Her legs shake underneath her and tall, excitable and toothy holds out a gloved hand.

“Here, let me help you.”

She takes it because falling flat on her face really doesn’t seem like something she wanted to add to her laundry list of problems this morning. When she’s standing at her full height, which was substantially shorter than the solid wall of clone trooper in front her, she looks up.

His hand moves to the back of his helmet and rubs gently, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound demanding.” He says almost bashful. “It’s just that if-“

She takes pity on him. “From Corellia to Canto Bight, flying you through the night on Independent Republic Radio”

He stands frozen for a moment. Nuna squirms under the unflinching state of his visor until finally-

“Holy Fett! It’s really you! Listen! I- I mean we- the Guard- we’re like your biggest fans.”

The wind whips up through the levels ruffling the hair on her head, deep lilac colored wisps work their way into her mouth and she spits uselessly before reaching up and using her fingers to remove them. “That’s great really-“

Her hands go to her hips. Was this guy for real?

“Hey, I know a guy that does towing. He’s kind of a di’kut but he owes me a favor. I could get your ride towed where you need it. I mean, if you want?”

“Like, for free?” She clarifies.

The trooper looks down at her as if that was a given, “well, yeah.”

“And you want what in return?” Nuna fidgets. This is where the guy becomes a dirtbag and asks for something. He hands back her identichip and registration before reaching up and popping the seal on his bucket. He gives her a lopsided grin as he slips the helmet up his arm. Kriff. He was cute. His dark hair is cut into a floppy Mohawk. A stray curl of it dips down across his forehead and he offers her a lopsided grin. He is about as intimidating as a puppy.

“Can I get a shout out on your show tonight? I mean, the boys are NEVER going to believe this unless you do.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it” he seems to think for a moment and his smile becomes toothy, “unless you’d like to give me your number too?”

She can feel the hot rush of embarrassment to her cheeks and hopes he mistakes it for wind burn. She ignores his comment about her number because, this fine specimen was so far out of her league it was crazy.

“So What’s to stop me from saying yes and not doing it”

“Aww come on, please? You wouldn’t do one of your biggest fans like that would you?”

“What’s your name?” She can’t handle the soft puppy dog eyes he’s giving her. It should be illegal for any dude with shoulders that broad to look so cute.

“Sargent Hound of the Coruscant Guard at your service.”

She nearly chokes. Well, that explained the puppy dog eyes. “You drive a hard bargain, Sargent.” She says regaining her composure. She looks behind him to the GAR issued speeder. “If you can drop me at my building I’ll call it a deal.”

His smile makes her tummy flutter, “I think that can be arranged.”

——-

“You’re full of it” Rule barks “Osik up to your visor!”

Hound is lounging back on a couch that is not nearly large enough for both him and the massiff sprawled out on it. Grizzer lifts his head, licks his lips lazily and lays back down. Hound scratches around the creature's dorsal spikes and the massiff kicks his back foot happily.

“I told you man. It was her. Identichip verified and everything.

“El-Tee? You hear this?”

Lieutenant Thire looks up from his holopad and the boloball game he was watching, “what?”

Rule is grinning from ear to ear, “Hound here says he helped Nuna Skii out of a bind this morning.”

“I’m not just saying it. I did it.”

Hound explains lazily. He doesn’t tell them about giving her a ride home, pretty sure he broke about half a dozen regs just having her pressed up against his back and her arms around his waist and that was before he dropped her at her building. It was early enough in the day that he doubts anyone really noticed. If they did it was worth it to have her hands clutching at his armor.

Hound had pictured Nuna Skii so many times that the fact that she wasn’t a leggy blonde had come as a shock. What she was wasn’t a bad thing, just different. Short and soft with curves in places he wished he could run his hands all over.

“Prove it!” Ryk laughs as he ambles in, freshly showered and pulling his blacks over his head.

“Should we tell ‘Em Grizz, old man? Or should we just let them eat their buckets when it happens?”

Ryk rolls his eyes as the ARF Trooper chats with his massiff. “You know he’s never going to answer back, right?”

Grizzer looks over his shoulder at Ryk.

“Aww come on man” Hound fusses. One mearty hand moves to scratch under the massiff’s intimidating jaw. Grizzer turns into the touch, nearly purring with contentment. “Just because he can’t speak basic doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand it. Isn’t that right boy. We got our own language, Grizz and I. Smartest mas’ in the whole GAR, aren’t you?”

The creatures leathery tail thumps happily in agreement.

“Don’t know about that but he certainly smells a lot better than the bunch of you.” Thire mutters turning his attention back to boloball and cursing quietly. Ryk lifts an arm smelling.

“Not me! I’m squeaky clean!”

“We’re getting off track here” Rule announces in an attempt to refocus the gathered troopers. “What we need to know is how you're going to prove you met Nuna Skii.”

“Did she sign a ticket?” Thire asks, not looking up. When Hound doesn’t answer Thire looks up.

“She was having a really bad morning-“

“You do know when you work traffic you have to ticket people at least once in a while.”

“Apparently, not the pretty ones.” Ryk cackles.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, vod.”

Ryk rolls his eyes as Hound moves to turn the radio on. Nuna’s show was starting any minute. He hoped she’d come through.

———-

Around and around Nuna spins. The wheels on her roller chair are in desperate need of oil and squeak in protest. Nuna is undeterred as she waits for the next commercial to end. Her producer glances at her through the transparisteel divider and rolls her eyes. Yes, she was a child. No, she would not be apologizing. She grabs a cold protato from a greasy Dex’s bag as she makes another loop. If her fans could see her now. She’s got on an oversized tunic and a pair of dark pants that were probably a little too tight but were way too comfortable for her to care. When she woke her hair wasn’t about to do anything for her so now it sits piled high in a sloppy bun atop her head. She was about as far away from the character she portrayed as she could get.

“On in fifteen Nunz” Tully her producer says. Nuna hurries to swallow her food and takes a big gulp of water.

“And that was the Twi’Three with their latest and I’m Nuna Skii keeping you up all night.” She purrs into the mic. “I think we’re going to go to the comms and take a few calls. Whatcha wanna let the galaxy know?”

“Hi Nuna. Long time listener. I just wanted to say that I love the show but I’m getting really tired of your pandering to clones-“

Nuna mashes the end button with gusto before sighing deeply into the mic.

“Babies and Gentlemen. My lovelies. From 2100 til 0500 five nights a week this is a trooper positive show. If you don’t like it I’d suggest you find something else to listen too. Those yummy boys in white are giving the Republic their all. I don’t see a problem with a few minutes here and there dedicated to them, do you?” She asks sweetly. “It makes me happy making them happy. You know what else makes me happy? New stuff from that Mon Cal band, Ach’tu. Coming at you after this commercial break”

———-

“Maker, I love when she does that.” Ryk groans quietly. “She could put me in my place any day.”

Rule nods, “she could read me the repair manual to my deece and I would die a happy man.”

Thire snorts, “What about you Hound. Got something to say?”

“Yeah man” Ryk lifts his head from where he was resting it against the back of his chair. “What does she look like.”

Hound offers a sly grin, “like a million credits.”

“Long legs? Big tits? You're killing us man” Rule says raising a brow, “unless you don’t really know.”

Hound laughs, “I know vod, but I’m not telling.” His brothers roll their eyes.

“For all my blaster babes and bucket bunnies happily messing with republic property. I salute you.” Nuna’s voice grabs the gathered troopers attention. Thire snorts softly, pretending as if he wasn’t listening. “Along those lines I want to send a special thanks to my new favorite Hound dog out there patrolling the sky lanes of Coruscant. Keep being a good boy and next time we meet I’ll give you a scratch behind the ears.”

The room falls silent except for the low snore of a sleeping massiff. All eyes fall on Hound. His smile says I told you so.

A good boy. Yeah, he could be very happy with that.

#clone sargent hound #tcw #sargent hound/oc #am i the official author of the coruscant guard #coruscant guard

[statticscribbles]

Past Hope Pt 4/6

Summary: Reader/Steve Rogers; Reader is immortal and grows up with Steve, always wanting to be something more; but he goes in the ice and life moves on

The woman who shows up at the door is far too polished to be someone that lives in the area. She smiles and nods as you invite her in.

“I’m Peggy, Peggy Carter. I understand you’re friends with Steve Rogers?”

“Has something-“ Peggy nods slowly explaining the plane and the ice. You bite down on your lip till is bleeds and try to smile at her when she asks if you’re all right. You nod wiping at your face and you catch the grimace, as she sees the ring.

“Oh we weren’t, it wasn’t. I’m just holding onto it is all. Safe keeping.” You try to smile again but Peggy pulls you into a slightly stiff hug.

“Y/N, I came here for another reason as well. To offer you a job. If you want.”

“What sort of job?”

“To work for me as-“

“I’d love to.”

“Really? You haven’t heard anything about it yet.”

“I don’t have much here I want to stay with.” Peggy nods in understanding and hustles you out into a car after she helps you pack a few things. You keep Steve’s sketchbook against your chest refusing to open it for now.

You’ve been Peggy’s assistant and secretary for months when she slides a folder towards you. You tilt your head at the file within, details about Project Insight and half of a serum recipe.

“You in Y/N?” You frown looking up and watching her as she explains.

“We’ll give you a serum like his, if it doesn’t work, nothing will change about you. But if it does; you’ll be as the scientists call it an ‘unrivaled asset’” Peggy beams when you say yes. The machine they hook you up too is nothing more than a very intense looking IV drip. The chair however looks straight out of a horror movie, clamps and thick leather bands ready to restrain you. You’re assured its for your safety and as your strapped in you cant help the fear you feel as the scientist straps some sort of mask over your face.

“Just in case. Now start the infusion.” You just feel warm for a second, and spike of heat in your arm as the serum trickles in. You can’t feel it coursing through your blood stream but you feel a sense of dread settling in your stomach. You leg starts to cramp a slow ache that builds up until all your limbs are convulsing and you’re howling in pain. The pain dulls as they remove the restraints and clamps and as you sit up, you can feel something twisting in your stomach before you vomit onto the floor. You look up groggily and Peggy offers a sheepish smile.

“Guess it didn’t work then.” You shake your head. You realize this is an opportunity to tell Peggy about your powers. You ask to talk to her in her office.

“You sure it didn’t work?”

“Yes I just, I had, well have powers, before what just happened.”

“Oh? What can you do?” Peggy leans forward.

“I can heal myself faster than normal, and I don’t think I can die.”

“Don’t think?”

“Haven’t been in many near death experiences.” You shrug, shuffling the handful of papers you hold.

“Yet. How would you feel about becoming an agent?” Peggy writes you into the founding of SHIELD after that. You’re not sure how she manages but it seems everyone who works there does not question your involvement in almost every part of the business. Of course as SHEILD gains more departments you settle on working the information and filing systems. Keeping yourself busy and as anonymous as you can as the other agents change in front of your eyes. You cry when Peggy steps down. The man who takes over for her calls you into his office.

“Ms. Carter has informed me of your unique situation. Rest assured I wouldn’t let it get out to anyone, as far as the others can tell you’re just a damn good secretary, unless you’d prefer another position?” You shake your head and he smiles dismissing you.

You settle working back in the filing system keeping your head down and barely talking to any of the other agents. When Nick Fury steps up and a few years later you meet Maria and Phil you talk more to them. This is due to them being nosy more than you wanting to talk, as time goes on you open yourself up more, still the thought of outliving them never far from your mind.

“Did you hear about Captain America?” Phil’s excitedly moving around the office. Maria rolls her eyes but you can tell she’s excited as well.

“Yes! Do you think he’ll agree to the suit though? It’s a massive responsibility and a huge adjustment, what with being thrown into the public eye and all. Not to mention everything he’d have to learn. Oh god can you imagine the history he’d have to catch up on.” You ignore the talk, you try to avoid thinking of Steve, and how they had never found his body. You push the thought back and settle back into your next report review.

“I still can’t believe they’ve convinced someone to play Cap again. Pretty big shoes to fill!” You chirp on your way to get coffee. Hoping it’ll be enough to avoid talking about it anymore.

“Y/N that’s not what-“ You rush off ignoring the shout Coulson gives. You get back to your desk; both Maria and Phil are gone, having returned to their positions. You glance at Phil’s report from his trip to the artifact recovery sector, you don’t bother reading it, just checking the date he signed it, pushing it into your finished pile. You never had to correct any of his documents anyways.

“Y/N, we still on for drinks?’ Sharon leans over your desk; you look past her blonde hair envisioning brown curls.

“Course Carter, its tradition after so many years.” You leave out the tradition you started with her aunt and instead let her talk about the new Captain America. You try not to say anything, your hands twisting the ring around your finger nervously.  You can still remember Steve’s voice; Peggy hadn’t given you any letters he’d written when she took you on, awkwardly confirming he hadn’t received most if any of your letters. Peggy had insisted he had written and it had probably gotten scrambled in the mail during he war. After she stepped down you’d found the box of his letters, stamped, ready to be sent but unsealed.

You still haven’t opened them; they sit under your bed in a waterproof box. You’d though about donating them to a museum pretending to be an anonymous donor. You’d wonder what they’d have said about how well preserved they were. You’d been so good about not letting your powers slip, so instead you kept them safe under your bed, along with his sketchbook. You’d only looked through the first few pages, sketches of his mother, a few pieces of fruit, and Bucky looking either bored or angry filled the pages.

“So what do you think about it? Pretty wild huh? They said they found the actual shield he used. Which is crazy. I mean the whole thing is crazy right?” You nod, pretending to be amazed by whatever it is she had said. You shake your head trying to clear your thoughts of Steve. He’s dead and gone, somewhere in the arctic frozen and alone.

Phil calls you into Fury’s office first. They both sit, watching you as you settle in the chair.

“Phil has been informed, we’ve opened your file and we need to fill in some missing information. Ms. Carter, Peggy that is, has written here you have a connection to Steve Rogers. Is that true?”

“Yes sir. We knew each other back before he was Captain America, before the war, I lived next door to him.”

“Good, you can help him adjust to the new world then. Fill him in on everything he’s missed.”

“Sir, I knew Steve Rogers, not whoever this fake Captain America is.” You hear the door open and Phil smiles, turning as Fury coughs slightly.

“When you say knew him?” Fury prompts. You squeeze your eyes shut sighing and looking back up, you know you’re probably about to cry but you shrug it off.

“He never knew I was in love with him if that’s what you want.”

“Well at least you’ll get another shot at that.”

You can’t help the laugh that spills from your mouth.

“What?”

“You really think I’ll get with the fake Captain you have? I fell in love with Steve Rogers, not his suit.”

“Real glad to know your feelings on that matter.”

“You even sound like him, I bet-“ You turn around breath catching in your throat looking at Steve standing in the room.

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#steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america #captain america reader insert #captain america imagine #marvel #marvel request #marvel reader insert #marvel imagine #stattic

[thewhumperinwhite]

ATTD: A Magician, Not a Healer (1)

ATTD Masterlist

dream road trip companions: jasper “all my friends are dead” run, will “maybe if i’m polite enough they won’t notice my debilitating ptsd” price, and, you know... Chorus

@whumpitywhumpwhump @favwhumpstuff

TW for: gore/body horror, impalement; emeto; coughing up blood; near death experience (all in flashback); sick/feverish whumpee; infected wounds; brief manhandling of a touch-averse whumpee.

----

Once, in the latter half of his time with Mulciber’s Company, when they could all feel their time running out, the Company had been sheltering in a temple when it was brought tumbling down around their ears, and a beam from the ceiling, three inches thick, had skewered Jasper through the right side of his midsection.

It hadn’t severed his spine, which had been pure luck on his part; if it had he would have been dead and out of reach of any magic but the gods’. But it had pinned him to the floor, and left him juddering on the ground like a gutted fish, vomiting stomachfuls of blood onto the painted tile of the temple floor, and he had had about thirty seconds to watch his life flash before his eyes at double speed.

Then he had raised his head—with more effort than anything he’d done before or since—and seen Silex leaping toward him through the rubble, the Healer’s sweet open face blazing with single-minded focus.

All these years later—and Silex three years in the ground—Jasper did not remember the pain of the wound itself with any clarity. He remembered the terrible wet feeling of his throat being filled entirely with blood, and he remembered thinking—though he should have known better by then—that there would be little enough Silex could do, and hoping only that Silex would hold his hand and speak kindly to him while he shuddered and puked himself to death. And then he remembered the sensation, unlike anything he’d ever felt, of Silex reaching into his guts and pulling them back into the right shape; pulling the blood off the tile and shoving it back inside him, and bullying his viscera back together, in the shape God meant them to be in the first place.

He remembered that first breath, clear of blood, and Silex’s answering cry, weak with relief, and the Healer crushing him forward into a bear-hug, before the rest of the Company converged on them, to pull them both from the wreckage.

There had been classes in Healing at the Academy at Wizard’s City, even in Jasper’s general undergraduate program, and at the time he’d not taken much interest in them. He had thought, along with most of his classmates, that Healers were necessary, but not very glamorous; certainly he had had no interest in pursuing the specialization. They had taught him, then, how to speed the natural healing of a wound, and he could still do it competently enough, which was fine for the normal cuts and scrapes he received in his life as a wandering Magician, without his Company.

However, sometimes the natural course for a wounded man was to die, and in those cases, there was not much an ordinary Magician, like Jasper, could do.

Silex would have taken one look at the boy called Will, tutted in sympathy, and gathered him in like a brooding hen; Silex could, doubtless, have set the boy right in the time it took Jasper to boil a pot of tea.

But Silex had been dead three years, now, a betrayal for which Jasper had still not forgiven him. And Jasper was not a Healer.

Jasper prodded at Will’s wound once more, before they started the day-long trek back to the port city, despite the boy’s obvious discomfort with the physical contact involved. Jasper knew exactly enough to know the wound was bad—that it was at least slightly septic, and probably seeping poison into the boy’s blood—but not nearly enough to effectively treat it.

Which meant the best he could do was get the boy moving, preferably at some speed. That, thankfully, he did have the skill for.

As the dust-storm died down around them, Jasper got to his feet, and pulled his staff free from where it was slung through the straps of his pack. He used the end of it—which was capped in metal, to keep the wood from wearing, and to use as a blunt instrument, occasionally—to sketch a long rectangle in the dust. Then he rubbed his finger in a circle around the blank side of his Runes, and concentrated hard on pulling a largish oblong lump of earth up out of the ground, thinning the packed dust underneath, to avoid leaving too large a hole behind.

With a little more concentration, he carved the earth into a sort of—makeshift saw horse, out of dust and clay. Jasper nudged it forward with his staff, and it obligingly shuffled forward, sliding along the ground, picking up and leaving behind new dust as it moved.

He’d given the dust-horse four blobby legs and a little lump at the front, to make a head. It didn’t strictly need any of those, but Jasper found it comforted people, when magical things came in recognizable shapes.

Will watched this process very closely, blue eyes fever-bright. The monster, Chorus, had several minutes since curled up beside him like a large white cat, and gone to sleep.

“There,” Jasper said, satisfied with his work, and turned back to give Will a grin. “Think you can get on yourself?”

Will nodded--though Jasper frankly didn’t believe him--and began to climb unsteadily to his feet, using the walls of Jasper’s makeshift lean-to for support.

“Why don’t you travel that way all the time?” Will said, eyeing the dust-horse with wonder, and perhaps a degree of distrust.

“Two reasons,” Jasper said, and then without warning picked the boy up around the waste and deposited him easily on the dust-horse’s back, where he sat stiffly, looking comically surprised, like a cat dropped in a bath; with a little effort Jasper did not laugh at him.

“One,” he said, and then had to stop to cough the laughter from his voice. “Ahem. One, I can cast only one spell at a time, so as long as our friend here is active—” Here he smacked the dust-horse on its lumpy flank; the dust-horse didn’t react, though the boy on its back winced slightly— “I’ve got no defensive magic. So if those wolves decide against leaving us alone, get ready to land on your arse.” Will blinked at him, looking alarmed, though he made no move to dismount; Jasper hoped that meant he was accepting the ride. “Two,” Jasper went on, “I may as well hang a sign around my neck that says, ‘I Am A Great Magician, Please Bother Me With All Your Problems.’ I will carry you into Limani myself before I let the general public see this spell.”

“Oh,” Will said, blinking wide eyes at Jasper. “So… laziness, then.”

Jasper laughed, startled. “He says, atop my spellwork,” he replied, pleased the boy still had the faculties left for mild insults.

Jasper turned to squint back into the semi-darkness of the mostly-empty storm shelter. The monster, Chorus, had raised up on one elbow, and was eyeing him lazily, red eyes glowing very slightly in the dark.

“You coming?” Jasper said, and was relieved when his voice came out relatively steady.

“Ugh,” Chorus said, and yawned widely, showing her many teeth.

“It doesn’t matter,” Will said, shifting to keep his balance on the dust-horse’s back. “She can’t go more than a league away from the sword; if she tried she’d just get dragged along behind. She’ll have to come.”

“Ugh,” Chorus said again, with more feeling, and then dematerialized in a puff of white smoke, and was suddenly seated pillion behind Will, on the horse.

Jasper took an involuntary step back, trying to hide the sudden spike in his heart rate.

“You could walk,” he pointed out, raising an eyebrow at her.

Chorus sniffed, raising her chin proudly. One of her white arms was wrapped loosely around Will’s waist. Again, her touch seemed not to bother him at all, which seemed entirely backwards, at least to Jasper.

“Walking is for peasants,” Chorus said haughtily, and Will gave a little huff, half laughter and half annoyance, and shook his head, leaning forward a little to support himself against the dust-horse’s head-lump.

The dust-horse was no harder to move with the addition of Chorus’s weight. In fact, between the boy’s gaunt frame and the lady’s semi-corporeal one, it moved more or less as easily as if it was carrying no weight at all.

“Well—fine,” Jasper said, swinging his pack back over his shoulder, and prodded the dust-horse in the rear with his staff, to get it moving. “Let’s get a move on, then, before the sun’s too hot to walk under.”

It would be the first time he’d traveled with another living creature, since the last of the Company left him. Jasper determined then and there that he would try not to enjoy it. It felt like bad form, to be so grateful for the distraction.

#whump #original whump #magical healing #impaled #near death experience #fantasy whump #all those that dance #death mention #emeto tw #coughing up blood #feverish #infected wounds #touch aversion

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Times Two

Your husband is cloned by a quirk and you just so happen to love that. So what do you do? The only thing that makes sense, of course. 

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Sex (anal and vaginal), DP, foreplay, blowjob, throat fucking, vulgar phrases and words Words:   4681 Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki (x2) x Fem! Reader

a/n: I’m sorry if it’s a bit confusing to tell the difference between clone and real Bakugou. I have it set up like Bakugou = Real. Katsuki = Clone. The reader specifies it as well to try and clear some stuff up. But yeah, this is the naughtiest thing I’ve written in a while and I took some risks, hopefully it works out and y’all enjoy it! Don’t forget to read past the “Read More”! 

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Edit: I forgot to add the anon that requested and inspired this lovely idea, I’m sorry! Thank you so much for sending this in! (⋟﹏⋞)

Being married to the explosive Bakugou Katsuki, there is very little that surprises you. That man, as hot headed and rough around the edges as he could be, was always surprising you in one way or another in the forms of sentimental gestures and words that no other person alive was ever meant to hear. Along with being married to him, you were more involved in the life of pro heros than you ever really expected to be, as in his late twenties, he was very quickly becoming a prominent name and popular icon. A new quirk or odd behavior was always expressed to you by him when he arrived home, as he always had something new to rant about. But this… this was not something that you were familiar with. The fact that you were staring at two sets of glaring crimson eyes made you almost feel faint, tempted to shut the door and reopen it just to make sure you weren't hallucinating. 

“Katsuki…” You stared up at the one you assumed to be the original, as he was dressed in the clothes he had left in that morning, while the other was in some outfit you had never seen before. “Why… What- I mean… There are two of you.” You gestured from one to the other and back again with an accusatory pointed finger, gaining an annoyed and almost simultaneous click of the tongue from both blondes before you. 

“No shit.” The original barked in an annoyed huff, placing a rough hand on your arm to urge you out of the way so they could enter. You followed direction, watching them shuffle in through the door before shutting and locking it into place. 

“How are there two of you? Why are there two of you? Which is the real one?” 

“I am!” With a point to his own face, Bakugou glowered down at you, the familiar snarl and wedding ring on his finger calming your initial fears. The other Bakugou, who stood awkwardly off to the side, wasn’t wearing a ring and he also gave off a different… energy to the original. It was obvious that he was confused and out of place, though he glanced around at both the environment and at you with a sense of familiarity. Before you could really even say anything else, your husband snatched you by the arm and dragged you off to a different room, making you stumble over your feet for a second before catching your footing. 

“No need to drag me around Katsuki—” 

Bakugou brought a finger to his lips, hushing you with an urgency that spiked a bit of annoyance in you. All you knew at this point was that he had better start explaining himself quickly before you got frustrated, and the look on your face must have told him that as he began to spill his guts to you. 

“Sorry. Look, while I was out at a call, a villain touched me and used their quirk on me to try and catch me off guard. It didn’t work, but it did make him. He is literally me, down to memories and feelings. We have to get rid of him!” 

A frown crossed your lips as you glanced out of the doorway, seeing the clone wander about while looking at pictures along the wall. “He’s… not having like a crisis or something? I’m surprised he’s not upset.” 

Bakugou shook his head, letting his hands fall down your arms to tenderly hold your hands. “After the villain was caught, she explained her quirk… They may be exactly like me, but they won’t ever realize they’re going to fuck off when they fall asleep. Fuck off as in… turn into a doll. And even though he has all my memories and shit he’s… very compliant.” 

“Hm… When he falls asleep he’s gonna turn into a doll? Why don’t we just let him hang around until night time, and he’ll go to sleep. I don’t want you to attack him and knock him out or anything… That’s so mean.” You squeezed his fingers as you tried to have him understand your point of view. “If he’s literally you, then he probably feels really comfortable here. What a shame for his final moments of existence to be fear or pain.” 

Bakugou glowered down at you, obviously annoyed with your empathy. “So what, you want to invite him to have dinner and watch TV with us and share our bed?” 

“It’s technically his bed, too. He’s you.” You gave a very nonchalant shrug, ignoring the frustrated furrow of your lovers brow. “I don’t want you to hurt him. We should make his only day alive something enjoyable. Let’s go talk to him.” 

“Babe—” Bakugou sighed as you walked away from him, towards the clone that instantly peered down at you curiously. He seemed genuinely happy at the smile on your face, and though you could tell he wanted to, he was reluctant to touch you. Fiddling with your nails as you came to stand in front of him, you gave a small cough to clear your throat, glancing back at the real Bakugou as he glared at you from his spot learning against the doorframe. 

“So, uhm…” You began, turning your attention to the Bakugou in front of you. “Things can get a little confusing I think, so… How about I call you Katsuki, and him Bakugou.” As you addressed them, you gestured to them, feeling your cheeks flush a bit at how ridiculous you sounded. “I’m used to calling him Katsuki, but it’ll be okay for now. I’ll try not to get you mixed up. Deal?” You glanced back again at Bakugou who merely shrugged in an ‘I don’t give a fuck’ manner, while Katsuki in front of you gave a calm nod. 

“Sure, [Name]. I, oh fuck, sorry—” Having unconsiciously placed his hand on your arm, Katsuki quickly pulled it away as you gave a small flinch in surprise. With this, you saw a flash of confusion and defeat across his face, as if he hadn’t been expecting you to do that. Well, of course he hadn’t. To him, you were his lover, his wife and you loved each other fiercely. Physical touch was important between you and Bakugou, and so you knew that it was just as important to Katsuki. Still, you felt conflicted yourself. You could feel the tension from behind you, fuming off of your husband like it was a tangible object. A clone of himself or not, you knew that he wasn’t going to just let another man touch you.

Deciding to change the subject, you motioned towards the bedroom with a small nod of your head, prompting Katsuki to follow you. “Come on. How about you both get comfortable and we can, uhm… Make dinner, I guess.” 

Bakugou pushed himself up off the doorframe, entering the room before either of you. “I get my tank and shorts, got it?!” 

Katsuki scoffed, reaching behind him to pull his shirt up and over his head. “Whatever, I don’t give a fuck, I’m not going to fight with myself over clothes.” 

“Hey, hey, chill. Please.” You placed a hand on Bakugou’s arm to calm him, though by the click of his tongue you got in response, it didn’t work. “You have plenty of clothes to share. Just pick an outfit.” At this point, you already felt like you were babysitting, taking a step back as the two grown men bickered over what comfortable clothes the other wanted. Though, their huffing and puffing wasn’t really what was on your mind. Looking at them, both shirtless now, you felt a heat spread through your cheeks and down to your toes. You had two versions of your husband in your house, both of them who knew who you were and loved you equally. One was definitely in a better mood than the other, but that only made it better. 

You couldn’t stop the thoughts and visions flashing through your mind of both men pleasuring you from all sides, one fucking you from behind while the other made you gag on his cock. They were identical, down to the scars and minute imperfections on their skin. You couldn’t resist the sinful thoughts, especially as they continued stripping and changing. The instant Katsuki’s gaze landed on you, catching you staring, you took in a breath and shuffled away, mumbling something about having to go to the restroom. Shutting the door a bit too loudly, you leaned against it, placing a hand on your chest as you tried to calm your heavy breathing and racing heart. 

You almost lost it there, [Name]. You gotta calm down, there’s no way the original is gonna fall for a threesome. But this is a once in a lifetime thing! To be fucked by double Katsuki’s… What a dream— 

There was a sudden rough knock on the door, startling you so badly that you almost screamed out loud. Heart now racing even worse, you took a few deep breaths, opening the door to peek out. You could instantly see that it was Bakugou, his wedding ring gleaming against the light as his hand came to rest on the door. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, babe?” 

Opening up the door just a bit more, you allowed him to stand halfway inside so you could whisper to each other. You kept yourself close to him, tenderly caressing his upper arm as you let out a trembling breath. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just… This is a lot to take in all the sudden in a… different way.” 

“Different way?” With a cocked eyebrow, he glanced over your body, noticing the timid stance and erect nipples behind the thin cloth of your t-shirt. Your flushed face and pounding heartbeat were dead giveaways as well, though instead of his usual smirk at realizing your current state, he narrowed his eyes at you. “Are you horny?!” 

“Shh!” You reached up and covered his mouth, standing on your tiptoes to look out and make sure you weren’t being listened to. “Don’t say it so loud.” 

“So you are.” Bakugou continued when you removed your hand, giving a small shrug. “Well let me in there, we’ll fuck real quick and get to— ah, wait!” Now, he shoved himself the rest of the way inside, shutting the door behind him. In the same moment, he pressed you up against it, forcing a gasp from your lips as his leg wedged firmly into place between yours. He liked to do this, pin you up against whatever solid surface he could and tease the hell out of you, until you were writhing and begging for him to fuck you. Though, this was a bit different, as his glare showed little signs of the typical lust you were familiar with seeing. 

“You little slut. You want to fuck both of us, don’t you?” With your hard swallow and guilty gaze, a smirk finally crossed his lips, gripping your chin to force you to look up at him. “I should've known you were going to be like that. You’re so obsessed with the way I fuck you, there’s no way you wouldn’t want it from two of me. What were you thinking, hm? A cock in your ass and your cunt?” His hand began to travel down your body, teasing you with just a hit of that rough touch you craved. “Like hell I’m going to share you with anyone, not even a version of myself.” 

“Why not, Katsuki?” Your eyes darted from his face down his his hips, able to see his erect member pressing against the fabric of his sweatpants. “It would be fun. And so sexy… imagine me, kneeling on the floor, face covered in your cum. Letting you take turns fucking my throat.” Clutching onto his shirt tightly with one hand, you let the other slip between your bodies, slowly and firmly palming his member through the fabric of his bottoms. “You’re already rock hard thinking about it.” 

“You think you could handle it?” Bakugou pressed his leg further up between yours to press against your sex, prompting you to eagerly grind your hips. “I leave you ruined just on my own. I don’t think you’d be able to take it. You’d be begging for mercy.” 

“You underestimate me, love. The only thing I’d be begging for is more.” You tugged him in closer, catching his lips in a heated kiss. In that same second, you were in his arms, pressed up against the door. Keeping yourself latched to him with your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, you sighed softly at the feeling of his member pressing into your sex, wishing despirately to feel him inside you. While one arm kept you firmly in position, the other hand was free to roam, his rough and calloused palm sliding up your bare thigh. His touch was like fire, telling you just how seriously turned on he was, too. Just maybe you could get him to agree… after letting him have a little fun on his own first. 

“Please,” you moaned breathlessly into the kiss, reaching down between your bodies to slip his manhood free from his clothes. “I need to feel you inside me. Right now.” As you moved your poor excuse for pajama shorts and underwear side, Bakugou complied, shifting your body just enough to slip himself inside you. You felt every inch of your body tingle in excitement and pleasure, your heart racing at the sound of his groan against your cheek. He may have teased you about being obsessed with the way he made love to you, but you knew that he was just as addicted. Even though he put on a tough show, you could easily make him do whatever you begged for, like he was wrapped around your little finger. A simple touch or glance could have him immediately wanting you, and now that you had him this far, you knew that you could weasel your way into adding another cock to the party. 

You didn’t have much time to contemplate exactly how you would pull that off, distracted as he began to thrust his hips, fucking you at a rough and hard pace that made the wooden door at your back sqeak and rattle with each movement. Every inch of him vanished within your depths with each stroke, fogging your mind to everything but the irresistible pleasure. You were so engrossed, in fact, that you didn’t hear footsteps approaching the door from the other side, only able to focus on Bakugou’s lips and teeth against your skin. 

Suddenly, you felt an emptiness at your back and a wash of cold air swallow you both as the door to the restroom was swung open rapidly. With a squeal from your lips and a sharp inhale from Bakugou, you began to tumble backwards at the loss of support. Though, just as soon as it had gone, it was back again, though the presence that you found your back against was more familiar and warm than the cold wooden door. You were now pressed against Katsuki’s chest, his hands gripping onto your upper arms tightly to support the weight of both of you. 

“Hey, what the fuck?!” Bakugou barked at his mirror image, glaring at Katsuki over the top of your head. “Get that smirk off your face asshole, who the fuck invited you?!” 

“[Name] did. You think I didn’t hear you two talking in there or could tell what she was thinking?” Katsuki’s hands slid under your arms, gripping and squeezing your breasts roughly. You couldn’t resist a soft gasp, the mutual feeling of Bakugou inside you and now Katsuki’s hands on you making your head swim. “I saw her staring at us. Just like you, I know exactly what she wanted. And you weren’t exactly subtle, fucking against the door like that. It’s like you wanted me to notice.” 

Trembling, you clutched onto Bakugou’s shoulders tightly, lightly rocking your hips to move him within you. “You two stop fighting and just fuck me already!” 

Bakugou complied without a moment's hesitation, using Katsuki’s leverage to keep you stable. Your voice squeaked out in pleasure as you laid your head back, catching Katsuki’s gaze. The lust in his crimson glare was so clear, feeling a heat rush to your face as he smirked against your cheek, one hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “That’s it, babe,” He hissed in your ear, making your heart flutter violently. His other hand left your breast and vanished elsewhere for a moment, and you could only hope that he was preparing himself for what you wanted most. “You’re such a naughty little bitch. Tell me what you want.” 

As Katsuki’s lips came to hover near yours, you could feel it, the hard presence of his cock against your ass as it bounced with Bakugou’s thrusts. The fire inside you began to swell, unable to tear your eyes away from your lovers clone and his hypnotizing crimson glare. “I-I want you both! I want your cock in my ass— ah!” Your voice squeaked as Bakugou increased his speed and roughness, pulling your attention to him.

“Beg harder, babygirl. Beg like the cock hungry slut you are!” 

You knew exactly how he wanted you to talk, how filthy he wanted you to be, and it wasn’t something you were going to resist. “P-please, fuck me in my cunt and my ass! Fill me up and use me!” 

Again, your pathetic excuse for clothing was moved aside, with Bakugou pausing just long enough to let Katsuki sink his length into your ass. You and Bakugou were no strangers to anal sex, so it wasn’t as if that was what shocked you. No, it was the feeling being completely full, not a single inch of you untouched. There was new pleasures you had never felt before, the heat inside you almost unbearable, and yet, you loved it. Pressed between these two men, who were alike in every sense of the word, cocooned you in warmth, bringing an odd sense of sleepiness to your mind. That is, until they began to move, very quickly finding a rhythm. They didn’t alternate like you expected. Instead, they matched each others pace, making you melt into puddy in their hands. 

Trapped in their arms, you couldn’t move, only able to anchor yourself to something with your hands, which clutched onto Bakugou’s shirt and shoulders. Just from the look on his face, you could tell that it felt different for him as well, though in what way you couldn’t really imagine. All you cared about was the fact that he was enjoying it, and so was Katsuki from the groans and soft curses you heard near your ear. Within no time, you could feel it, the pleasure building into a ball in your core, until it exploded in a rush of moans, trembling and uncontrollable jerks of your body. 

“Oh fuck, babygirl, that’s it,” Katsuki purred in your ear, both men having to stop from the pressure of your contracting walls. “You’re such a good girl.” Through your panting and soft gasps, Katsuki turned your head with a push of his thumb, catching your lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth instantly, forcing you into that submission that you loved and leaving you breathless. 

“She’s gotten off too easy,” Bakugou huffed, removing himself from inside you and leaving you aching for his return. “Put her ass on the bed.” 

Complying, Katsuki released your lips and removed himself from you as well, taking on the full weight of your body to walk you over to the bed. Dropping you onto the mattress, you bounced with the impact, gazing up at both men expectantly. Smirk on his lips, Bakugou removed his shirt, coming to stand at the side of the bed. Without questioning or waiting for instruction, you scooted your body closer, instantly taking his hard and throbbing cock into your mouth as you rolled over onto your stomach. Propping yourself up on your arms, you lovingly tended to his member, running your tongue along the underside and stroking him with that firm grip you knew he loved. With a pleasured sigh, Bakugou ran his fingers through your hair, stopping at the base of your head to apply pressure to keep you from going anywhere. 

Taking a curious glance up at his face, you could instantly tell why, his gaze following Katsuki as he climbed onto the bed behind you. Eager hands gripped your ass, squeezing and spreading you open, even though you still had your shorts and underwear on. “What a filthy little slut you are, drenched through your clothes like that.” A hard smack to your ass followed his words, making you squeak and unconsciously take Bakugou’s cock deeper into your mouth. After another rough slap, your clothes were pulled down, leaving you exposed to him. The chill of the room was short lived as he slipped his cock between your legs, urging you to squeeze them together before he began thrusting his hips. The way his cock stroked against your clit sent tingles across your skin, your moans muffled by the dick in your mouth. The more pleasure you received, the more you gave, turning Bakugou into his own panting and grunting mess. 

Eventually, with a tight grip of your hair, you knew what was about to happen. Removing your hands from him, you kept your mouth and head loose for him, allowing him to thrust his hips. He was going slow at first, like he usually did, soaking in the feeling of his tip pressing into the back of your throat. You could barely register the sounds coming from behind you, merely following direction as you were told to squeeze your thighs together tighter. 

Bakugou scoffed, glaring at his clone with a smug smirk on his lips. “What’s wrong, you fucker? About to cum already?” 

You gave a muffled squeal as Katsuki increase the roughness of his thrusts, feeling yourself about to peak again just from the stroking of your clit. “Whether you’re in or not, she’s going to be covered in cum by the time I’m done with her. I’ll cum as many times as I fucking feel like.” With a shuddering of your body as you came, you were given some reprieve from the cock in your mouth to breathe, fighting between coughing and moaning as you stroked Bakugou’s length in the meantime. As you were still cumming, you felt a hot release all over your legs, listening as Katsuki grunted with his own release. It coated your thighs and cunt, surprising you a bit with how much there seemed to be. With a heavy sigh, Katsuki took a moment to recover, spreading his cum across your pussy with his thumb. “What a pretty sight.” 

Before you could even think of a response, Bakugou forced his cock back into your mouth, fucking your throat at his own pace and roughness. You couldn’t even react to the sudden feeling of Katsuki’s cock sinking into your pussy, fucking you from behind at an equally rough pace. It was exactly as you had imagined, a mixture of pleasure and pain that had your eyes rolling back, once again completely at their mercy. Every inch of your body felt more sensitive than it ever had before, even your nipples as they scraped against the fabric of your shirt enough to add to the pleasure. 

“You want my cum all over your face, babygirl? Or do you want to swallow it?” Bakugou didn’t give you any chance to even answer, coming to his own conclusion just from the pleading furrow of your brow and tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You wanted to feel it on your skin, to have him dirty you up as his counterpart had. You wanted to feel the heat of his essence on you, to watch his face as he jacked off on your face. So, that is what you received, with Bakugou removing himself from your mouth at the last moments. He gave you just enough time to open your mouth wide, catching what little bit of his cum on your tongue that you could while your body rocked with Katsuki’s thrusts. 

Leaning his head back as he came, Bakugou’s smirk spread, watching your body for a moment before he gripped your chin, giving Katsuki a quick glance that told him to stop. The clone did so, slowly removing himself from within you before filling you back up again in slow and teasing thrusts. Using his thumb, Bakugou spread his cum across your cheek and to your lips, allowing you to lick and suck it off his fingers. 

“You like the taste of my cum, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” You answered breathlessly, staring up at him through blurry and teary vision. “I love it. I love your cum—” Your voice hitched as Katsuki removed himself from your pussy, sinking his cock instead into your ass as deep as it would go. Once done, he grabbed your arms and shifted your positions, laying down as he pulled your body back against his. Understanding, you kept your legs open and displayed, panting as you smiled up at Bakugou. 

“C’mon, love. I want you both to fuck me until you’ve had enough. I told you I could take it.” 

And so you did, for hours you were treated how you had wanted to be, subdued and ravaged until your limbs were sore and body was sticky with cum and sweat. Both men had plenty to give and were just as eager to pleasure you, giving you everything you had ever wanted out of the experience. When you finally had enough was in the shower, as Bakugou enjoyed using the strongest setting of the removable shower head on your clit while they both fucked you mercilessly. You were positive that you had never had such a powerful orgasm, even sure that your mind had gone black for a few seconds as you came, pressed between their bodies just like when you had started. 

Now cleaned and so worn out you couldn’t quite move your legs, Bakugou carried you to the bed once dried off, shoving the dirtied comforter off the bed to leave mostly clean sheets for you to lay on. As he sat you down, he softly moved some hair out of your face, kissing your lips sweetly. “How was that, you stupid girl? Got your fill?” 

Smiling, you shook your head, gaining a confused cock of his eyebrow. With a wave of your arm to call Katsuki over as well, you patted both sides of the bed. “I want double cuddles.” 

“At the same time?” Both men huffed in similar tones simultaneously, making you giggle. 

“Yes! C’mon, lay with me.” 

Giving each other annoyed glances, both of them crawled into bed on either side of you. While you stayed on your back, they both squeezed in close, with Bakugou’s face resting in your hair while Katsuki pressed his lips against your cheek, showering you in soft and gentle kisses. Your heart fluttered from the sweet affection of both men, feeling for the moment that you were the luckiest woman in the world. Even if it was just for the evening, having two living version of your husband there to love you was something that you would never forget. It was sad to lose one of them, which was the particularly more affectionate one at the moment, but at least you had given him an enjoyable existence. 

“I love you.” You spoke softly, already beginning to feel sleep pulling at your mind as you reached up to softly stroke both of their cheeks. 

“I love you, too.” Both spoke in unison, filling your last waking moment for the evening with a fluffy and warm sense of love that would carry you on into your dreams.  

#cutesuki-lemons #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou x reader #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #xreader #request

[harmonie-writes]

I Don’t Need a Hero Prologue

Johnny x reader 

Genre: fluff with a smidge *cough* lot *cough* of angst

Superhero AU 

AN/Warnings: there is a lot of background that leads up to the actual story. Language, minor violence, slight mind control

Summary: not everyone has superhero powers, and those who do don’t always become heros unless they absolutely have to. 

Word count: ~3.1k

----------

You’ve always known that your childhood friend was blessed with super strength. It was especially apparent when your best friend, a four year old boy at the time, managed to rip off the door from your little play set outside while playing house. Let’s just say the “husband” of your pretend home had to help you paint new doors multiple times to replace the others. 

You on the other hand didn’t have any super special talent or lift a car without the car jack. You were just you,  Johnny’s regular childhood best friend. But that didn’t change anything, at least not until high school. 

“I’m going to do it.” You looked at Johnny like he grew a second head.

 “Excuse me, what?” Flicking your forehead Johnny slid into the chair next to you at your usual table in the cafeteria. 

Rolling his eyes he leaned in towards you, “I said, “I’m going to become a superhero”.” Leaning back he took in your slightly confused, but also slightly worried expression.

 “Johnny I love you and everything, but where the hell did you get this idea?” You asked eyes skimming every inch of his face for some tale-tell sign. And find something you did. You noticed the slight glance of Johnny’s eyes land somewhere behind you. Brows furrowing you turned slightly to see the largest clique on campus, and the head cheerleader shot him a wink with an exaggerated hair flip. Of fucking course that’s what would make him do something so dangerous out of the blue… you had a small frown painted on your lips when you turned back around only to see Johnny send a wink back. Slumping down in your chair you placed a hand over your eyes as you felt your chest tighten slightly. “Have you actually considered this or is this just to get a pretty girl's attention?” You accused a slight edge seeping into your voice.

“(Y/N), everything will be fine. I'm practically bulletproof,” he rolled his eyes as he reclined in his chair.

  “Johnny, just because you have super strength doesn’t mean you are bullet proof.” You saw the glint in his eye that he was about to start an argument but you quickly stood up. “We can talk about this after practice, alright?” You told him with a sigh as you gathered your books and tray. Johnny closed his mouth and gave you a small nod as he watched you disappear through the throng of students.

——

Lacing your spikes you made your way out to the track ready to burn off the anxiety you still felt creeping at the back of your mind, and what a great way to distract yourself than to sprint around the track. Getting into the starting block you felt the tingle of heat of the track run through your fingertips. Lifting your head all you saw was the endless expanse of the seventh lane before you closed your eyes and waited for the blank of the starting pistol to sound. The bang resounded in your ears as you took off from the starting block, but you felt overly warm. The next thing you knew you had finished your lap and looked at the coach who was keeping time only to see surprise etched into their face. Looking around you realized that everyone was looking at you that way and the other students from your heat had stopped running. “What?” All your coach did was flash the stopwatch in their hand. 0.02 seconds. Your jaw dropped before looking down at your spikes, or what was left of them.

 “I thought you said you didn’t have a power,” your coach was still recovering from shock.

 “I-I don’t, or at least I didn’t,” you mumble as you tug the end up your ponytail between your fingers. 

——

Flopping on your bed you card your fingers through your hair before the sound of your phone went off. “He’s like clockwork,” you mutter reaching your phone and answering, not bothering looking at the photo ID. With a sigh you hold it up to your ear, “Hi Johnny.” 

Wow, I’m hurt. You sound like you don’t enjoy when I call.  

You could hear the fake hurt in his voice. “It’s not that, I’m just tired.” It wasn’t a complete lie, you were tired from everything that happened during the day up until now. 

So, about earlier I- 

“I need to tell you something.” You didn’t want to cut him off but at the same time it was your goal to prolong the inevitable. 

Uh ok, what is it? 

Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes, “IthinkIhavesuperspeed.” 

What was that? You think you have what?

An exasperated groan past your lips as you ran a hand down your face,  “I said, “I think I have super speed”.” 

What no way! I would’ve known that by now! 

“Johnny I’m serious,” you whine hoping he’d actually take you seriously. 

I’ll believe it when I see it.

“Fine.” Getting up you did just that and made sure you were still on the phone with him. Racing outside you couldn’t help but watch the little blue lighting dance across your skin as you raced to his house, greeting his parents as you sped up the stairs to his room.

  “Hi,” you gave him a coy smile as you slid into his room. Johnny rolled his eyes as he spun in his desk chair to face you.

 “C’mon, you live next door that doesn’t prove you have super speed.” 

Shoving his shoulder lightly you rolled your eyes, “Ok then mister buff guy, how do I prove it?” Johnny’s eyes lit up getting a brilliant idea as a smirk slowly slid into place.

  “If you’re really that fast then bring take out from somewhere and I’ll set up a movie to watch.” 

“Challenge accepted muscles,” you giggled, zipping down the stairs. Oh you had an idea that would definitely make him believe you, and it involved the small family owned pizza place in New York. 

— — 

Johnny has barely picked out a Netflix movie when you came waltzing into his room with a large pizza box. His eyes grew to the size of the moon seeing the name of the company on the box. “No way, we went there for our class trip two years ago. You actually ran to New York?” Johnny’s eyes were like small galaxies in awe at your new found ability.

 “I figured this would get my point across pretty well,” you shrugged, sitting down on his bed as you flipped open the pizza box.

 “I will never question you again, ever,” Johnny said as he took a slice from the box. You both ate in comfortable silence as whatever movie played on his tv. “Does this mean if I want something you can go get it for me?” Johnny asked, giving you large puppy dog eyes.

 “Maybe… only if you’re buying,” you gave him a large shit eating grin as you watched the giddy smile slip from his lips as he shoved you. At least for the time being, you were happy that you stopped your best friend from running headlong into the dangerous world of crime fighting.

——

If only you knew how little your opinion or feelings mattered in a few short weeks.

——

Fridays were always yours and Johnny’s hang out day and you were excited for the plans you made coincidently the same night you gained your speed. You were almost to Johnny’s car when you noticed him lip locked with the cheer captain before she slid into the passenger seat of his car. Gripping your backpack a little tighter you raced home ready to dive under the covers of your bed.

Johnny’s eyes caught the familiar electric, blue streak before averting his attention to his current company, the inkling of forgetting something tugging fibers in the back of his mind. Whatever it was couldn’t have been that important right?

——

Glaring at your phone in your hand you looked at the door seeing an all too familiar silhouette outside the glass of the front door. Exhaling loudly through your nose you let your fingers grip the door handle before opening it. 

“What do you want?” You watched the small glint of confusion pass over your best friends eyes before it was masked with anger. 

“What do you mean ‘what do I want’? Where the hell is this coming from?” Johnny furrowed his brows. 

Crossing your arms over your chest and a none-too-pleased look plastered on your face as you stated the obvious, “I don’t know, does Friday ring a bell?” 

The frustrated wrinkles that were etched on Johnny’s face slowly fade away as he realized what he forgot on Friday. Running a hand through his hair he sighed realizing that’s what he forgot. “Oh.” Johnny looked up when he heard the hurt in your voice. 

“Was I really not even worth getting a text saying you wanted a raincheck or that we couldn’t watch our movie this weekend?”

 “It’s not that… I just got… busy,” Johnny trailed off not meeting your eyes.

  “Yeah I kinda noticed,” the bitter tone made a reappearance in your voice again.

  “What was that supposed to mean?”

  “It means nothing. It’s late I’ll talk to you later.” You tried closing the door only for a foot to stop it.

“Wait no we need to talk about this.”

 “There is nothing to talk about right now,” you mumbled, turning your body away from your giant of a best friend. 

Walking up behind you Johnny placed his hands on your shoulders to spin you around to face him. “Of course there is something to talk about! We can start with why you are acting like a bitch. Just because you got your new found power doesn’t mean you have to be an entitled one!” 

Blue electricity crackled like static off your body effectively making your friend remove their hands from your shoulders. “You never talked about being a hero until some pretty blonde who you never even talked to gave you the time of day!” 

“At least she is encouraging me to make a difference, that I can actually save somebody!”

 “So just because I said that I worried about you getting hurt means nothing? Wait, no, don’t answer that,” your lips pressed into a thin line. You were done with arguing and just wanted to go cry in your room, but you had something you needed to do. To be honest you weren’t really sure how you managed, but you managed to sweep Johnny up and speed up to his room before tossing him on his bed and disappearing with a streak of blue trailing behind you. 

Johnny propped himself on his elbows as he stared at his closed bedroom door. What the hell just happened.

You on the other hand had closed the front door to your home pretty harshly and slumped against it bringing your knees to your chest, as you tried to suppress your sobs. The boy was all brawn and no brain, and couldn’t have been more oblivious.

----

People were actually surprised to see you and Johnny not connected at the hip, and even more surprised to see him with the queen bee. 

You on the other hand just shrugged it off trying to not to seem as affected by your tarnished relationship with your now ex-best friend. The table you used to sit at was now empty and the only time you spent inside was to pick up lunch before heading out to the track where you’d meet up with other speedsters of the like. 

—————

Oh to think that this was only calm before the storm.

—————

There has been an obvious wedge driven between you and your brawny friend, but that seemed to continue getting wider the longer Johnny had the cheer captain on his hip. All it took was for you to stay late after practice in hopes of not running into your current problem, Johnny Suh. 

Placing your feet in the starting block you focused on the track and the point where it started to curve. Eyes closing you could almost feel yourself immerse into one of the heats. The way the starting gun was loaded and all runners called to the ready. The familiar tingles of electricity started to crackle along your body, and you took off at the sound of the imaginary starting gun shooting the blank into the air. 

Opening your eyes though, you weren’t ready to meet the honeyed locks of the women who drove the wedge in your friendship. The over-the-top floral smell that rolled off her me you scrunch up your nose. “Um, can I help you?” you glanced around the area of the track to see if she was looking for someone from her team, or even Johnny.

She took one quick look over her shoulder before giving you a condescending smile. “Actually sweetie you can.” As her words left her mouth a pink mist had started to seep off her arms and fingertips, and move in your direction. 

It seemed as if your feet were made of lead and the only thing you could do was jerk your head to the side, but even then the attempt was futile. The mist seemed to put a veil over you and you felt like a prisoner in your own head. It felt like cotton was in your ears, your mouth clamped shut, but you could smell roses. 

You watched as your body lurched forward damn near close to super sonic with your fist raised. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry as you watched your fist connect to her cheek. What the hell is happening?! You wanted to stop your limbs from their continuing tangent, and they did, but as a result from an outside source.

An almost bone crushing grip had wrapped around your upper arms, before you felt a weightlessness. You have never felt like a ragdoll before but now you could market that one of your list of things you never realized you haven’t done before. All too quickly your back landed harshly against the turf field before skidding to a stop.

Shouting could be heard from your team mates, and a voice you knew all too well was starting to make its way through the fuzz inside your head. “YN! What the fuck is wrong with you?!?” Johnny yelled as he helped pick up the cheerleader.

You wanted to answer, or scream or do anything other than just watch him walk away with the person that left you smelling roses. A could tell a shadow had passed over your face and soon a light was being shined into your eyes.

Your coach and a sports medicine student noticed how dilated your eyes were while they examined them. It wasn’t until they rolled you onto your back that they realized how drastic the impact with the ground really was. “We need to get her in to see the nurse,” your coach mumbled, moving to shift one of your arms over his shoulder while the med student did the other. 

“Do you think that maybe YN was affected by a super?” The student questioned as they caught a glimpse of your face that still seemed to be in a trance. 

“It’s a possibility, but I’ll need to discuss things with YN and their parents,” the track coach let out a sigh knowing that the results of today would end with you being suspended.

----------

The nurse took one look at your face before ushering the two holding you to lay you on the bed. After digging in the cupboard for cleaning antiseptic, gauze and athletic tape the nurse looked at your coach. “Have you called the parents yet?” 

“Just about to head down to the office and call them to come down.”

The nurse just nodded before starting the task of taking care of the turf burns that ran along your shoulders, arms and knees. Leaning in close to wipe the grit away she heard you mumble words under your breath. The word ‘rose’ falling endlessly from your lips. Having her suspicions confirmed she shook her head once more before waiting for your parents to arrive.

----------

Your head turned slowly as you heard the hurried steps of heels enter the nurse’s office. You’ve already discussed your suspension with your coach, because well a fight is a fight regardless of super-usage, or who instigated it. When you met your mother’s and father’s eyes you couldn’t help but look back down at your hands fisted in your lap. 

“Oh baby,” your mom whispered as she made her way to sit next to you on the bed.

Not missing a beat you looked over at your mom and whispered, “I didn’t have control of my own body… it, it wasn’t my fault.”

“I know baby. I think there’s some things we need to talk about,” your mom told you while taking one of your hands. Your father grabbed the stool and scooted it closer. 

His eyes were trained on his hands as he wrung them. “Bub… I’ve been offered a promotion.” 

“Well that’s good?” You weren’t entirely sure where this conversation was going.

Your father let out a sigh as he looked over at your mother. “It’s not here at the office. The company wants to move me to a new office a couple cities over.”

A small frown touched your face as you took in the news. “So… what exactly does this imply then? Do we have to move?” 

“Your father and I have discussed a couple of options on our way over,” your mom told you while taking one of your hands, “one of them is that we do move to be closer to your father’s job.”

“Or, I can stay in hotels during the week and come home on the weekends,” your father finished. Your parents could tell by the look on your face that you were mulling over your options.

Chewing on your cheek you thought of all the shitty things that have happened over the past couple of weeks that all led up to today, and honestly running from your problems seemed like the better option currently. Your best friend, the person you grew up with, the person you may have started to develop feelings made it very clear where you two stand today. It’s not like he’d care right? I mean, he’s never used his power on me before… until today.

Finally looking at your parents you decided you had an answer. “I think I’d be okay with moving.”

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