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studioghibelli · 5 months

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hungry eyes- a joel miller x reader

summary: it had been a long, hard, horrible week, and you are all alone, reminiscing of the man who always made you feel better.

warnings: post outbreak!au, female reader, a tiny itty bit of the good ole’ angst (apocalypse sort of stuff), flashbacks to better times, smut (piv sex, f receiving oral, dirty talk, creampie, unprotected sex, daddy kink) age gap (20s/40s, you can decide ;) ) reader has hair, pet names, slightly emotionally closed off joel (what’s new lmao).

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni

word count: 5k….ish

The marigold caramel of the rising sun bathed the room in comfortable serenity, casting shadows across the wall that danced like ballerinas. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have called it a beautiful morning.

The mattress in the corner of the tiny apartment was torn and old, stained by years of neglect and stiff with the smell of mildew, but it was the first mattress you had come across in weeks. You had a peaceful nights sleep, about as peaceful as you could given the circumstances.

You were unsure how long the apocalypse had been going on for. Five years, ten years, one hundred years- it was all the same to you. It had brought nothing but pain to your life, and that included Joel Miller.

Joel.

Cripplingly handsome, extraordinarily strong, silently austere, mysteriously reserved. You had fallen for him as quickly as you had lost him. Quite literally lost him.

He was there one morning, and then he was gone. Like a leaf flying in the breeze, a grain of sand travelling through a current, a stray piece of grass floating in a valley. He had just….. vanished. Nothing to remember him by except a worn Longhorn shirt that smelled like him. Whether he left that piece of himself on purpose or simply forgot, you weren’t quite sure.

Despite his absence, his betrayal, his abandonment- you still yearned for him, you still loved him, you still craved him.

The week had not been kind to you.

Four near death experiences, consistently water soaked socks, and the most important and arguably the worst of them all- the last stash of your favorite granola bars. Sometimes you would have weeks like this with Joel, when nothing in the world was going right, and he always managed to make it feel better. He was gifted like that.

“Joel.” You whimpered, stopping in your tracks. The forest was alive with chirping birds, rattling leaves. The hot sun filtered in through the thick canopy of forest above, no respite from the thick, chewable humidity.

Tears were pricking your eyes.

“Almost there baby.” He already knew what was upsetting you, and he hadn’t even turned around. He could tell what was up with a simple glance, a simple inflection in your voice, a simple sigh.

You both had been up since dawn, on your feet the past 13 hours, trying to make your way to Boston. You had heard of a quarantined zone out that way. It was tiring, hard, tumultuous work.

“I’m tired. We haven’t eaten in three days. I don’t… I can’t keep this up.” Your voice was less of a whine, more of a deflated statement of abandon. You were genuinely on the edge. Was any of this even worth it?

He turned to you, his face emotionless. His beard had grown out from its usual scruff, eyes deepened by dark eye bags. You had been asking him to get more sleep, but he always insisted on taking watch while you slept.

Joel walked to where you were, a few long strides behind him, and gently grabbed your shoulders. His large hands were warm and well worked, and after years of contracting and fighting, his palms were left rough and calloused. Nonetheless, they were familiar, and warm, and inviting.

“You can keep this up. Because you’re strong. You’re a fighter, have been since I met you.” He pushed a stray piece of hair that had fallen into your face out of the way, his thumb rubbing against your cheek, helping swipe away the piece of mud that had dried beside your chin. “Come night fall, I’ll have found us a good, safe place to stay. We can rest for a few days, relax a bit.”

You nodded your head slowly, knowing he was a man of his word. Joel gave you the ghost of a smile, pressing a hot kiss to your forehead, before grabbing your hand and helping you along the rocky path.

The air was cold and stale, drying out your nostrils with every deep inhale you took. You looked to your left, the sunlight hitting your eyes.

No Joel.

It didn’t surprise you, you knew what to expect. But some mornings you wish you could squeeze your eyes shut and open them, to find yourself transported to a different world entirely.

One where Joel was there, tracing his fingers along the middle of your back, the way he always did to wake you up. One where he was pressing hot kisses on your shoulder blades, the way he knew you liked best. One where he was still dragging his fingers through your hair so he could get a better look at you, even though it always made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

Your chest felt tight as you inhaled a sharp gasp of air.

You’d give anything, just to feel him one more time. Just to know his love so intimately and dearly once again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl.” He groaned in your hair, his sweaty body sticking against yours. His chest was hot and flushed, beads of sweat gathering beside the crows feet at his temples.

Your legs has been wrapped around his middle, and your arms had been thrown around his neck, quietly chanting his name as he took you, your back against the soft, dewy morning grass.

“Yeah?” You asked, your voice tantalizing and soft.

Joel groaned, looking down at you. A picture of perfection. Radiant, gorgeous, inspiring perfection. In a world so chaotic and constantly changing, you were the one constant he always had, the one constant he always wished to know.

“Joel?” You whispered, your bottom lip gathering between your teeth.

He had been on top of you, thrusting deep inside you for only a few minutes by then, the Summer sun beating down, cascading you both in thick golden light. His shoulder blades flexed just right beneath the waves of sunny radiation, the age in his face showing more clearly, yet not taking away any of his solemn, sturdy attractiveness.

He was focusing on your pussy, his fingers slowly rubbing at your clit. He could always tell when you were getting close to orgasm, like he knew your body just as well as you did. Perhaps even better. He knew when you were being pushed to your limits, when you needed to stop for a rest on the road, when you were being so stubborn you couldn’t realize how hungry you were- Joel just knew it all. He knew you. The way a man in love was supposed to know his woman.

At least that’s how Joel saw it.

He’d never admit it though. He wrestled with how young you were, how many years he had on you, and a part of him wondered if he had ever made you feel forced. If you had, a part of his heart ached for you, and a part of his soul hated himself. But you were smart, and Joel trusted you more than those unwanted, dark thoughts often pestered. You would tell him, if he had ever hurt you. He knew you would. Because although you were young, by God were you smart, witty, headstrong. No one could control you.

He loved you deeply for those aspects that so many would be intimated by, and Joel knew he was done for. He knew you were all that was left in this decaying, decrepit world, all that could ever make him feel content once again. You brought a sense of normality into his life that he had been craving for so long.

His fingers were dragging circles across your clit, his cock twitching deep inside of you. You were whimpering beneath him, snapping him back to reality. He remembered you had said his name.

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I-I-” Your voice was cut short as his eyes met your own. His eyes. Oh, how you adored them. Dark and alluring and sweet and welcoming and- you felt your stomach tightening with an orgasm, groaning as your nails dug into his shoulders.

This next part. Well, you didn’t mean to, you swore you’d keep it to yourself until the day you died. But as your orgasm washed over you, all you could do was cry out: “I fucking love you, Joel.”

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, swinging your legs off the side of the bed. This tiny apartment would have to do, at least for now. You had pushed a book shelf over the door, and you were three stories off the ground, offering you some sense of protection. If that was even possible.

You knew nothing was getting inside, and you’d have a hard time getting out, considering that wooden bookshelf took you a considerable amount of strength to push over. Your stomach churned at the thought. Could you even get out?

Boston wasn’t far now. About a three hour walk or so. You could see the outline of the city outside the grimy window, its buildings slowly collapsing, covered in blankets of destruction.

Some odd sense, which danced between relief and grief, overtook you. A dream to get to Boston that you had shared with a man no longer there. A dream that felt so unobtainable, all those years ago. Somehow, by God, by the universe, by fate, whatever it was, you somehow managed to get here.

You wondered if Joel had, too.

Your stomach jolted at the thought of his name.

“Joel.” You murmured to yourself, your hand resting on the window. The thought of seeing him again, his eyes meeting yours, his skin on yours, filled you with a bundle of nerves. To have him, the way you once did, lit some fire within you. What if…?

You knew he was a capable and smart man. If anyone could make it on their own, it would be him.

Hell, you did. You figured he must have, too.

You dug through your bag, finding some deodorant and toothpaste that you had miraculously looted while out on the road, getting ready for a day you’d inevitably spend inside, lounging and thinking, day dreaming and yearning.

But that was before you heard the gun shots from down below, the heavy hum of an armored truck driving through the road. Clickers shrieked at the sudden noise in the distance, and you ducked behind your window, eyeing the outside world

Faceless people dressed in heavy armor, about a dozen or so of them, jumped out of their vehicles, heavy guns in their hands as they started breaking off into pairs.

“I want all this looted. Every bit of it.” Someone shouted, a man’s voice muffled by his mask as he waved his fingers in the air, sending them off into pairs with the simple motion. “Whatever you find, report it back to me. Two hours tops.”

They scurried off, three groups heading for the building you were currently in. Surely it would take some time for them to reach the third floor. Surely.

You slid down the wall, legs to your chest, staring in front of you. Well, that man didn’t sound very nice, and you weren’t sure what your fate would be if he found you.

Then again, was anyone really nice anymore? Were you nice? Even Joel Miller, who certainly had his soft spot for you, could have been a major dick sometimes. You had your moments too.

But it seemed like the good had always outweighed the bad, at least with the two of you.

“I could probably eat pie every day. I miss it so much.” You groaned, swinging your head back. Your feet were shuffling against the falling leaves, too lazy to pick them up. Fall was coming, spreading its beautiful oranges and reds throughout the street, coating the earth with a special atmosphere that only came around autumn. It had been your favorite, before the world turned. When you were much younger, much cleaner, much sweeter.

Joel was quiet beside you, jaw clenched tightly, eyes focused on the road ahead. It was nothing new. You had been with him for two months now, and he rarely talked. He listened to you rant, cry, laugh. He grunted, shrugged, nodded- but rarely talked. When he did, he always had something good to say. Or he snapped at you. There was no in between with him.

“What was your favorite?” He asked quietly.

You glanced at him, a bit surprised he gave in to your mindless conversation. It made your heart beat quicker, your stomach rolling up to your throat. It made you feel special when he asked you questions. Like he actually wanted to know, he wasn’t just filling in the silence.

“Hard question. My nana made a killer coconut cream pie. French silk was good. Pecan too.”

“Pecan.” Joel basically moaned the word, his stomach growling lowly. “God, I loved pecan.”

You giggled, looking at him, the flickering shine of adoration clouding your orbs. “I wish I could make you some.” Your voice had dropped to a whisper, and he stopped walking, glancing at you.

“Don’t start lookin’ at me like that.” He warned, after a long look at you. Your eyes had been dancing a silent dance with one another, an odd feeling of… care…shadowing over the two of you.

“Like what?” You really had no clue, but the look on your face betrayed your obliviousness.

“Like you’re fallin’ in love with me.”

Shaking your head quickly, you felt embarrassment heating up your cheeks. “N-no…. I’m not.”

“Mhm. I know women, I know that look y’all get on your faces, when you’re startin’ to fall. The eyes, Chico. They never lie.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, lips twisting with perplexion. He noticed, and cleared his throat before explaining.

“From a movie my brother ‘n I used to watch. Called Scarface.”

“Never heard of it.”

A sweet, honeyed chuckle escaped Joel, and he shook his head, adjusting the strap of his gun across his shoulder. His eyes flashed with something, a feeling you had never seen him omit before. If you were foolish enough, you reckoned it could be grief, mixed with a little bit of sadness, a little bit of guilt. “Yeah, you definitely ain’t gettin’ no lovin’ from me, girl. You’re too young.”

Your stomach dropped at his brutal honesty, and you continued shuffling along, thinking about pecan pie and the handsome man beside you.

Your thoughts were snapped by the handle of the apartment door rattling, trying to budge against the book shelf. That was quick. You looked around for somewhere to hide, grabbing your gun and settling on a spot beneath the bed.

It was going to be a tight squeeze, but you managed to crawl your way beneath it.

The door finally broke open, the bookshelf falling with a mighty thud, and you heard heavy, labored breathing. Yeah. Heavy bookshelf. You thought to yourself, a bit stoked you somehow managed to get it there yourself.

I mean it didn’t really do anything in the end, seeing as someone had managed to make it inside but…. well, whatever.

You placed your hand over your mouth to hide your breathing, hearing the mysterious person begin walking around. You heard the window open.

“Dammit.” A husky groan escaped the person that you now recognized as a man, his voice barely above a coherent whisper.

You closed your eyes, tight.

“Dammit!” Joel snapped, slamming his fist against the tree trunk. Pieces of bark broke off beneath him, crumbling against his leather boots.

“Whoa there, cowboy! Look- now your knuckles are bleeding. Just calm down.” You shuffled through your bag, finding some gauze and rubbing alcohol.

“Those fuckin’ liars. I can’t stand liars. Said there was a car here, said they swore they saw one!”

You picked up Joel’s hand, gently pouring the alcohol over it. He barely winced. For some reason, that turned you on. You shook your head slightly. Now was not the time! “It’s okay. We’ll figure something out, we always do, don’t we?” Joel ignored you, sulking for a bit.

“You got pretty hands.” He whispered after a long moment of silence. “They’re soft.” Joel’s thumb brushed across your knuckles, bloodless and smooth.

You looked down at him, gently brushing a piece of hair off his face. The hint of anger still sat in his eyes, although they were softening ever so slightly. “What happened to not loving me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Joel chuckled. “I didn’t say I loved ya.” His voice was gruff. Tired from a long day. Exhausted from his rage.

You gently cupped his cheek before dropping it, all in the same movement. “The eyes, Chico. They never lie.”

He sat there quietly and reserved, letting you bandage his hands up. You were unsure if he was annoyed, his face void of any emotion, but you could have sworn a smirk swept across his lips.

The heavy footed man shuffled, opening drawers and pushing through shelves, grunting and huffing to himself. That’s when a pair of boots caught your eye. Dark brown leather, embellished with a black sole and darker embroidery. Shoes that you had known well, many moons ago.

Joel.

If it wasn’t him, you risked losing your life. If it was him, you risked falling apart. It was a loss either way. So you finally spoke. “Joel?” You croaked out, tears welling in your eyes.

The man stopped walking, and you heard the floorboards creak as he turned his head. His jeans stretched tight against his thighs as he squatted down, lifting up the bed sheet that was hanging off the side, masking you from view.

And there he was.

A little bit older. A little bit rougher. A little bit dirtier.

His hair was curling around the sides of his face, grayer than it had been, and the wrinkles were more evident in his forehead, deep lines beside his mouth. The end of the world definitely aged the man. Yet still, despite it all, he was so handsome.

Inside your chest, anger was brewing, clawing at your rib cage, screaming to be let out. You were stuck in a maelstrom of love, anger, and a whole lot of curiosity. You wanted to hit him, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted him to apologize, you wanted him to fuck you, you wanted him to hate you, to love you. You were stuck in a pit of emotion, not knowing what your next move would be.

Everything was happening so quickly. Blood was rushing to your head, white noise filling your ears.

“Well I’ll be damned.” He smiled, a real, genuine smile, and extended his hands for you.

You wasted no time. “Where the fucking hell did you go?” You snarled, pushing away his hand as you belly crawled out from underneath your hiding space. You didn’t want to think about how stupid you probably looked right now, crawling on your stomach, grunting and sweating from the heat.

“Well, darlin’, I’m sorry I got caught up with the wrong people.” He raised his hands, leaving you just as confused as before. “Was expecting a warmer welcome.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Huh?!” You finally cried out, throwing your arms up.

“I went out that mornin’ lookin’ for some….” Joel groaned softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Some flowers.” He snarled through gritted teeth, almost embarrassed. “And there was a group of these…. I don’t know what to call ‘em. Scouts? Held a gun to my head, asked if I was with anyone. I said no, y’know. Saved you from a whole world of hurt.”

You stood there, in disbelief that he was actually there. Your anger soon dissipated. Now you were left with a terrible, awful, horrible pit in your stomach. Guilt. Sadness. Love.

“I can’t believe…. I-I- you’re here. In front of me.” Tears were pooling in your eyes, threatening to spill. Your heart was beating ten times faster than usual, your chest hurting from the sudden influx of emotion

Joel took a step towards you. “In the flesh, darlin’.”

“I didn’t know if you were dead or…. or alive or….” You groaned, burying your face in the palms of your hands as a sob shook through you. “It was so hard. Being-being alone, without you.”

Joel grabbed your waist tightly, and you slowly looked up at him. “You won’t be alone without me, ever again. I promise you. You hear?” He gripped ahold of your chin, tilting your head upwards. You looked up at him with those big doe like eyes of yours, and his thumb slowly brushed across your bottom lip. “As much as I would love to show you how much I’ve been missin’ you, we got some fuckin’ asshats barrelin’ through the place. I was lookin’ for a place to leave, that’s how I found this room.”

“Where you in this building?”

He nodded. “Stopped here a couple nights ago. Was on the top floor.”

“We were here, in the same building, and neither of us even….. even knew.” You muttered, eyebrows furrowing. Life was a curious thing.

“Must’ve been fate, huh?” Joel grinned, walking back over to the window. He put a hand on his hip as he leaned the other against the wall, straining his neck. “By now they’ll still be on the first floor. Our best bet is either sneakin’ out, or jumping from the second floor.”

“Jumping?” You repeated.

“Mhm.” Joel was chewing on the inside of his cheek as he turned to face you. “You’re the lady. You make the choice.”

You stood there for a moment, weighing over the two rather atrocious options. “Second floor.” You finally said. “A hurt leg is better than getting shot down.”

“Then we jump. Together.”

Joel grabbed your hand, before stopping abruptly. He looked you over, staring at your chest with narrowed eyes. “Is that my Longhorns shirt?”

“Yeah. You left it, that morning.”

He shook his head, a smile on his mouth. “I was wonderin’ where that went. It looks much better on you.”

“Nah.” You shook your head, your mind wandering to the way his broad shoulders had once looked beneath it, the way his strong arms flexed under the sleeves. Your knees were starting to go weak.

You both made your way towards the stairwell, quietly creeping down until you reached the next floor. You saw a door ajar in the back of the hallway, walking towards it. Joel stepped in first, making sure it was clear, before grabbing your hand and leading you inside.

It was a simple apartment, but what the most appealing part of it was, was a made bed. A fluffy comforter, four pillows, and a knitted throw blanket. It was tempting. It looked soft. It looked like the world had somehow managed to miss it entirely, not once touching it.

It looked like it was calling your name.

How you missed it your first scan through, you had no clue.

You and Joel shared a look.

“As much as I want too….”

“What are the odds they’ll hear?” You whispered, a smile cracking at your mouth.

Joel tossed it around in his head, groaning. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Hearin’ or not.”

Your hand grabbed his collar. “I do. I think it’s a good idea.”

“You’ve always been a trouble maker. Of course you think it’s a good idea.” He snorted.

“Me?” You feigned a gasp, your eyes innocent behind batting eyelashes.

Joel groaned, giving in, before tugging at the hem of your shirt. “Off.”

You obeyed, tossing it off your body as he began undoing his belt. “So damn pretty.” He murmured, his hand tracing down your bare stomach. He didn’t say it, but you knew behind his eyes, he had missed you deeply.

“Been with anyone prettier since we’ve been apart?” You asked teasingly. A part of you was actually curious, morbidly so.

“Wouldn’t even dream of it, baby.”

Your heart fluttered, and he took a step forward, taking your body in his hands. “I’m gonna fuck you on that bed, then we’re jumpin’ out that window. Nothin’ else for now.” You opened your mouth to protest, and he cut you off. “Now I know you want to lay with me, talk about pie and shit, but we can do that somewhere else. Somewhere safer. Got it?”

You giggled softly and nodded. “I promise that next time, I’ll take real good care of you. Okay?” You nodded once more in agreement. “Now that’s a good girl.”

Joel’s fingers went to the zipper of your pants, tugging them off until they pooled at your ankles, quickly discarding your bra. Wetness had been pooling in your red cotton underwear since you first saw him, a throbbing deep within your stomach. But now, with his roughed up hands on your skin, the smooth richness of his voice- all of it just added to your arousal, making your head spin with excitement.

And Joel knew this. He knew you like the back of his hand.

All the time you’d been apart, all those lonely nights and long days without you, he thought of you. Embarrassingly more than he’d like to admit. Joel was a tough man, he knew he was intimidating to most, but you had always seen right through him. You had always known that deep, deep, deep down, behind all the violence and rage, there was a kind heart, and a gentle, understanding man. Although that was reserved for your eyes only.

“Kiss me, Joel.” You whispered, looking up at him.

“Joel?”

“Oh, sorry. I meant…. daddy.” You purred softly, grinning up at him mischievously.

“That’s better.” He pushed you back on the bed, climbing over you. Joel leaned down, pressing a searing kiss to your mouth. It was a hungry kiss. The kind that made you forget everything going on around. The kind that consumed your entire being. In this moment you were him, and he was you.

A shiver ran down your spine.

“Need you.” You groaned against his lips. “Need you so bad.”

“Yeah? You want daddy to make you feel good?” Joel asked quietly, his hand creeping down behind your underwear, fingers rubbing against the slick of your folds.

The tip of his index finger traced a line down your clit, swollen and throbbing with the promise of soon coming pleasure. A mewl escaped you, finger nails digging into his bare shoulders as his fingers explored you. He groaned into your shoulder blade, plunging two finger inside your tight, wet cunt.

“Jus’ like I remembered. Nice and tight for me. She’s real wet, too.” His mouth was watering, teeth gently nipping against the lobe of your ear. “Can’t wait to taste you.”

“I thought we were just fucking then jumping-”

“Changed my mind.” He fired out quickly. “You got a pussy worth dying for.”

You both shared a laugh. A real, genuine laugh. The kind that was only ever shared between two bonded people, between those who knew each other deeply, intimately, intensely.

He pushed your legs back as he slid down, hooking his rough arms around your thighs. Your legs rested on his broad shoulders, and you watched with eagle eyes as he leaned forward, his tongue extending towards your clit.

That first lick made your eyes roll back, your neck falling into the pillows behind you. A sigh of relief, a sigh of love, escaped you.

Joel hummed against your pussy, savoring the way you tasted. He knew how to make you cum in under five minutes, he had done it many, many times before, but there was something about lapping you all up, taking his sweet, precious time with you, that turned him on more than anything.

He was the one making you feel good. He was the one causing you to come undone.

Nothing in the world felt better than that.

You ran your fingers through his hair, staring at him through your eyelashes. “So handsome.” You whispered, a whimper coming soon after.

“Gonna make me blush.” He grinned, sucking your clit into his mouth. He swirled his tongue against your button, fingers digging in to your soft thighs, leaving his imprint against them.

“Oh, Joel. Oh, baby. Right there.” Your back arched against the covers as he sucked harder on your clit, introducing his fingers to your opening once more.

Joel pushed them in to the knuckle, his ring and index finger slowly pumping, stretching you out, before they sought after that soft spot he knew made you crazy. The spot he knew made you lose your mind. All because of him.

The thought made Joel moan against you.

“Taste so damn good, babydoll. So fuckin’ good for me. So perfect.” Joel muttered against your wet pussy, lapping you up like a man who hadn’t tasted water in weeks.

“Oh. Oh, so close. Gonna cum for you.”

Joel continued fingering you, hitting your g-spot with every pump of his fingers. “Yeah? Gonna cum all over daddy’s tongue?”

“Mhm.” You were panting now, grinding your cunt against his face, bucking your hips- he had turned you in to a wild animal, panting and clawing, hungry for him and only him. No one else had ever seen you like this, and no one ever would.

You were pulling so hard at his graying curls his scalp was aching, but Joel didn’t mind. As long as he got to taste his girls’ cum in the end.

“Gonna-gonna… fuck, Joel. I’m cumming!” You cried out, perhaps a bit too loudly, pulling his face closer to your pussy as he sucked and licked, not wasting any drop of the wetness dripping out of you.

When you came to, Joel had gotten on top of you, his fingers still gingerly rubbing your pussy, bringing you back to the real world.

“God I missed you.” You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him closer.

“I missed you too.” He whispered, gently rubbing his nose into yours. “I thought about you. A lot.” His voice was serious, quiet, and a little bit embarrassed. Joel wasn’t good at talking about these things, but he would make an effort for you.

You gently cupped his face, rubbing your thumb over his sharp cheekbone. “Now go on and fuck me, Miller. We don’t have all day.”

You gently reached down, wrapping your hand around his hard cock. You felt it throb. He placed his hand over yours, slowly guiding it to your wet entrance. “‘M gonna fuck you real good. Real hard. The way you deserve.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, and all you could do was nod.

Joel ran his hands down your side, eliciting a giggle. The tip of his dick slowly pushed inside of you, stretching you slowly. He pulled back, gently thumbing your clit as he watched himself slowly enter in to you. “Jus’ perfect. Perfect girl for me. A dream.” He murmured to no one in particular.

You gently grabbed hold of his thick biceps, feeling the sticky sensation of his sweat. You clenched yourself around him, and his head snapped towards you. “Not gonna last long if you keep that up. Hope you know.”

“You just started!” You teased breathlessly.

Joel chuckled, leaning forward. He had pushed himself fully inside, before pulling all the way out and slamming back in. You gasped at the sudden movement, quickly becoming acquainted with this pattern.

“So big. So good.”

He smirked an arrogant, cocky smirk, pounding deeper, harder, yet keeping the same pace, never getting sloppy or impatient. He was good at controlling himself, good at keeping his eye on the prize. And you were most certainly the prize he wanted most in this life.

“God, Joel. Jesus Christ.” You gritted your teeth, your stomach tightening as he hit deep inside you, hitting that spot once again, now over sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“Think you can cum for me again?” He grunted. “Think I can get that pretty pussy to gush for me?”

“Ohhh, God. Yes! Yes. Please, make me cum, daddy. Please.” You were begging now, overwhelmed with the feeling of being full of him, being so close to him.

It had been a long, long time. And yet, like an apparition, a god, a ghost, he had appeared once again. Just as perfect and handsome as the last time you ever saw him. You knew in your heart of hearts it happened for a reason. You belonged together.

“Yeah, I’ll make you cum.” He reached down, slowly circling your clit. It was soft and wet against his finger, just begging to be touched.

You looked up into his eyes. His deep, dark, gorgeous eyes, darkened by desire, full of you. They softened once they caught glimpse of you, but they were still glossed over with hunger.

His fingers tangled themselves in to the tresses of your hair, inhaling you. All of you. Devouring you with his mind, body, soul as he took you. Hard. Deep. Passionately.

Joel gently bit down onto your neck, sucking and kissing, marking you as his. Only his.

“Gonna cum, Joel.” You mumbled into his cheek, his fingers keeping the same pace and motions as before against your clit.

You clenched against him as your orgasm rushed over you, white hot pleasure soaking in to your senses, blinding you to the world around. Everything was Joel. Everything was him. As you came, the only thought on your mind was Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

Like a prayer. A chant. A song.

He grunted into your skin, his hips slapping into your body. Over, and over. “Gonna cum in you.” He mumbled. He didn’t care if it was a bad decision. He didn’t care. All he knew was he needed you, the way a dying plant needed water, the way the ocean needed the moon.

“Yeah? Go on, baby. Fill me up.” You begged, running your hands down his back.

Joel moaned, an animalistic growl escaping him as his cock twitched, filling you with his cum, his own orgasm washing over him in droves. In that moment all you knew was him, the way his skin felt, the way he smelled, the way his mouth tasted.

And in turn all he knew was you. The sweetness of your voice, the thickness of your hair. You. You. You.

Joel collapsed in to you, catching his breath as his face rested on your neck. You rubbed his back, fingers massaging in to his shoulders, coaxing him back to life.

“Missed you.” You whispered. “So much.”

He nodded slowly, holding you close to him. “I missed you.”

There wasn’t much time to dilly dally. You heard footsteps coming up the stairs down the hall, and both of you stood up, reaching for your clothes. You watched him dress as you mindlessly clipped your bra, eyes full of love, full of contentment.

His fingers slowly buttoned up his flannel, a lazy smile hanging on his face. You knew he was content, just like you. Lacing up his boots, he made his way to the window.

“When you jump, aim for that.” He said, pointing to the pile of thrown out couch pillows, moss covered and stained with mud. “It’s our best bet. Make sure your legs are tucked as close to your chest as possible.”

“Are we going to die?” You asked, perhaps a bit too casually. A painful attempt to mask your nerves.

“Someday. But not today. I promise.”

You nodded, slinging your backpack over your shoulders. “Well jump together?” You whispered.

Joel nodded. “Always, darlin’.”

You gulped thickly. “I know you love me. You always have.”

He scoffed. “Says who?”

A smirk crossed your face as you propped your leg up on the window, staring at the earth beneath you. It didn’t seem so far from this angle, didn’t look too bad. “The eyes.” You whispered, turning to face him. “They never lie.” You pulled him in for one more kiss, deep and passionate. He reciprocated, chuckling against your lips as he kissed you back, holding you close to him.

When he pulled away he looked at you like you were the only thing in this world that mattered.

“I never should have told you about that damned movie.” Joel gently brushed his thumb against your cheek, kissing you once more. “On the count of three, got it?”

You nodded.

One

Two

Three

When you jumped, hand in hand, neither of you were too sure what would come next. But both of you knew, although it was unspoken, that whatever came next would be much easier together.

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katsukikitten · 4 months

Text

just a little soft shared moment with Enjin I wrote it straight into Tumblr drafts. God speed.

Today was not your fucking day, the worst luck you'd experienced in a long time. Coin purse stolen, the last of your food expired and your 'friend' that owed you a favor bailed tonight.

Leaving you outside in a dank alley that smells a bit like piss and old frying oil right next to the best bar and grill in the damn city.

"Fuck today." You grumble, grabbing for your half crushed pack of cigarettes, eagerly opening the box only to be met with disappointment.

Your last fucking one.

Thankfully it wasn't crushed, placing it between your black lipstick clad lips before lighting it and taking a deep inhale.

Today fucking sucked.

A burst of sound pulls your attention as you see a broad shouldered man with a furrowed brow and snarl on his lips as moved more into the shroud of the dark alley.

"Shit. The hells my light?"

You look over to see the tall blonde patting down his jacket, cigarette dangling from his mouth as he searches his person, "God damn."

But he enunciates a little too roughly and his cigarette, his only cigarette, falls right into a pile of shit.

Guess his luck was worse.

Not just a trash pile, no his luck was so poor that it landed in a literal pile of shit, nestled into an old used plunger that got tossed into the trash outside. Funny how the entire city, your entire world, was made of trash and yet there were still things still too dirty to touch in the Abyss.

"Fuuuuck." He groans long and low, hand running through his blonde hair before his eyes meet yours. Bright yellow like the moon in the torn picture books your mother used to read to you as a kid.

"Got a smoke?" He gives a half smile, one that's a little too friendly for your liking but some cleaners were like that. Overly friendly, 'cleaning up' the abberant beasts just outside the city even if no one fucking asked them too. For a moment your cynical side thinks he expects it, that you dig around for a rare cigarette that took you ages to fucking scavenge for.

Then he sighs, running his broad tattooed hand through his hair, gripping at the back of his tattooed neck.

"Dumb question I know but I'll trade ya for it." He starts looking in his pockets for his free meal ticket he won off a bet with Riyo, tongue salivating over the thought of the fresh meal from his favorite watering hole but he needed the nicotine after his shit day.

"This is my last one." He looks at you bewildered, watches you take a drag and the ember burn the paper down.

"What?" He gawks incredulously.

"This is my last one." You repeat letting the smoke trindle around your damning statement.

He visibly deflates with the sound of his heavy exhale, eyes fluttering shut, tic in his jaw and fists clenched tight.

"I can share." You pull til the ember is half way.

"What?" He asks again, it makes you scoff but your pretty lips still turn up into a cat smile.

"All you can do is squawk? I said I'd share." You extend your hand to him, the burning stick between two delicate fingers with sharp claws, he studied it for a moment.

"Take it before I change my mind." Quickly his tattooed fingers brush yours as he applies the perfect amount of pressure to secure the stick as you let go. Bringing it to his lips right over where your black lipstick stained the unfiltered paper. He takes in a deep breath, holds it and lets it burn his lungs to make sure it sticks and exhales it as if it'd take away all his bad luck.

And maybe it did.

"Fuuuuuuuck." He groans again and the sound has you shifting from one foot to the other, made your stomach flip and you look away before you imagine him overtop of you groaning like that.

"Well, hope your night turns around. Seems pretty shit." Giggling at your own joke as you turn on your combat boot clad heel.

"Wait!" He has the stick dangerously dangling between his lips again, thick digits wrapping around your wrist, "I didn't get to pay ya."

"It was only half." You scoff but he's already producing a meal ticket from his pocket, holding it between two fingers, you can just barely read the details. Free three course meal, app entree and dessert.

"Then we can split this." He brandishes it some more, waving it around like it would entice you to sit across from this stranger with an easy smile that squeezes your heart like a vice. That smile made him dangerous. You avoided danger, people, more than anything your entire life, it was doubtful you'd be sharing a meal with a rowdy ass janitor.

"It's only faaaair. Don't wanna owe ya one." He chuckles, taking a short drag as he tries to get the most out of it before the ember can burn his lips. He gives a wolfish grin as if he can tell he's wearing you down, waving around that damn meal ticket again. It makes your stomach growl as you think of the mouth watering lava cake they were infamous for.

Your eyes snap up to his, there it is, that golden moon gaze that looks at you with a softness that no one has before. Makes you grit your teeth.

"Fine." You snatch the ticket from him, "But I get to pick the dessert."

"Fine by me sweetheart." Stubbing the last little bit of the smoke out before he gently guides you into the rowdy bar by the small of your back. You don't recoil away encouraging his feather soft touch to become a little more firm, a little more real. It causes you to turn your head up at him as he holds up the noren to duck under before he smiles down at you in reassurance with that deadly, dangerous smile of his. For once you smile back, wiping away the smudge of lipstick that transferred from your shared cigarette.

Maybe just maybe the two of you would turn your luck around.

At least for tonight.

#enjin x reader #kitten writes enjin #gachiakuta enjin

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momotonescreaming · 1 year

Text

In the scene where Joyce goes over to Scott Clarke's house, he has what looks like a terrarium in his garage, so @unclewaynemunson and I decided he should have a pet snake. And now I have a small fic for it. Clarkson. (2.5k)

Eddie feels his knees creak as he squats down on the dirty floor of the pet store, holding back a grunt as his body strains with the effort. He sounds like Wayne when he pulls himself out of his armchair — it’s an old thing; the fabric soft and worn, the springs creaky, and the filling so deflated it’s easy to just sink into it. Wayne makes the same grunt when he heaves himself out of it, and hunched over on the floor Eddie feels much the same.

He ignores his body’s aching protests, shifts his weight, and contorts himself to better see the bags of cat food that have been crammed all the way at the back of the shelves. The cheap food is always at the bottom here, hidden and hard to reach so you’re more likely to go for the more expensive stuff at eye level.

There was a small colony of stray cats that hung around Forest Hills, and one had decided to make their home underneath the Munson trailer. He used to feed them bits of his dinner — torn off chunks of meat he’d save on his plate for them — until Wayne told him to quit pissing about and eat his damn dinner already.

He can’t just let the cat starve, and if he keeps saving them bits of his own meals to feed them Wayne will keep bugging him about not finishing his food. He didn’t use to be as bad — not since Eddie was a kid — but after everything, with Eddie’s recovering body, the old man worried.

So Eddie found himself on the floor in the aisles of the pet store, trying to do the mental math on which bag of cat biscuits was the better deal. Comparing overall price versus weight of the bag, counting on his fingers until he thinks he’s figured it out. D&D math was way easier than whatever the fuck this is.

Wayne will forgive him, Eddie thinks. His penchant for taking in strays had to come from somewhere. And with the cat living directly underneath them, they’re like, basically roommates. It would be rude to not feed them. Isn’t that what Wayne’s southern hospitality is all about?

Pulling a bag off of the shelf, Eddie tries to hold back another grunt — debating whether it’s easier to just give up and sit on the floor. They have animals in here, they must keep the floor relatively clean right? He manages to get the bag off of the shelf and resting in his arms with only minimal complaining, wallet chain jingling with every movement.

Standing up, his knees do click, and Eddie shakes his legs out as he leaves the cat food aisle, ignoring the way his Reeboks squeak against the tile floor. He turns the corner and finds himself almost face to face with Mr Clarke. Scott? Eddie’s never sure what to call him these days.

In the comfort of their new trailer he can tease Wayne about his boyfriend Scott, but before all that he was just Eddie’s teacher Mr Clarke. And now he’s in this weird middle zone where he’s not sure how personable he can be with the man. Especially not in public. He’s dating his uncle, but that’s not exactly something people can know. Should he call him Mr Clarke to be safe?

Fuck it, Eddie can probably go a conversation without addressing him by name. Maybe. Probably.

Scott looks up from the piece of paper he was engrossed in with a startled oop noise. His shocked expression quickly melts away as soon as he sees who he’s bumped into.

“Eddie! Funny running into you here.” Scott exclaims, tucking his piece of paper into his pants. He looks down at the bag of cat food Eddie’s clutching in arms and furrows his brows with a confused look. “I didn’t know you and Wayne have pets?”

“We don’t,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I feed stray cats and Wayne grumbles about it.”

Scott startles out a laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides with a smile. “Sounds like Wayne.”

Eddie smiles back. It’s nice, seeing that even the mere mention of his uncle will draw a smile out of Scott. He got to see how happy Wayne was every day — the way he’d smile when he’d pick up the phone and realise it was Scott on the other end, the way he always seemed lighter after one of their dates. It was nice to confirm that on the other end Scott was exactly the same.

“I’m hoping that if I just keep feeding them, Wayne will cave and let me keep one.” Eddie adds, shifting the weight of the bag of cat food in his arms.

“I don’t doubt you’ll be able to manage it,” Scott adds, looking at him a little conspiratorially. It’s a dorky move he know Wayne would smile at. “I won’t tell him your plan.”

“Thanks,” Eddie laughs. “But what are you doing here? I imagine you’re not also feeding a small army of stray cats.”

“No, I’m upgrading to a bigger terrarium,” Scott starts, still smiling. “And wanted to see what we have locally before I make the trip to the bigger store in Indy.”

“Terrarium?” Eddie replies, furrowing his brows. Wayne hadn’t mentioned anything like that. And he’s been over to his house many a time, he must have seen it. “You have a lizard or something?”

“Snake actually,” Scott replied happily.

“A snake?” Eddie blurted out before he could even think about holding the words back and pretend to be normal about this. “Mr Clarke, that’s so fucking metal!”

Scott rubs his hand across the back of his neck, slightly awkward and more than a bit flattered. “Thank you. Wayne tells me that’s quite the compliment coming from you.”

It doesn’t surprise him that his Uncle talks about him to his boyfriend, but it was nice to hear. That Wayne thinks about him when Eddie’s not there, that Wayne wants Scott to know more about how Eddie works. That it’s a compliment if Eddie calls something ‘metal’. Something to bridge the gap between two of his favourite people.

Wayne had sat him down one morning, when Eddie was still pyjama clad and bleary from sleep, and talked about him and Scott. It seemed a little like pulling teeth, that Wayne was forcing the words out of his mouth. But he had done it, the pair of them sitting together at the dining table, coffee clutched in their hands, and Wayne had talked about Scott.

That him and Scott were officially together now, and he cared deeply about the man, but he wanted to remind Eddie that he would always come first. He was his boy, and nothing would ever change that. He was his son and he loved him.

It meant a lot, hearing those words that were previously left unspoken. Eddie knew that Wayne loved him, that he took care of him willingly, but Wayne was never one for words. Eddie was, and he remembers the way his heart clenched when Wayne told him.

But he made sure to remind his Uncle that he was allowed to think about himself. What he wants. And if he wanted Scott Clarke, if he wanted to go out with him then that was okay. Eddie wouldn’t hate Wayne for putting himself first for what seemed to be the first time in his life.

He wasn’t sure if Wayne would listen, but that was okay. Eddie had hugged him over the dining table, feeling the corner of it dig into his side as he clutched at the soft fabric of Wayne’s flannel shirt. His uncles hands were rough and calloused, yet a comforting warmth as they rested on Eddie’s back. Neither of them mentioned the teary eyes.

“You can call me Scott, if you’d like,” Scott says, breaking Eddie out of the trance he found himself slipping into. “Mr Clarke feels a bit formal.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure what you— “Eddie starts, before cutting himself off with another shakes of his head. “Never mind. What’s your snakes name?”

“Ada,” Scott replies softly, letting Eddie redirect the conversation. “After Ada Lovelace - the mathematician. A bit nerdy, I know.”

“Nah, I think that’s cool.” Eddie says. “If Wayne ever lets me get a cat I am absolutely naming it after a Lord of the Rings character.”

“Good choice,” Scott laughs. “You’re welcome to come see Ada, if you like.”

“Really?” Eddie asks excitedly, blurting out the words. It wasn’t everyday you got the offer to go see a snake, especially in a town like Hawkins. Eddie always thought snakes and ferrets and lizards and other such exotic pets were more for big city people. Not small town Hawkins. And yet. He felt a bit like a kid again. “Can I?”

“Of course,” Scott replied happily, smiling all the while. “I’d love to show you her. Come over on Wednesday with Wayne.”

Wednesday. Date Night. The one day a week Wayne was guaranteed to trek over to the suburbs to have dinner with Scott. It was slowly becoming a tradition.

Eddie was torn.

On one hand, he really didn’t want to interrupt Wayne’s date night. The man deserves his privacy, his space to love and be loved back. Especially now that the pair were finally on the same page that they were in fact going on dates.

But on the other hand Eddie really wanted to go see the pet snake. It could be nice, to bond with Scott. To spend some time with him and Wayne.

But what if Wayne didn’t want him there? Wanted time alone with just him and Scott. But Scott did invite him personally, so maybe it would be okay? Eddie wasn’t quite sure what his thoughts were doing.

“I’ll ask him,” Eddie eventually says, deciding it’s absolutely not a cop out answer — before excusing himself to go and pay for his cat food.

---

“WAYNE,” Eddie exclaims as he bursts into the trailer. The door slams open, banging against the wall with the force of it. Eddie kicks it shut with another loud bang before continuing, looking over at the armchair his uncle is resting in. “Why didn’t you tell me your boyfriend has a pet snake?”

His Uncle merely raises an eyebrow at him, peering over the top of the newspaper he’d been reading. Wayne is in his comfy home clothes - his worn jeans with the rips at the bottom that he claims are more comfortable than any other pair, the pair of blue fuzzy socks Eddie got him for his last birthday, one of his usual flannels. It’s all very Wayne.

“Well, hello to you too, boy.” Wayne replies, voice steady. He folds up the newspaper — careful to keep his place — and puts it down on the side table next to a steaming mug of coffee. He was using one of his older mugs this time — a chipped white thing that read WORLD’S BEST GRANDMA, another gift Eddie got him years ago.

“Wayne,” Eddie continued, toeing out of his sneakers, still looking over at his uncle on the armchair. “This is very important information I feel I definitely should have been told about.”

He leaves his shoes where they landed after he kicked them off his feet, and shrugs out of his jacket. Wayne continues to watch him, taking a sip of his coffee, and Eddie could see how carefully he was steeling his face as to not smile. “And don’t you dare tell me you didn’t notice the fucking snake tank in the living room, you’ve been over to Scott’s place how many times now?”

“It just didn’t come up,” Wayne eventually said, smiling in that subtle way he did where if you didn’t know him — you could barely tell he was smiling at all. But Eddie knew him, and he could see the sparkle in his eyes, the curl of his lip. Wayne thought this was fucking hilarious. Eddie bit back his own smile as he whirled around.

“Betrayal! From my own Uncle!” Eddie replied, waving his arms around as he talked, playing up the dramatics. It was a bit of normalcy that was easy and familiar to slip into. It was nice. Eddie, being dramatic and making a spectacle of himself — and Wayne, stony faced and entirely too used to it. “I cannot believe you found out your boyfriend has a metal as hell pet, and didn’t tell me.”

“Couldn’t let you start thinkin’ he was cooler than me, now could I,” Wayne joked, watching in amusement as Eddie flopped himself down on the couch.

“He is pretty cool.” Eddie replied, looking over at his Uncle. He sobered slightly, voice quieter and more serious. “He invited me over on Wednesday. To come see.”

“And…” Wayne prompted. The man could always tell when Eddie wasn’t saying something, and he was even better at knowing when to push and when to let it lie. It had taken some time, and a few missteps but they had gotten there. “How you feelin’ ‘bout that?”

“Well I really wanna see a snake,” Eddie starts, voice slow and hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. The threads were starting to come undone, and he picked at it as he talked. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Wayne adds quietly, his voice a comfort. He puts his coffee down, and watches Eddie. “Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

“But it’s Wednesday.” Eddie adds, with all the emphasis on the word. He throws his hands up in the air as he sinks further into the couch, melting into the cushions. “It’s date night.”

It’s quiet for a bit. The words sitting heavy in the air between them. Wayne takes his time before speaking.

“Me and Scott are dating yes,” Wayne starts, leaning forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees — holding back the same grunt that Eddie did trying to pull himself up off the floor. He almost smiles at the thought. “And we have dinner on Wednesday’s, yes.” His voice softens, and Eddie can tell that if they were sitting on the same couch right now, Wayne would be giving him a hearty clap on the shoulder. His palm rough and warm. “But that doesn’t mean you’re always excluded, Eddie.”

Eddie shrugs bashfully, and squirms himself into a sitting position. Wayne seeing straight through to the heart of the issue — he was good at that.

“Scott invited you, so that means he wants you there.” Wayne said, looking intently at Eddie, words soft and carefully spoken. Every word chosen with care. “And I always like spending time with you Eddie. You’re my boy.”

Eddie continues to squirm under Wayne’s knowing gaze, picking at the loose threads on his shirt and running his socked feet along the carpet. It all felt a bit silly, all these muddy and tangled emotions sitting thick in his chest. His voice is quiet as he speaks, and he can feel the vulnerability sitting on his tongue. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Wayne replies, picking himself up off the chair with another grunt and sitting down on the couch beside Eddie. He drapes his arm across the back of it, open should Eddie choose to take the unspoken offer. “You’re coming with me on Wednesday, and you’re seeing that damn snake.”

Eddie laughs, and lets himself fall into Wayne’s side, curling himself up like he was a kid again.

#Eddie Munson #Wayne Munson #Scott Clarke #Stranger Things #Stranger Things Fic #Clarkson #My Writing #not sure how i feel ab this one tbh #writing it was like pulling teeth #but i needed a distraction #so #*jazz hands* here u go

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someonewhos-world · 4 months

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The trudge to finding the stupid cab was quiet. Mostly. Jace somewhat blocked out most of Noelle's unhappy grumbling about her hair and clothes being wet. Oh and her shoes,Jace realizes.

The deeper red haired girl counts to 8 before looking at Noelle for a moment, assessing the damage done. The aforementioned disgruntled teen's long hair was sagging, sticking to her face and beginning to frizz a little while air drying. Some of her tips dripping with water. A little tangled in her hoop earrings. (Salt or Fresh? Jace doesn't exactly know,but she assumes fresh, the eels looked like European Eels.)

Her clothes were soaked, Jace knows fully that her clothes were heavy and dragging her down. She knew her shoes and socks were wet too, from the squelch of water in her sneakers and the occasional grimace on the girl's face. There's goosebumps on her arms and various eel bite marks that were bleeding steadily.

Jace turned away, processing the new information before stopping. Noelle stopped a few steps a head, raising an eyebrow at the kneeling girl who dug through her backpack.

"What are you doing?" Noelle narrowed her eyes, turning towards Jace as she paused and looked at Noelle with a smile. The former took in the latter's appearance, leaves and a stick or two tangled in her wind messed hair,no more were the cat clips in her hair. (Though Noelle was sure Jace was the one with the outlined cat hair pins and Jess had the solid. She never really took a mental note.) What was usually pinned back,was in the latter's face and obscuring her line of sight. Theres small tears in Jace's sleeve gloves, exposing old scarring that's darker against her tan skin. Her skirt is torn in some places, petticoat dirty.

"Getting you a new shirt," Jace smiled, eyes creasing a little. Noelle crossed her arms,eyebrow raised. Jace stands, handing Noelle a neatly folded black,one size too big shirt. She looks at Jace with a unreadable expression before unfolding it. A beat of silence passes before Noelle lowers the shirt, staring at Jace with a pinched expression like the former handed her a lemon. (Jace wont admit to the startled snorted giggle she let out.)

"This is a Green Day shirt." Noelle deadpanned, waving the offending piece of clothing. Indeed, on the front, was the cover of a Green Day album. Jace smiled,amusement pleasantly welcomed in her veins and her expression. "Yes," She giggled, covering her mouth was her bracelets clinked at the same time as Noelle's clinked together on her own wrists. "I dont have anything else that would fit you." She defended, raising her hands in mock defense as Noelle's gaze sharpened for a moment before somewhat deflating. Weighing her options, the aforementioned teen decided that wearing a shitty, bleach splattered band shirt, was more better and leaves her with less of a chance of getting sick.

Noelle mumbled something unintelligible before stalking off to a Bush. Jace turned away, examining her gloves before removing them. She turned back towards Noelle, snorting in amusement at how the green day shirt clashed a little with her usual aesthetic. Noelle frowned but nodded a little.

"Thank you, I appreciate it."

"Mhm. No one deserves to be in three different layers and weighed down."

The track continued,but not the silence was more comfortable. Though, Noelle amused the question of why Jace helped, only to be partially stunned when the girl admitted that Jody was a force to be reckoned with. Not that Jace ever knew. But something about short girls being fairly scary in their own,unique ways.

/_/_/_/_

wowo!!!! I wrote em!!! I should write my gym final!!! With the same enthusiasm!!!

Genderswapped AU + Noelle belong to @same-name-supremacy

Jace belongs to me :3

#total drama oc #genderswap td #creative writing #on the spot ig

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girlsofthemcu · 16 days

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@down-home-charm sent: [ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 ] My muse brushes a strand of hair out of your muse’s face. (for Belle, with gloves on!)

She's beyond tired. Practically asleep on her feet. She's bruised. She's dirty. Her uniform is torn. And there is mud and bits of dried blood caking the ends of her hair. She's in pain too. But she's choosing to ignore that. To push through until she gets to her room.

That is until she runs into Rogue in the hall. She's not surprised. She knew the moment it was announced they were back, the various adults would be seeking them out. Checking in.

She opens her mouth to say she's fine. That it looks worse than it is. But when she reaches out and moves a strand from Belle's face, the teen just deflates. Gives herself over to the exhaustion and pain.

"Hey, Mama..."

#downhomecharm #ch: belle

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blossomhcir · 1 year

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HOUSE OF THE DRAGON STARTERS ; ACCEPTING @bruiisedpetals asked ❛ try not to look too relieved. ❜ ( For Vik! )

Tourneys were grand affairs in the Reach. Adelaide herself had been to many and they never failed to be exciting. Injuries were common though. Bloodied faces, broken bones, all common tributes for glory and honor. A stray splinter from a lance or an unlucky angle from a fall could take a man easily. The possibility hung over the festivities, the specter of the Stranger looming even in the happiest times.

The possibility had never been so present at the festivities as when the lance of Ser Vik’s opponent tangled with his horse’s legs, sending the poor animal and its rider to the ground. Squires had cleared the field and Ser Vik spirited away, no doubt to check him for injuries, but the lack of a swift return to the field made Adelaide’s gut twist with worry.

When the melee began she had slipped off to the various tents around the tourney grounds. The ground was muddied, numerous horses and feet having torn up the grass and softened the earth. Even lifting her skirt to avoid the worst of it didn’t completely save her dress, but that was the last thing on her mind. That had been occupied by searching for the Redwyne banner amidst a staggering amount of colors and sigils. It was a surprise and a relief to find the knight altogether well and whole in the Redwyne tent, not at all the visions of injury or death she had convinced herself of as she rushed to find him.

“I… Apologizes, Ser, I hope I didn’t insult you. I should not have assumed the worst.” The anxiety that had overwhelmed her was quickly fading, leaving her deflated. With a cleared mind it dawned on her that she had entered uninvited and unannounced and was now standing there in a dirty dress. The apples of her cheeks were warming, a telltale sign that the creeping embarrassment at her own over reaction and lack of tact was plainly visible. Adelaide contemplated turning tail to leave, but she lingered for a moment longer.

“Your opponent was unsportsmanlike, he clearly aimed for your horse's legs. He performed without honor.” An uncharismatic indignation creeped into her tone in the memory of the display, but it passed quickly when she focused on Vik again. “Are you sure you are well? It seemed a hard fall and I can’t help but worry.”

#bruiisedpetals #*❀ ic; answered #*❀ interactions; vik redwyne #( i hope this is okay! )#*❀ miscellaneous; queue

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boombambaby · 5 months

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Drabble; Made It

By the time he makes it back to Pacha’s village on his own, Kuzco is exhausted. His robe’s train trails limply behind him as he walks, covered in dirt and with its customary curl as deflated and flattened as he currently feels. Wompy hangs from one hand, as dirty as his owner who ambles along the village trail like a zombie. Night has fallen over the land, with only the faint glow of candles in the window of a few huts to guide him as he meanders through the quiet village. It must be later than he thought– not that he had a sundial on him to keep track of exactly how long he’s been out– but the temperature is dropping and he can feel the goosebumps on his arms from the breeze as it drifts past him.

“It’s just you and me now, Wompy.” He murmurs to his favorite stuffed animal, lifting it up to hug against his chest as his gaze drifts through the village. Pacha’s hut looms over the village in the distance, still in its cozy little spot atop the hill, but when his eyes land on the steep staircase that leads up to it, Kuzco groans in frustration and almost sinks to his knees in defeat.

He’d had to run from a pack of jaguars earlier, after one he hadn’t seen sleeping under some brush whipped its tail out in front of him and he stepped right on it. The big cat yelped and launched itself to its feet, with several others waking up at the commotion and vivid images of the first time he’d been alone in the jungle– albeit in the form of dinner for the jungle beasts– flashed before his eyes. Kuzco clung to Wompy as he ran, screaming a litany of ‘No, no, no, no, no! Not again!’ as he tore through brush and ducked underneath branches. He found a hiding spot behind a fallen log, and wasted an hour there as he caught his breath and waited for the cats to leave the area.

To say that he hates the jungle is an understatement; he loathes it. The idea that he’s going to have to walk through this jungle path to get back to the main city for school fills him with a dread he’s trying very hard to avoid thinking about.

What little enthusiasm Kuzco regains when he finally makes it to Pacha’s hut at the top of the hill is stripped away when he realizes that the candle in his window has been snuffed out, and the hut is quiet save for the llama’s braying in their pens behind it. Idly, he considers sleeping around the back of the hut where he knows a large pile of hay sits under the covered porch for the llama’s to feed on– but he dismisses the idea when a shiver wracks his frame.

He’s made it this far to inconvenience his friend, he might as well get a start on it tonight.

Kuzco ambles up to the front door of the hut, and the hand not clutching Wompy raps against the door several times. Nothing happens at first, and the echo of his knock sounds explosive in the quiet of the night. When Pacha still doesn’t come in the next few minutes, he raises a fist to knock again but before he can get more than a few out the door swings open and a very disgruntled, half awake Pacha stands before him.

He must make a sight with his torn, dirty robes and clinging to a stuffed animal, and any other time Kuzco might find his rapid succession of expressions amusing but he doesn’t have it in him tonight. All it takes is one look at his friend, and the day’s events and exhaustion catch up to him, and Kuzco bursts into tears and practically falls forward against a startled Pacha’s chest. Pacha startles and just barely has the presence of mind to catch the teenager before he can fall. “Kuzco, what– “

He can’t even speak through his loud sobs to reply, and with a sigh Pacha tugs him inside of the hut and closes the door behind them before he wakes the entire village up.

#kuzco #Pacha #Wompy #roleplayer #disney rp #the emperors new groove #drabble #fanfiction

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izjeon · 2 years

Text

THE GREAT KACCHAN !

villain!bakugo x queen!reader ft. king!all-might

genre: smut, oneshot, medieval au

word count: 1.1k

warnings: MINORS GET OUT!! not proofread, dub-con, real mean bakugo, older reader, dom bakugo sub reader, mentioned blackmailing, degrading, infidelity (cheating on all might???), accidental impregnation, unprotected sex, unrealistic sex, creampie, copious amounts of cum, orgasm pussy make bakugo go brrrrr, overstimulation, and much more to cum…

+a/n: no, can we talk about it? this ‘baby fever’ that i have had in all my published and deleted fics? it needs to go. but hi, it’s me :3 i really hope u enjoy this fic because it took me so many redrafts to finally make it make me go “oh.” like that “oh.” so many people liked my kiri manga buddies fic that i was really nervous and anxious about whether i could write something as good as it again. but whether it makes you hot down there or not, it’s all good because i finally like it myself. 😩

++ “m-mine.”

⠀ 𖥻 SYNOPS𝗶S࣪

you were supposed to be a queen, sitting by the side of all might, the world’s greatest hero. he was such a good man with a kind smile and a reassuring voice that lifts the mood in any room.

but he had a sickly heart.

his famous build of muscle deflated as soon as you reached the confinement of your shared bedroom. you would stare with sympathetic eyes as he coughed up crimson blood, staining your white sheets.

you used to be sure nobody knew apart from the both of you. with no heir to the throne, your power and lives would be in grave danger if somebody found out. it was a secret for you both to take to his arriving grave.

but when the great kacchan arrived at your doorstep threatening to expose your husband’s illness, you did what you had to do as the queen.

because you would do anything to keep the secret.

𖥻 THE GREAT K𝗔CCH𝗔N

“fucking slut,” he groaned into your ear, arm reaching under your torn dress to slap your twitching clit. his slap was wet, so obscenely wet that you let out a shamed sob and pulled away from his warm body. his fat cock slowed to a stop and you whimpered, hanging your head low in embarrassment. his fingers slipped past your clit and felt around where his cock sat inside of you.

his chest rumbled with an evil chuckle as he brought his hand up to your view. you keened at your embarrassment coating his fingers. his hand was covered in your juices.

“p-please… i c-can’t…” you whimpered, feeling a dull ache where his cock sat still inside of your creaming cunt. bakugou tutted, reaching his hand around your torso and snaking it up to grope your breasts. “can’t what, my queen?”

bakugo pulled back and slammed his hips against yours, pressing his cockhead against your cervix. your body jerked with a cry. “you can’t tell your husband, your king, about how you’ve been a dirty little whore for his worst enemy?” he pumped into you slowly, but every thrust felt like the devil’s temptation— hot. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you quivered in his arms. you didn’t want to admit it but you loved being his whore, even if it meant betraying your husband.

“you can’t tell him how you’ve been fucking me, princess?” his thick, calloused fingers gripped your chin and forced you to look back at him. through your teary eyes, you still admired his raw beauty. his blonde hair spiked messily while his eyes were the prettiest shade of red. such a weirdly cute face, but psychotic mind.

“answer me, ___.”

“e-eat my fucking ass.”

𖥻 THE GREAT KaTSUK𝗶

fap, fap, fap~!

your scalp burned with the pull of bakugou’s grip on your hair, but you weren’t worried about it. all you could feel was the slap of his balls against your clit as his cock slammed into your creaming pussy over and over again. “o-oh my god—!” he slapped you, slamming into you and pausing to feel your walls pulsate around him. his fingers grasped your chin and forced you to look at him. “what’s my name?”

you couldn’t focus when the tip of his fat cock was kissing your cervix, wetting it with his precum. your ass was naked and flush against his trimmed happy trail for anyone around to see. “k-kacchan~” your pussy squeezed against his cock, milking him. you moaned and jutted your hips back, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth. “m-my king… please fuck me!”

you just wanted more.

“anything for the queen,” bakugou purred and planted a sloppy kiss onto your lips. his tongue swirled around your own as he pummelled into your sopping cunt, wrecking your body for anybody else. with his hand working your clit and his thick cock rutting into you, you didn’t know if you were still breathing. your ears were stuffed with the sound of his firm balls slapping against your juices, the wet squelches of his cock fucking into your pussy and the whimpers you moaned into his mouth.

heat bubbled up in your stomach and your eyes rolled to the back of your head— you were seeing stars.

“you gonna cum for me, princess? hm?”

you nodded, fingers bunching up the material on your dress. your breath became shallow and your chest heaved, leaving your nipples to harden in the cold air. you huffed ‘n’ puffed as your eyes closed. you focused on the sound of his hips slapping against your ass and the way his precum filled you up so much that it dribbled all the way down to your clit. you felt the pressure build inside your cunt, and you called out his name.

“katsuki!”

hearing his real name flow so effortlessly out of your mouth and into the fresh air triggered something inside of bakugo. his eye twitched and his hand dropped from your chin, gripping onto your ass instead. he shivered and almost collapsed onto you, using one hand to keep him steady against the tree. he shuddered, unable to stop the sudden churn in his full balls, and finally, he came.

“n-no…” you keened, eyes wide with fear plastered all over your face. it was like a rocket, the way his cum splashed around inside of you. his hot seed sloshed inside of you, ready to impregnate, and painted your battered cervix a creamy white. he kept pumping into you, emptying all his trembling balls had for you, and sent you into another orgasm. your body lit on fire as you squirted around his cock, twitching in his grip. the feeling of you cumming so hard on his cock as he fucked his cum up into you removed all sense from his mind and he flew into madness.

you cried out, feeling your cold nipples scrape across the bark of the tree. “k-katsuki, s-slow—!” bakugo licked across the side of your face, fucking into you with even more energy. “m-mine.” he gripped your waist and slammed the entirety of his cock into you, slipping past your cervix and cumming for the second time.

fuck, you were definitely pregnant.

#tgk; second part coming soon

do not steal, modify, or publish my work.

#bakugo smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugo ff #katsuki ff #bakugou x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugo imagines #katsuki imagines #katsuki smut #katsuki <3 #🌟: angel’s fics

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carf-writes · 2 years

Text

Thought I would do my own take on a Anne/Sasha reunion...

Anne heard a crash, another mixing bowl shattering on the floor, and her mom’s gasp of surprise and fright. Her heart rocketed in her chest and she was off the couch in a second, grabbing her tennis racket from where it leaned by the front door.

“Mom!” The shout started but faded in her throat as she heard another sound. A familiar deep voice rumbling through an awkward apology.

As she passed through the kitchen she could see the edge of his wide frame, the dirty torn cloak and red armor. Grime.

And where he was-

Sasha Waybright was standing in Anne’s laundry room by the back door. Nothing like the hundreds of times she’d been there before. Her hair was longer and unkempt, her face scarred and hollowed out, frozen in place by the sight of Anne, wearing ridiculous medieval armor and dirty metal boots.

“Anne,” Sasha said in a hush, completely ignoring Grime and Mrs. Boonchuy. “I-”

Anne looked her up and down, struggling to overcome the stiffness in her muscles, the lump in her throat.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to wear shoes in my house?” The words had possessed her, she didn’t know where they came from, bubbling out of her in a heated rush.

“Wha- oh!” Sasha dropped her eyes to her feet where she’d been tracking mud across the tile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t- I’m sorry.”

She started taking the boots off and Anne couldn’t take it anymore. Everything was so dissonant, so many things familiar and unfamiliar piling up on top of each other. Anne’s emotions most of all.

“Oh my god! You- you- you!”

Sasha looked up just in time for Anne to punch her in the face. There was a crunch as knuckles collided with cartilage.

“Anne!” Her mom shrieked. Grime looked ready to draw his sword.

Sasha fell back against the wall, sinking to her knees, as blood gushed from her nose.

She looked at it pooling in her palm with a kind of amazement. “I guess I deserve that.”

Air gushed out of Anne like a deflating balloon. “Fuck, Sash.”

Tears started running down Anne’s face. She dove at Sasha, wrapping her up in her arms, sobs wracking her shoulders. Sasha stiffened, barely breathing.

Anne wrapped her fingers into the straps of Sasha’s armor, squeezing her tight, not minding that there was blood dripping onto the back of her t-shirt. Sasha made some inarticulate noise. Her wrist tapped against Anne’s spine as she tried to keep her bloody hand out of the way.

“I hate you, you idiot,” Anne choked into her neck.

“Who’s the idiot? Now there’s blood everywhere.”

Grime shifted and made a sound in the back of his throat. “So…”

“Are you a frog?” Mrs. Boonchuy asked.

“Excuse me?”

Anne ignored them, clinging closer. “I was so scared.

“Marcy’s alive,” Sasha said. “It’s alright.”

Something that had been wound tight in Anne released at the words even as she wanted to punch Sasha all over again.

There was shuffling at the doorway, Anne’s dad and the Plantars arriving on the scene.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Boonchuy asked.

“Oh, look it’s Anne’s terrible friend again,” Polly said in her usual chipper fashion.

Anne sobbed harder.

#amphibia #amphibia spoilers #frogshow #fanfiction #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #living up to my name

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kylorengarbagedump · 3 years

Text

Defy Your Authority: Chapter 3

Read on AO3. Part 2 here. Part 4 here.

Summary: You always hated tagging along on boys' night.

Words: 3300

Warnings: tw//kassanovella

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: HI LOOK AT ME I GOT THIS OUT IN TIME. I did indeed test positive for COVID so this was wrought through my fatigue--and may be why there is a delay for the next chapter. We'll see!

I hope y'all enjoyed this. I am doing my best to respond to all the feedback, but I'm like... so tired LMFAO. Thank you so much for your support and engagement. It literally means the world to me and is so encouraging.

I love you. ❤️

It didn’t matter how many times you told yourself to calm down. Your pulse bounded like a rabbit, every thump a reminder of your tightening chest. The walls of the Steadfast washed past in black-silver blurs, your mind wild with fear. Hux’s words replayed over and over, a cruel broadcast in your brain. Requests for response from the officers stationed there have gone unanswered.

Realistically, that could mean anything. Pessimistically, everyone was dead and you were homeless.

The thought of losing your crew weakened your knees. For four months, they’d been your solace and something akin to a family. Not like you’d had other real options on that little butthole of a planet--but you’d gotten lucky. You’d made a home out of Orinda; a home where you’d planned to return.

Lip pinched in thought, you joined Kylo in a new turbolift, crossing to the corner again as if he were a disease you wanted to avoid. You folded your arms over your chest, stared at your shoes. If you were homeless, it was anyone’s guess as to what you’d do or where you’d go next. It was clear that your supposed… whatever he was didn’t care for your presence.

Leather gloves scrunched in the silence. The lift arrived, and he stormed off, in expectation that you’d follow. You rolled your eyes, trailing behind him, allowing the need that had burgeoned between your thighs to deflate.

He’d said he would punish you. But you couldn’t think of a punishment worse than going four more months without his touch.

Kylo broke through another set of blast doors into the hangar, officers and Stormtroopers alike snapping to attention in his presence. If he noticed or cared, it didn’t show--he pushed through the quiet floor, furious stride carrying him toward one of the ugliest ships you’d ever seen.

Black durasteel panels formed a long, cylindrical frame, the bow outfitted with a row of rakish teeth and bordered by two guiding flaps. The engines looped like two smooth bricks at the stern of the vessel, the two ends connected by rows of external piping and guarded by a sprinkle of gunning stations. Its blocky build bore a resemblance to a prison transport--if that prison transport was then modified by an eager, unsophisticated halfwit.

He climbed the descended ramp in thundering strides, and you skulked in his wake, only to be greeted with one of the mercenaries you’d seen earlier. You paused, but Kylo passed the soldier, marching toward the stern and abandoning you in the main corridor. The man--at least, you were fairly certain he was a man--wore a mask embedded with breathing tubes, a huge, heavy club in his hands. The weight of his gaze anchored you to the floor. He said nothing.

“Uhm…” You tried to find an introduction, but none seemed appropriate. Grimacing, you offered him a half-hearted salute. “Sir.”

The man did not respond. Face burning, you scurried into the ship, hot on Kylo’s heels.

Few lights rimmed the interior of the vessel, your only guide the resonant thump of his boots along the durasteel slats. It was as dim as it was dank--the deeper you delved, the heavier the air. It was sticky with the stench of war, weighed with iron and brimmed with smoke. And underneath that, a scent you’d only describe as one owned by a pack of panting massiffs.

A chill crept over your scalp. This ship was empty of kindness, barren of mercy. You didn’t need the Force to know that nothing good had ever happened within these walls.

Your fear had you scampering to keep pace. Kylo led you through a flickering hall and turned a corner, swiped a switch. A set of blast doors opened to sharp steps, another pair of doors at the top. Those parted as you approached, light spilling from the Steadfast hangar through wide slats of red transparisteel. You’d arrived in the cockpit.

Six chairs lined the wrap-around dashboard. Two as pilot seats, two positioned at gunning and weapons systems, and two plugged toward the back, each in front of a monitoring station. One seemed to handle communications--or lack thereof, the radio receivers and wiring were all almost entirely torn out--and the other dedicated to internal surveillance. At the latter, a matrix of screens with live feed of the interior of the ship.

Even through the shadowed halls, you could distinguish a handful of prison cells. Each of them was torn apart, littered with metal scrap and half-shorn weaponry. The walls themselves were adorned with sloppy graffiti, one of them decorated by a mural of a massive, five-legged lizard beast. A huge red beam was bursting through its neck. Within the tiny walls were separate collections of cultured artifacts. You knew enough about war to know they were trophies.

Every room also possessed a rumpled, dirty bed. A flash of hall light near one cell, illuminating notches in the durasteel where the head of the bedframe met the wall. Like the frame had been slammed against it. Over and over and over.

You swallowed. On one of the feeds, a body slipped through the hall like a living shade. Pausing, you watched until it disappeared from view. The sound of footsteps whispered, then hummed, then roared. You spun, seeking out Kylo, finding him by the co-pilot’s chair, and darted into the pilot’s spot as if this was a totally normal occasion and you weren’t on a weird deathship surrounded by his weird death bodyguards.

Kylo turned to gaze at you, and the blast doors opened, stealing his attention. In the frame stood another would-be man, outfitted with a ribbed-weave robe and carting a huge plasma rifle. Filth smothered him from his boots halfway up his legs, and his head was obscured by a helmet, not unlike the one you’d known Kylo to wear. This one had two blinders on either side, like this man was a predator.

Like he was a hunter.

Whatever fear you felt for him, he certainly did not feel it for you. He glanced between you and Kylo, trying to ascertain the relationship that resulted in your presence.

“She’s in my seat.” His voice was grainy, like glass on stone, distorted underneath his mask.

You held up your hands in deference. “Hey, sorry. I had no idea this was your seat.” You went to stand, frowning at Kylo, who was studying your every movement. Really had to love how helpful he was being.

“Hurry up,” the man said.

Nodding, you wriggled around the chair with your hands still raised, as if this would offer any form of protection between you and this fully armed guard. He squared his feet and stalked toward the pilot’s seat. You side-stepped him, but he shoulder-checked you despite it, and you stumbled back, wincing.

“What the f--”

Kylo Ren’s saber screamed to life, slicing a divide between the hunter and the chair. He stalled, fists balled, neck rolling to stare at Kylo. You gulped, rubbing your arm, your eyes flipping between him and the crackling rod of plasma only a foot away from the man’s waist.

“Sir.”

“Careful,” Kylo said.

He snorted. “Of a Lieutenant--”

“Kuruk.”

Kuruk pivoted to you, and you met his stare somewhere behind the shield of metal. Whoever was underneath the helmet was rending you apart in his mind.

He shrugged his shoulder and looked back to Kylo.

“Excuse me. Sir.”

The saber disappeared, and Kuruk took his seat at the dashboard. You flushed. At least he’d done that much. You snuck to the back of the cockpit, thinking to sit at the surveillance station, but pausing there too. Every one of these seats could have an owner whose name you didn’t know. Glimpsing Kylo, you threw up your hands in confusion.

Kylo caught this, but did not acknowledge it. “Resistance activity was spotted on the scanners. Get Cardo and Trudgen on the turrets. Ushar gunning.”

“Yes, Master.”

Your eyes widened. Master?

Kuruk fussed with the dashboard, relaying the information, and you gazed at Kylo, examining his body in the same routine you’d practiced nightly with your hands between your legs. Fuck, he was big--the thick expanse of chest rose with a slow breath, and you watched it fall, then watched his neck tense as he turned, attuned to your observation. Heat rushed your spine when you linked eyes. His jaw stiffened.

“Get in your seat, Lieutenant.”

“Oh,” you replied. “Is this my seat? I didn’t know.” You sank into it, shooting him a wide, sparkling smile. “Thank you, Master.”

Kylo swallowed.

The blast doors opened again, the soldier you’d seen at the entrance bursting through and tromping to a gunner console--you assumed this was Ushar. He tossed his club to the side, flicking on the controls and calibrating the sights. The ship itself bellowed to life, rising from the floor, and you gripped the seat, unable to force your focus from Kylo--just as he was unable to force his from you.

The two of you were in competition. That much was clear.

You just couldn’t figure out what the loser would be impaled with--or if that would make them a winner, instead.

The Buzzard shot into the stars, coasting in a direct path toward Orinda. You broke the staring contest, glimpsing the little planet through the cockpit, pulse picking up again. Requests for response unanswered. Once you got on the ground, you’d go find your crew and make sure they were safe. That’s all you needed to know. Whether or not Kylo wanted you to come back was irrelevant.

You met his gaze again, his irises hiding a storm. Blood bit your cheeks.

Mostly.

“Nothing detected on the sensors,” said Ushar.

Kylo glanced at him then turned toward the transparisteel, searing you with a leer before he sat at the dash. You shivered. Whatever you’d done to make him feel this way, his brief glimmers of favor only made it worse. Maybe you did want to fuck him so you could get a chance to figure it out. Or maybe it was just frustrating to know him in ways no one else had while simultaneously knowing almost nothing at all.

The three men operated in silence as you approached Orinda. From space, it seemed normal. With no starcraft popping up, there was a chance it was a false alarm. That it had been a fly-by. You held your breath when you broke the atmosphere, flames whipping the transparisteel. The Buzzard trembled with gravity, diving toward the ground, greens and browns and blues splitting to trees and fields and sea.

Then a flash of light, smog blooming to life, tiny fires swallowing your narrowing field of vision. Air froze in your lungs, nails biting the hard back of the seat.

“Fuck.” You launched from the chair, scrambled toward the dashboard. “No, no no…”

Kylo spun to face you, but you ignored him, shoving between the two pilot seats to crane over the console and peer through the transparisteel.

He stood, looming over you. “Back to your seat.”

His words swum in the tsunami of your mind. The outpost was smothered with smoke. The closer you drew, the dimmer the horizon, until the Buzzard landed on the border of the eruption, the entire sky encompassed with billowing black fog. Every muscle in your chest felt like wire around your ribs, forcing the breath from your lungs. You shook your head, hands starting to tremble.

They were out there. They could be dead.

The blast doors opened, and you whirled to leave, but Kylo caught your shoulder and stilled you.

“What the--”

“Gather the rest,” Kylo said. He was speaking to Ushar. “Spread out and secure the perimeter.”

Ushar nodded, grabbed his club, and disappeared down the steps. Huffing, you wrenched yourself free from Kylo’s grip and stomped toward the exit only to be paralyzed by a very familiar nothing. You growled, unable to even make a fist.

“Dude!”

“You will remain on board the Buzzard until I return.”

The fact you couldn’t turn to look him in the eye made you even angrier. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you said. “That’s my crew. They’re my responsibility.”

“Stand down.”

You snorted. “Hell no.”

Two long, slow steps brought him behind you. His presence consumed you like a black hole, crushing you in darkness.

His chest met your back. “Every one of your little quips has gone unchallenged.” Another step, and his mouth fell to your ear. “Do not test me here.”

Warmth flooded your thighs. If he didn’t like being challenged in front of his soldiers, he shouldn’t have put you all in the same space. His own fault.

“I don’t care,” you said. “These are my crew members. You don’t know them. I do. Let me go.”

“No.”

“Why are you even doing this?” you said. “You’re the one who fucking brought me here!”

A pause. Silence settled between you, the only sounds the distant noise of destruction and your anxious, heaving breath. You heard him exhale.

“Kuruk,” he said. “Scout and support.”

Behind you, Kuruk stood, followed by the metal click of him grappling his rifle. You watched, stuck to your spot, as he charged through the cockpit and down the steps. The blast doors to the stairs shut behind him. Then the ones to the cockpit. And you two were alone.

Kylo snarled, snatched your throat--he was a swoop of rage, swiveling and slamming your back to the wall. You seethed, squirming under his grip, unable to hide the smirk curling on your lips as you tried to pry his wrist away. He subsumed you like a star subsumed space, bright hot and pure, and you were a simple nothingness, addicted to his heat.

“You think you have earned my submission,” he muttered. “You have not.”

You wheezed, gazing into his eyes, finding an electric spark of hunger and fury within them. Four months without this had been far, far too long. As long as he was treating you like a stranger, you didn’t want to give in. But that wouldn’t stop you from making this torture for him, too.

“Then what have I earned,” you purred, “Master?”

He sucked in air through his teeth, pinning your body flat--his chest rolled with excitement, his voice raked over lust. “The further you push me, the worse your earnings.”

You bit your lip, bucking your hips against his, feeling a growing bulge between his legs. “You’re ridiculous.” You’d thought he’d wanted you to go to Orinda. Maybe you’d been wrong. “What, is this because I left?”

A huff. “No.”

“Then I don’t get it.” You rolled your pelvis into him again, and he jerked forward, crushing you to the wall. “Why don’t you want me around? What did I do?”

Kylo shifted, panting into your neck, his mouth centimeters from your skin. “Not what you did,” he said, clutching your throat tighter. “What you saw. It will not happen again.”

Some bit of that stung. You saw inside of his mind. “You act like I made you admit it!” It was difficult to speak under the pressure of his palm. “You could’ve just let me go.”

“Hm.” His hand squeezed, and he dragged his hardening bulge along your thigh. “Perhaps I should have.”

So that’s what this was about. Whatever had happened, he’d decided that what he’d shared with you was weakness. And being Supreme Leader meant he couldn’t be weak. Meant he couldn’t have room or time for you. All you were was a living regret.

Frowning, you glared at him, driving your thumbs into the meat of his wrist and throwing his hand from your neck.

“Yeah,” you said, shoving him back. “Perhaps you should’ve.” His eye twitched. A screeching blast broke the air, and you tensed. “I’m going to find my crew.”

You stalked out of the cockpit, blast doors parting for you as you hit the stairs and cut through the halls back to exit the Buzzard. It was one thing to abandon you. One thing to make you leave. One thing to act like he’d never held you, kissed you, or whispered your name.

But it was an entirely other thing to imply he wished it never would’ve happened. The thought pierced your heart, and you steeled your jaw, tried to pull the pain free. You didn’t have time to play Kylo Ren’s newest Game of Repressed Emotion. You had friends to find.

The ramp to the Buzzard was already down, and you hurried to the ground, smacked with the scent of blazing fuel. Embered ash battered your eyes, and you coughed, covering your face with your arm. Under the wailing wind of heat, you heard Kylo approaching the exit, so you trudged toward the outpost, seeking out any hint of life.

“Tonis!” Your voice was eaten by the flames. “Mirna! Lin!” Narrowing your gaze to protect it, you pushed toward the hangar, knowing that if they were anywhere, they’d be there.

Sweat crawled down your nape, scattering over your lower back as you drew nearer to the fire. The mercenaries were nowhere to be found, but you supposed that was okay, since they didn’t seem very fond of you regardless. The hangar was beyond the completely engulfed fueling station and therefore impossible to see, but as you curved around the fire, you could discern slivers of it. Edges of the building, and then whole sections.

And your stomach dropped.

Another couple of steps, only to discover the hangar scorched, collapsed in on itself like a shattered greenhouse. You stopped a scream and bolted, careening toward the wreckage to see if you could find anyone or anything among the debris. Thick durasteel girders stuck out of the heap like nails, the ridged ceiling crumpled in pieces and mirroring the fire’s light.

“Tonis!” Your back burned from the heat, but you didn’t care. You tried to find a way in, a way to pull something apart, a way to find someone. “Mirna!” You grabbed a huge wooden beam, hands slipping on the soot, but you fruitlessly tugged anyway. “Lin!”

A ragged shard of wood ripped your palm, and you shrieked, cradling it to your breast in shock. Cursing, you left the mass alone, following the foundation around the corner, hoping against hope they escaped out of the back and were huddled behind the hangar. You approached the corner, calling their names, louder and louder. They weren’t coming to meet you. Again, and louder, and you turned the corner, pleading with the Force that they’d be there.

Of course, they weren’t.

In front of you was a cluster of discarded starship parts, all outdated or malfunctioned or busted. It was a collection you’d gathered since you’d arrived--arranged and created when more parts were added. Each fragment was unique, and when building it with your crew, it sometimes resembled a sculpture. Under the clouds of smoke, it looked like a pile of junk.

Growling, you rushed it, kicking the base and sending it all tumbling to the ground. Your furious hands found purchase and hurled whatever they had grabbed to pieces. A scream shook your chest, and you jammed your foot against a solar array panel, cracking it in half. Underneath, you found an old, pretty fuelcell splinter. You grabbed it in your bloody hand and hissed, pulverizing it with your fist. Grunting, you threw the dust into the air, watching as the firewind ate it all.

You heard the rustle of grass behind you. Your shoulders sagged.

“There are no signatures of life remaining at this station.”

Sighing, you turned to Kylo. He was watching you, face blank.

“Yeah.” You wiped your palm on your pant leg, smearing it with blood. “I know.”

His eyes flicked to your hand for the shortest, sharpest moment. Then he met your eyes. “The silencer is still in need of repair.”

You frowned, averting your gaze. “I don’t want your pity.”

“You’d prefer to sleep outside in melted trash.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged a shoulder, crossed your arms. “Dumpster fire and all that.”

Kylo Ren held you in his stare, cape fluttering and hair rumpled in the breeze. Tears stung your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to run into his arms.

“Come.”

He turned the corner. Clearing your throat of sadness, you followed him. You allowed him to guide you through the devastation, past the flames, and up the ramp until you were safe in the Buzzard cockpit. And then he left, likely to gather his men before departure.

And then you were alone.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren #defy your authority #fya2 #fanfiction problems #COVID CUTIE BRINGING THE CONTENT........

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scatter-the-stars · 3 years

Text

Prompt: Terror

Prompter: @okaybutihitanightfury

note: Once again, I apologize since this part doesn't stick to the prompt that much.

Part 2

Part 1

The moment on the couch from the night before replays in Kurt’s head as he sits on the edge of the bed.

He woke up an hour earlier and briefly thought that the night before was some wonderful dream. Like the many others he had in the past year. But the delicious ache in his ass said otherwise.

Blaine fucked him.

His boyfriend’s seriously hot dad fucked him in a way he had never been fucked before.

To say he liked his boyfriend’s dad is putting it mildly. From the moment he first saw Blaine, he was smitten. Wanted the older guy. Wanted him more than he wanted his son.

Last night was inevitable. Blaine and him had been racing to that moment from the very first time they met. And he’s glad it finally happened. Glad they reached the place where they were always meant to be.

Kurt stands and goes to the bathroom. He brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face. Forgoes a shower for the time being so he can have Blaine’s scent on him a bit longer.

With Dex still sleeping, he dresses and walks out of the room. His heart jumps at the sight of Blaine in the small kitchen scrambling eggs. The mere sight of him has the night before replaying in his head. Has him wanting to repeat it again as soon as they can.

“Good morning.”

Blaine looks up. One corner of his mouth lifts in a lazy smile. “Good morning, Kurt.”

Kurt takes a seat at the breakfast bar and watches Blaine cook. Isn’t sure how to bring up the night before without sounding needy or desperate. Because he wants more. Wants to ask Blaine for more.

“So, um…”

“Yeah?”

“About last night.”

Blaine stops and gives all his attention to Kurt. “Last night was…” He blows out a breath. “It was phenomenal.”

“Yeah?” The hope Kurt has that Blaine wants more grows.

“Yes. But…”

That one word kills that hope. He deflates like a punctured balloon. “But, what?”

“It was a mistake that can’t happen again. Let’s just forget about it,” Blaine suggests.

“Yeah. Of course.” Kurt does his best to hide his disappointment. Doesn’t want Blaine to know he wanted more. “It’s for the best.”

He barely tastes the eggs Blaine serves him. Forces himself to eat every bite so Blaine can’t question if something is wrong. Says he’ll clean since Blaine cooked.

“Thanks, Kurt.” Blaine walks back to his room.

As he starts cleaning the dishes, Kurt hears the shower in Blaine’s room start to run. By the time he’s finished with the dishes, he’s somehow talked himself into going to Blaine’s room to confront him. It’s ridiculous, but he has to do this. Has to at least try before completely giving up.

Stood at Blaine’s closed bathroom door, he takes a deep breath before opening the door. He chokes on a breath at the sight of Blaine’s naked body under the spray of water. His cock swells as arousal pools in his belly.

He wants this man. Wants him more than his next breath. And he’s going to make sure Blaine knows that.

Before his confidence leaves, Kurt undresses, opens the shower door, and presses to Blaine’s back.

Blaine turns to him. Surprise on his face. “Kurt. What are yo-“

“I don’t want to forget about it,” he says. “I want it to happen again.”

“But Dex?”

Kurt loosely winds his arms around Blaine’s neck. “Dex barely notices me anymore. I’m lonely, Blaine. I want to feel good again. And you made me feel amazing.” He skims one hand down past Blaine’s defined chest and toned stomach. Stops right below his belly button. Teases his fingers at the base of Blaine’s cock. Feels Blaine grow hard against his hip. Confidence growing about this whole thing knowing Blaine wants him. “Please, make me feel that way again.”

Blaine says nothing for a long moment. Kurt starts to fear that he royally fucked up. That maybe he wanted this more than Blaine does, and he just made a complete fool out of himself. And that growing doubt and fear only intensifies when Blaine grabs his upper arms and pushes him away a few inches. The hard set of Blaine’s eyes feels like a precursor to his anger. Which he rightfully deserves. Because here he is propositioning his boyfriend’s dad for sex when said boyfriend is nearby. He really is what he confessed last night: a terrible person.

Tears fill his eyes as shame and embarrassment have him wanting to flee. Not just this bathroom, but the hotel and Aspen. He wants to run away until there are states between Blaine and him. Until endless space between them is all they share.

“I’m sorry.” He looks away from Blaine. From the man he’s shamelessly and selfishly fantasized about for a year. He drops his eyes to his feet.

He would give anything to curl into a ball and disappear in that moment. To go back a day and rescind Blaine’s dinner invite. To not know how it feels to be with Blaine. Wishes things were better with Dex so he didn’t have to fantasize about his dad, or turn to him when he wants to feel good.

“Kurt, look at me.”

Although he would rather continue to stare at his feet and not see the sympathy and anger in Blaine’s eyes, he lifts his head. A small, surprised gasp is torn from him when, instead of sympathy and anger, he finds Blaine’s eyes darkened with arousal and need.

Hope and excitement start to bloom. They chase out the shame and guilt he was feeling moments before.

Blaine pushes him until his back comes in contact with the tiled wall. “We shouldn’t do this.”

Kurt hears the underlying uncertainty in Blaine’s voice. And he should be the good guy he’s always been and accept Blaine’s answer as finality. But he can’t. Not when last night was the best night of his life. Not when he’s never felt desire so great for someone. That’s why he confidentially hooks a leg around Blaine’s waist and pulls him close. Why he says, “But?”

A sexy, salacious grin spreads across Blaine’s face. “But I want you too fucking much to push you away.”

Kurt moans when Blaine crushes their mouths together in a brutal, fiery kiss.

This is so wrong and fucked up. But he can’t stop himself. Won’t deny himself what he wants, even though he’s hurting someone.

Whatever the consequences are if Dex finds out, he rightfully deserves.

Right now, though, he deserves to feel good.

He rocks against Blaine. Their cocks glide together. The glide is made easier by the water and precum sliding down the sides of their cocks.

Blaine lifts his other leg and wraps it around his waist. Starts to rock faster against him. Admits with a groan, “I wanted this for so long.”

Kurt shivers at the pleasure Blaine is creating inside him and the honesty in his voice. He looks at Blaine and admits his own longing.

“How long?” Blaine curiously asks.

He doesn’t feel bad saying, “Since I first met you.”

Blaine groans and roughly kisses him.

They suddenly become frantic in their movements. Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s neck. Smashes his lips together to hold in the moans wanting to break free.

The mounting pleasure inside him spills over moments later. He buries his face in the side of Blaine’s neck as his orgasm slams into him. He spasms against Blaine while his cock jerks and spills between their bodies.

He’s still trembling against Blaine and riding his high when Blaine finally comes. A moan escapes him when Blaine’s hot cum hits his skin and mixes with his own. It’s dirty and hot.

A few minutes pass where they say nothing. Both of them trying to catch their breath. Kurt feels Blaine’s heart pounding against his chest. Hears his heavy exhales by his ear.

Blaine finally steps back after setting him down. He moves to stand under the water.

Kurt stares at him. Stares at his back that is to him. At the strength he sees. He knows Blaine works out to keep the body he has. That he works hard for it. And he appreciates that. Appreciates every single inch of Blaine’s sculpted, hard body.

Eyes drop down to Blaine’s full, round ass. An ass he’s thought about more than his boyfriend’s. Said boyfriend who does not take after his dad.

Tired of staring and wanting to touch, Kurt steps close to Blaine and presses to his back. Water cascades down around them. It quickly washes away the cum still on his skin.

Blaine covers his arms when he wraps them around his stomach. “We should get out soon.”

“We should,” Kurt repeats, but not wanting that. He wants to have more fun.

He reaches a hand down and skims his fingers along Blaine’s soft cock.

“Kurt.” Blaine groans.

“How long until you can get hard again?” Kurt wraps his hand around Blaine’s cock and gives a soft stroke. He kisses at Blaine’s neck. “Because I want you to fuck me again.”

Blaine covers Kurt’s hand and guides him in jerking him off. “I’m forty-five years old, Kurt. I’m going to need a few minutes.”

“That’s okay. I can wait.”

“Dex?”

Kurt understands Blaine’s concerns. So, he eases his worries. “Trust me, he’ll be passed out until after noon.” He’s dealt with a drunk Dex enough to know his patterns. To know he’ll sleep until the middle of the afternoon sometimes after a night of drinking.

“Fuck.”

Kurt isn’t sure if Blaine says that more because of what they’re doing or because he’s upset with his son. Maybe a combination of both.

As he strokes Blaine, guided by his hand, he takes in every ridge and vein of Blaine’s cock. The length and girth of him. Which is something else Dex didn’t take after from his dad. Where Dex is average in size and not that girthy, Blaine is bigger in length and girth. And he loves the upgrade.

He reaches his free hand down to play with Blaine’s balls. Feels the heaviness of them in his hand. Rolls and tugs them. Anticipates the moment he gets to suck them into his mouth.

With his hands on Blaine, and one of Blaine’s hands covering his, Kurt imagines what they look like. Groans at the mental picture he has. Knows there would be no coming back or talking himself out of this if Dex were to walk in and find them.

That should be enough to stop this and walk away. But it’s not. He’s positive nothing ever will be.

After several minutes of slowly stroking Blaine, Kurt feels him start to grow hard again. “Someone is ready,” he hotly whispers into Blaine’s ear before sucking and lightly biting the lobe.

Blaine grabs both his wrists and removes his hands. Kurt is about to complain when Blaine turns to face him with a fiery need in his eyes. He shivers at the sight. At the possibility it brings.

His whole body suddenly aches for this man. The emptiness he feels intensifying. He’s never wanted someone so badly like he wants Blaine.

Kurt steps back as Blaine steps toward him. His back comes in contact with the wall again. He breathes heavily with anticipation and need.

“You going to fuck me now?” His body would really love it if Blaine fucked him.

“No. Not yet.”

That’s not the answer he wanted to hear.

“Why?”

“Because,” Blaine grins, “there’s something else I would like to do first.”

“W-What?”

Blaine drops to his knees and looks up at Kurt. He wraps a hand around his stiff cock and strokes. Thumbs at the head. “Last night, when I sucked your cock, I quickly realized I could do that every day for the rest of my life.”

Kurt loves the sound of that. So does his cock since it twitches in Blaine’s hold. He rocks forward so it glides in and out of Blaine’s tight fist. Does that a few times. But whimpers when Blaine suddenly lets go and grabs at his hips.

All the warning he gets is Blaine saying I need to taste you before sinking his mouth down around him. He barely has time to slap a hand over his mouth before he loudly moans. With his free hand, he grabs the back of Blaine’s head.

Mouth clamped shut, and sure he won’t be loud, he drops his hand to grab at Blaine’s shoulder. He shuts his eyes and allows himself to sink into the sensation of Blaine sucking him off.

When Blaine did this the night before, he nearly came the moment his mouth was on him. This had been something he fantasized about frequently. Thought about it when he jerked off. Is even ashamed to say he thought of Blaine whenever Dex would go down on him. But it’s been months since Dex has done that. That’s another reason he almost came so quickly the night before. It’s been a while since he’s had the kind of attention Blaine is giving him.

He won’t apologize for going after something he needs and craves. Even if it’s with someone that isn’t his boyfriend. He’s human. Has needs just like everyone else. Needs that are not being met. Dex hasn’t attempted to touch him in weeks. And he’s tried on his part. He’s done everything he can think of. Even went as far as greeting Dex naked when he came home. But Dex took one look at him and walked away. That hurt more than Kurt will ever admit. To have your boyfriend look at you with no interest and walk away. He felt ridiculous. Held back tears as he dressed and fled Dex’s apartment. Promised himself as he made his way home that Dex’s sudden loss of interest in him had nothing to do with him. That something else was going on.

After that, he tried a few more times to get Dex to fuck him and ended up with the same results. Each rejection felt more and more disheartening than the last. That’s why he was happy for this Aspen trip. He saw it as a perfect opportunity for them to rekindle the spark that had gone out. To try and save what they had.

Fate, though, had other plans.

Confessing to Blaine the night before that his son hadn’t touched him in weeks seemed to light the fuse that started this. And he wouldn’t go back and take those words back.

As Blaine sucks and bobs his head, twirls his tongue around the swollen head of his cock, Kurt thinks of what else he told Blaine. That he had his reasons for staying with Dex.

At first he stayed with Dex because he thought he was happy with him and didn’t want to lose that. But he quickly realized that wasn’t the truth. It dawned on him one day a few months ago when Dex asked if he wanted to have dinner with him and his dad. The excitement and rush of joy he felt at the mere mention of Blaine was like a light bulb going off. He knew right then and there that the only reason he was staying with Dex was because of Blaine.

Guilt washed over him as he sat there. He tried his hardest to shove the thought away. Spent the next few weeks trying to fix his relationship to ignore the glaring truth. But he couldn’t. Blaine was his happiness. The person to make him genuinely smile and laugh. To make his heart race and stomach flip. The guy he thought about when he first woke up and before he went to sleep.

Blaine is why he stayed.

He didn’t want to lose that. Decided to stay with someone who lost interest just so he could still see their dad. But he made himself promise he would never do anything with Blaine. Promised to try and fix his relationship with Dex.

He kept those promises. Until last night. Until everything boiled over. Until his long denied desires and needs and feelings had him going after the one person he shouldn’t have fucked.

Karma is a tough bitch. But he deserves whatever it throws at him for what he did, and is doing.

Cold air hits his dick when Blaine pulls off. He looks down and watches him kiss and mouth along his cock. Thrusts forward when Blaine lightly nips at the base of his cock.

Before he can say anything, Blaine dips his head down and takes his balls into his mouth. Sucks on them a few times before releasing them. Lifts his head and sinks his mouth back down around him.

Kurt lets out a small moan as Blaine starts to suck him again. He holds the back of his head tighter and starts to shallowly thrusts his hips. Revels in the sensation of his cock sliding between Blaine’s lips.

He does that until the water starts to turn cold. Doesn’t increase his force or pace. Keeps his slow momentum since he doesn’t want to come this way.

Slowly fucking Blaine’s mouth, terror suddenly seizes Kurt for a brief moment when he thinks he hears something outside the door. He stops Blaine and listens; stares at the bathroom door expecting it to be flung open at any second by Dex to confront them.

Blaine stands and looks at the door. “What is it?”

Kurt looks at Blaine and breathes a sigh of relief at knowing they’re still safe. That they’re horrible secret is still just that. “Nothing,” he says. “I thought I heard something. It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He grabs Blaine’s chin and turns his head so he’s looking at. “As much fun as this has been, will you please fuck me now?”

Blaine chuckles. “Yeah. Not here, though.”

They turn off the water and step out of the shower. After drying off, Kurt follows Blaine out to his massive bedroom. The king sized bed draws his attention. A blush staining his cheeks at what they’re about to do on it.

“Bend over the end,” Blaine orders before walking to his open luggage and grabbing his toiletry bag.

Kurt bends over the end of the bed as instructed. Shivers as the cool air hits his hot skin.

The sound of a lock sliding into place reaches his ears. He looks back in time to see Blaine walking away from the door while holding a condom and small bottle of lube. His stomach clenches as his need ramps up.

“Your ass is amazing.” Blaine grabs at his ass with both hands after dropping the supplies on the bed. He palms and squeezes at the flesh. Spreads him open. “How could he not want you?” he silently muses.

That’s the million dollar question right there. One Kurt has no answer to.

Blaine drawing the pad of a finger over his hole makes him shiver. He pushes back on the touch. Wants more when Blaine pulls away.

He hears the click of the bottle of lube being opened. Steps out further right before Blaine presses in with two slick fingers.

“Tell me, Kurt?”

“What?”

Blaine works his fingers in and out. Slowly fucks Kurt with them. “Have you always had a thing for older guys?”

The answer to that surprises even Kurt. “No.” Before Blaine, he wasn’t into older men like some of his friends were. Didn’t see the appeal. Then he understood when he met Blaine. Saw how mature and grown up he was compared to the guys his age who still acted like kids. And he really understood the appeal last night when Blaine fucked him. Where men his age are just in the game, someone older like Blaine has years of experience. Which showed last night when he fucked him better than any of the men he slept with previously.

“You love having this older guy fuck you now, huh?” Blaine says as he pushes into him after rolling the condom on. “Love how I made you feel?”

Kurt arches and pushes back to take more of Blaine into his body. “Yes,” he whines.

Once Blaine is sheathed inside him, he immediately starts to rock back on him.

“Can you reach a pillow?”

Kurt reaches up and barely manages to grab a pillow with his fingertips. He gives it to Blaine, who shoves it under his hips to prop his ass up. Hands on his shoulders hold him down. Blaine shoves as deep as he can and grinds against him. Rolls his hips over and over. He clutches at the sheet beneath his hands. Humps the pillow under him for some relief on his aching cock.

Blaine’s grunts and groans mix with his moans and whimpers when he really starts to fuck him. When he slams his hips forward so hard he’ll be feeling it later.

Sex has never been this good for him. Especially with Dex. Where with Dex it was always about him, and getting him off, with Blaine it’s the opposite. Blaine makes it about him and his pleasure. Makes sure he is taken care of before coming. And it’s nice to come first instead of lying there afterwards and jerking off to finish.

Skin slaps together as Blaine fucks him hard and fast. And when Blaine pulls out and flips him over, he lifts his legs to wrap around him. Moans when he sinks back inside him. When he grabs behind his knees and pushes them up to his chest.

As Blaine moves, he notices him keep his eyes trained down on where his cock is disappearing inside his ass. Remembers him doing the same thing the night before. Realizes Blaine likes watching himself fuck his ass. It makes him grin.

The pressure builds until he can no longer ignore it. He reaches a hand down to grab his cock. But Blaine immediately grabs it and his other hand and holds them down by the wrists above his head with one hand. “I make you come,” he growls.

Kurt trembles.

Blaine’s free hand wraps around his cock and strokes.

It takes all of four strokes before he’s coming. He cries out while spilling over Blaine’s fist. Pleasure swirls through him. And it only grows and grows as Blaine continues to stroke and fuck him through his release. He makes sure to wring out every drop of pleasure from him that he can.

Right as he finishes coming is when he feels Blaine bury himself deep inside his body and come. The hand around his wrists tightens its hold as Blaine’s cock jerks inside him.

After, after Blaine rides out his release and pulls out, after they scoot up on the bed to lie in the middle, after Blaine disposes of the used condom in the trash and wipes their stomachs, Kurt lies on his side and stares at the man he can’t stop wanting.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Blaine reaches over and brushes a strand of hair from Kurt’s face.

“I was loud,” Kurt replies. “That was dangerous.”

“Considering the moment, I won’t hold it against you.”

Kurt moves close and cuddles against Blaine, who drapes an arm over his side and holds him. He wishes he could spend hours in this bed with Blaine fucking and being held close.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Blaine says.

“What?”

“Last night you said something.”

“I said a lot of things last night.”

Blaine chuckles “At dinner.”

“What did I say at dinner?” Kurt has a feeling he knows where Blaine is going with this.

“You said you had your reasons for staying.” Blaine skims a thumb down Kurt’s cheek and strokes it over his lips. “At first, I thought it was because of the sex.”

Kurt snorts. Can see where Blaine would think that. “And now?”

“Now, I’ve had time to think.” Blaine wraps his hand around Kurt’s neck. Strokes his thumb along his jaw. In a serious voice, he asks, “Why did you stay, Kurt?”

A sheepish smile spreads across Kurt’s face. A blush stains his cheeks. “You know why.”

“I do. But I want to hear you say it.”

Kurt pushes Blaine to his back and lies on top of him. He smiles a big, happy smile down at him. “I stayed because of you.”

A huge smile of Blaine’s own turns up his mouth. “We are in so much trouble.”

“We are,” Kurt agrees before dipping his head down and claiming Blaine’s mouth in a kiss.

They steal a few more minutes on that bed kissing and holding each other. It takes great effort on Kurt’s part to finally climb out of bed and walk out of Blaine’s room. But he does so with a grin and a wonderful twinge in his ass. And a promise from Blaine of more.

Dex is still sprawled on the bed passed out when he walks back into their room. Anger unfurls inside him at the sight. At his reckless, childish boyfriend who seems to only care about himself.

He can’t remember what he ever saw in him. Can’t remember what made him agree to that first date. And that’s not a good thing.

Kurt takes a quick rinse to wash away the smell of Blaine and sex and the last of cum on his skin. Steps out of the bathroom to Dex still sleeping.

He walks out to the living room after dressing and finds Blaine sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone. Without thought or care, he walks up to him and grabs at his shoulders before straddling his lap.

Blaine sets his phone aside before grabbing at Kurt’s hips. “What are you doing?”

“Having some fun.” Kurt drops down to sit in Blaine’s lap.

“Some dangerous fun.”

“Isn’t that the best kind?”

Blaine grins. “It is.”

Even though he shouldn’t, considering Dex could wake up and walk out of the bedroom at any moment and catch them, Kurt closes the space between them and kisses Blaine. Fire immediately ignites the moment their mouths touch. It grows wild and uncontrollable inside him when Blaine teases his lips open and thrusts their tongues together.

Kurt begins to rock against Blaine. Holds in the moans at the wonderful sensation of their cocks rubbing together.

“Want you again,” he softly murmurs against Blaine’s lips.

This sudden and strong hunger for Blaine is no surprise to him. Not only has he gone weeks without his boyfriend touching him, but he’s been crushing on said boyfriend’s dad since he first met him. So this is him finally being able to unleash all the desire and need that’s been built up inside him for over a year.

“We can’t,” Blaine replies.

Kurt playfully pouts after pulling back. He hates the reply but understands. It’s too much of a risk to have sex right here right now.

Blaine slides one hand around and pushes it past the waistband of Kurt’s jeans and underwear and palms at his ass.

“Let’s go somewhere, then.”

He watches Blaine consider the suggestion for a moment. Really hopes he takes him up on his offer. Because this morning wasn’t enough for him. He’s hungry for more.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care.”

“Alright. I know a place.”

Some time later, Kurt holds Blaine’s hand as he leads them to something called the Silver Queen Gondola.

“What is this?”

“A gondola ride up to the mountain.”

“Oh. Um…” Kurt rips his hand out of Blaine’s even though that’s the last thing he wants to do.

Blaine looks at him with worry. “What’s wro- You’re scared of heights. Right.”

Kurt’s heart jumps at Blaine remembering that. Just as it did last night when he remembered why he learned French.

“I… I can’t.” He shakes his head and starts to walk backwards.

“No.” Blaine grabs his hand and stops him. “It’s okay, Kurt. It’s a twenty minute ride up that mountain.” He points up the mountain. “And twenty minutes is a long time.”

“Yeah. To be filled with terror.”

“No.” Blaine grins and leans in to whisper into Kurt’s ear, “To suck your dick so you forget about the height thing.”

Kurt’s stomach clenches. “Oh. Yeah. That… That is enough time,” he babbles.

Blaine pulls back with an even wider grin. “Then lets go.”

In front of the gondola that will take him up the mountain, Kurt pulls in a deep breath to calm his already racing heart. He steps inside and clings tight to Blaine after he joins him. The terror he spoke of earlier coming on in full swing.

“It’s okay.” Blaine kisses the top of his head and says, “I’ll make it better soon.”

Soon happens a couple minutes into the ride. Kurt sits down and lets Blaine pull his ass to rest at the edge of the seat after he drops down between his legs. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. What if someone sees?”

“No one will see. Now, relax and enjoy the ride.”

Fifteen minutes later, Kurt walks off the gondola flushed, riding a pleasure high, and wearing the biggest smile.

“That’s a new way to start to get over a fear.”

Blaine chuckles.

“So, what are we doing now?”

“Lunch and then I figured we could do the guided nature walk. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like fun.”

For the next few hours, Kurt has the most fun he’s had in a long time. Blaine and him talk and laugh like they haven’t done in a while. He completely forgets about his boyfriend. Has no remorse or guilt since he is owed this piece of happiness.

Later, laughing at something Blaine said as they walk into the hotel room, Kurt is a bit upset to see Dex awake and sitting in the dining area eating. He quickly hides his disappointment at not being able to fool around with Blaine. Plasters on a fake, cheery smile. “Hey, Dex. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Dex grumbles. “Where were you two?”

“Oh, Blaine invited me to go on a gondola ride.” Kurt removes his scarf and hangs it over the back of the chair. “Then we had lunch and went on this wonderful nature walk.”

“It was great. I wish you could have joined us,” Blaine adds.

Kurt knows that’s bullshit. Especially since Blaine took every opportunity they had to kiss him out in the open where no one knew them and what they were doing.

“That’s not for me.” Dex stands and takes his dirty dishes to the sink.

“What are you doing tonight?” Blaine asks.

“Why?”

“I thought we could all have dinner together.”

“Oh. Um…” Dex runs a hand through his shaggy, curly hair. “The guys invited me to a party they’re throwing.”

“A party?” Kurt questions. “But you promised to make -up last night to me.”

“I know. But we still have two weeks here,” Dex replies. “I can do that any time. You can come with me to the party if you want.”

“No thanks.” Although he knows their relationship is basically over at this point, it still hurts to be rejected and ignored in this way by Dex. “I’ll go with Blaine to dinner.”

“Alright. I’m gonna go shower and get ready to meet up with the guys. They want to hangout before the party.”

“Okay.” Kurt turns and walks away. Hears Dex tell Blaine that he’ll most likely crash at the house where the party is being held. And he feels no guilt at the excitement that courses through him at knowing that while his boyfriend parties away he’s going to be having hot, dirty sex with Blaine all night long.

As he sits on the couch, he notices Blaine walk after his son looking angry and frustrated. He yawns and lies down; tired after everything he’s done today. Eyes fall closed and it feels like seconds later that someone is kissing him awake. He returns the kiss. Already knows the feel of Blaine’s mouth against his to know it’s him that he’s being kissed by. Briefly forgets where they are and who could catch them. He tenses with fear and pulls away.

“It’s okay. He’s gone,” Blaine says.

Kurt relaxes. “How long have I been asleep?”

“About an hour. I wanted to let you sleep.” Blaine cups the side of his face. Strokes a thumb over his flushed cheek. “I’m sorry about Dex. I tried talking to him.”

“It’s okay. I expect nothing different from him. Besides,” Kurt covers Blaine’s hand with his own, “I can spend the night in your bed.”

“You can.” Blaine grins. “Are you sure you can handle what I can give you?”

Kurt’s stomach clenches at the promise Blaine’s voice holds. “I’m ready to try.”

He sits up and climbs into Blaine’s lap after he sits down next to him. Hungrily kissing him, he can’t help but to think that between Dex and him, he got the better deal on this trip to Aspen.

As he kisses Blaine, thrusts his tongue against Blaine’s, he reaches down and pops the button of Blaine’s jeans before shoving his hand inside. He grabs Blaine’s hard, thick cock. Aches to have it inside him.

“Let’s skip dinner,” he suggests.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We can order room service. I want you to fuck me.”

Blaine groans. “Sounds good to me.”

Kurt lets out a small squeal when Blaine stands and tosses him over his shoulder before heading to his room. Tossed on the bed, he is perfectly content and happy to start their night of sex early.

A few hours and a couple rounds of amazing sex later, Kurt watches Blaine as he takes the power nap he suggested. The warmth that blooms and grows inside him is something he’s never felt before. No man has ever come close to making him feel what Blaine makes him feel with a simple look or smile.

He’s fucked. Well and truly fucked. Because he knows with all that he is that he’s in love with his boyfriend’s dad.

He’s in love with Blaine.

It fucking terrifies him to come to that realization. Because this will cause nothing but trouble for everyone.

Kurt pushes that realization down and focuses on the moment. Doesn’t want to ruin this night with Blaine. And when Blaine wakes up and pulls him close, he drowns in the pleasure he gives him to avoid the feelings raging inside him.

#klaine #klaine fic #Kurt Hummel #Blaine Anderson #prompt fill #sorry again for a fill that doesn't follow the prompt too much #okaybutihitanightfury

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samwrights · 4 years

Text

I Found You

I have no excuses for this one except I’m a dirty dirty Overhaul fucker.

On the real though, this one was very loosely inspired from Yagami Yato’s plot lines for Dabi and Overhaul. These routes inspired the Underground and Dabi and Kai’s occupations, otherwise everything else was just me being a simp.

⤞ Pairing: tattooed!Reader x Former Villain!Chisaki Kai

⤞ Word Count: 16,850. Yes you read that right.

⤞ Warnings: language, arson, awkward questions, reader smokes, I shafted Dabi again and made him the best friend...again, slightly vivid gore, mentions of death, male masturbation, daddy kink, age difference, breeding kink (ish), dirty talk, dom!Kai,

I’m sorry this is so long. Just kidding, no I’m not. I love writing really long fics. Honestly, I’m trying to see how much I can push the boundaries of my writing and how long I can keep one idea conhesive and consistent and how much I can flesh out. Eventually these longer oneshots will be cross-posted to my AO3, I just really need to do my paper. Also Tropium Tattoos is pronounced as Tro-Pie-Um.

The color of fire always burns in accordance to temperature as well as the material that it’s burning. Watching the local Underground clinic slash orphanage burn not only red, but an almost ethereal green from the copper couplings and details of the building felt like an early Christmas warning—like the Underground was a target and the rest of the hidden city would soon follow by the holiday. That warning was only followed by disgust at the thought of someone feeling the need to go after a free clinic and orphanage in a city built out of a hollow sewer full of exiles for whatever fucking reason.

Your heart is an amalgam of aching and sorrow and anger as you watch the flames burst through the windows of the shoddy building from a safe distance. From where you stood outside of your tattoo parlor only two blocks down, you see a crowd beginning together. Much to your surprise, most of them were only kids with one adult herding them—a man you recognized to be the owner of the building currently meeting its demise.

The doctor of the clinic is as calm as ever, or rather trying to be, quietly attempting to do a headcount of his children. It seemed that concentration was alluding him, given the situation, because he swears up and down that he knows he has nine kids. Yet, he seemed to be unable to count past eight. He’s trying not to panic, but one of the kids speaks his greatest fear into fruition. “Daddy, Eri’s not here!” Golden eyes widen until the sclerae are fully round, pupils constricting in fear. This ‘Eri’ was special, you realize as you observe from a short distance away. The doctor is looking back at his children who are all in some form of tears and shambles then back at the burning building like a ferocious game of ping pong. Chisaki Kai can’t just leave his kids out here—not when he is almost certain that this attack was premeditated. But his daughter, his eldest daughter at that, was still inside potentially being engulfed by flames.

Back and forth.

Your body moves without a second thought.

Your body moves, ignoring the screams from other bystanders for you not to go inside the burning clinic as you burst past the dilapidated red door. Upon entering, copper decor and steel support beams had fallen from the ceiling, sparking flames that were separating you from the stairwell that led up to the orphanage. There was no way you would be able to find this Eri person through the wreckage—not alone at least. Maybe your dumb quirk was good for something.

You didn’t even realize you had a quirk until the age of twenty when you had gotten your first tattoo. It wasn’t anything crazy—a traditional-style three-eyed wolf’s head on your arm—only to wake up the following morning with no soreness, no tenderness, and no ink on your body. The wolf laid beside you, curled up in your bed, somehow manifesting into real life. At first it was terrifying, of course, but after learning how to return the creature back to your body you realize it might not have been a total waste of money. Your quirk, something you jokingly called the Magic Pencil quirk in reference to a Spongebob Squarepants episode from your childhood, was officially registered through the government on the Surface as Life Canvas. Again, it was a pretty dumb quirk unless you knew just what to utilize. Now your body was littered with dozens of creatures, weapons, hell even a telephone just in case you might need it. But the wolf was your favorite, as it was your first, and he was just the one to call for in this situation. Activating your quirk, you pinch at the ink on your forearm until it begins to peel off before setting it down on the ground. The line work stands on its own before the ink fills out into a three-dimensional mass and a now recognizable creature.

“There’s a child somewhere here. Help me find them,” you implored your creation, cautiously climbing around the shambles while it did the same, though much nimbler than you. Fragments of the stairs were missing, some of railings were in flames—it was hard for you to get anywhere at the moment. A scream rips through the walls, a young girl you realize. She’s probably now seeing your large and somewhat creepy three-eyed wolf. Maneuvering carefully, you find spots that have yet to burn until you see a little girl cowering away from flames in her bedroom and away from your quirk. “Take my hand!” You try to scream, but the way building was going down was deafening. Instead, you cross a patch of fire to scoop the frail child in your arms and trapping the both of you behind a brazen wall of flames. Patting the wolf on the head, as if deflating it with your magical hands, it flattens back into a two dimensional drawing and returns to your body to grant you the ability to switch out to a manifestation that would prove to be more useful in this situation. You repeat the process, this time with a Phoenix from under your bosom that emerges just outside the window closest to the two of you. “Hold on tight,” you tell her as you pull her flush against your own body before smashing through glass to land the back of the Phoenix, covering her head to make sure the shards didn’t mar her skin. With a gentle descent, you place her feet first on the concrete with her family.

“Eri!” The doctor of the clinic calls out in relief, arms wrapping around his daughter tightly. Your lips purse in a small, tight smile before you’re off on your way again, riding off into the horizon on the back of your strange creature. And for a moment, Chisaki Kai is torn between going after you to thank you while Overhaul wants nothing more than cleanse his children and you for touching his precious daughter with a vile quirk. He settles on the former, golden eyes watching your back disappear into the dark cavern of the Underground city.

Weeks had passed since the fire burned down the orphanage clinic. Tabloids were published trying to figure out who the mysterious hero was, though most of the articles feared that an actual Hero was among the residents of the Underground. The Underground welcomes Heroes like the human body welcomes the plague—they tried to be eradicated and killed off. Not to say that quirks themselves weren’t welcome, no. It’s just that most of the residents were quirkless and those that did have one were all registered in a public database, separate from the government mandated one up on the Surface, so that quirk wielders were no secret.

All but you, anyway.

One of these well-known resident holders was Chisaki Kai. Quirk: Overhaul. Local doctor and caretaker of the orphaned, quirkless kids. Though, whether their powers had yet to manifest or he had removed them himself due to his vile distaste for the genetic mutation was unknown to the public.

Another was the leader of the Underground: Dabi. The Cremation user who was presently lounging in one of your dingy, beat up sofas of your tattoo shop. “You know, most of the people just want to know who you are,” he supplies, flipping through the most recent news article. Instantly, he knew it was you that had rescued the little girl from the burning building, knowing full well of your quirk regardless of how rarely you used it.

“And half of them want my head because they think I’m a Hero,” you spit the last word out as you finish tidying up your workspace. Your last client of the evening had just left, leaving you to close up shop while Dabi came to bother you as you did so. Not that you complained considering he had been a close friend for a long time. “Like I would ever be a Hero.” Heroes were the reason you and many others here in the Underground existed in this hidden sewer metropolis. Whether the Heroes had destroyed their livelihoods, their families or, in your case, accidentally killed your parents while you were still a teenager and you had nowhere to go, they were at fault for the creation of this cozy, dingy city.

“Says here that Eri wishes to personally thank you,” Dabi adds, turquoise eyes flickering in your direction as you stop at the mention of her name. “We could hold some little rally, get you a medal—“

“Dabi, no.”

“—or you could just stop by town hall with me. Overhaul and the kids have been staying there while the clinic gets rebuilt.” You mull his words over in your head while capping all your ink bottles and putting them away in their respective drawers. Dabi takes your silence as a gesture of you thinking, even more so as you aggressively sanitize your client chair. “Come on, [ name ], she’s just a kid.”

“Yeah, but I hate kids.”

“Then stop acting like one.” With that, the leader leaves your shop, bells tolling as he exits. You weren’t being childish, you internally bite, silently and stubbornly. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t want to just announce that the lone tattoo artist of the Underground had a quirk that the public didn’t know about. It wasn’t your fault that your body moved without thinking. And it certainly wasn’t your fault that you rescued the daughter of the most notorious quirk hater in the city.

Chisaki Kai was not quiet when it came for his distaste of quirks despite having one himself. Rumors floated all around the Underground that all of the children in his care had their quirks removed by his own hand, Eri included. What kind of monster did that? To his own child, no less. The thought made you sick to your stomach, only reaffirming your initial decision to not meet with Eri.

But thinking of her brings great sadness to you. She was merely a child—a child who probably didn’t understand her father’s distaste. A kid who just wanted to thank the woman who saved her and nothing else. A sigh passes your lips as you head up the stairs from your shop to your attached apartment, turning off the lights to Tropium Tattoos. It’s not fair to deny her, you think.

Maybe you’ll just sleep on it for now.

The following morning was quiet, as it was every morning in a city built out of a sewer. But eerily...too quiet. The sound of chirping nature and wildlife was a foreign concept now, especially years later. But there were no sound of bikes or clunky old cars passing by or arguing neighbors—if noise was present at all, it was in the form of faint crackling and crinkling of papier-mâché but somehow on a grander scale. It was new. There’s a grotesque smell in the air; a cross between a stale bonfire and rotting wood and warm smoke.

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

Panic fills your veins, throwing your nearly bare body out from under the covers. Ripping open your bedroom door and flying out the narrow entryway that led to the stairwell, you’re met with orange flames burning the wood of your staircase leading down to your shop. There’s no time for you to think about anything other than retreating back to your living room, to where the flames had yet to enter the threshold. Glancing out the large bay window behind your couch, you debate how steep of a drop it is from your second story down onto the cold pavement without sparing a second thought to how you could break your own fall. Contemplation wears down at your time to escape, you realize, as the fire is now entering your living space and burning brightly like a firework and catches onto the wooden console table in your entryway as well as the walls. Without another moment’s hesitation, you throw yourself through the window, bracing for impact from both the glass and the inevitable shattering of at least one bone.

“[ name ]?!” You hear Dabi yelling over the sound of collapsing support beams from the inside of the building. All that’s on your mind is pain—throbbing pain and an ear-splitting cry as you try to cradle your probably broken arm from the back alley of your shop. Dabi calls out your name again, running over towards you while still trying to be somewhat mindful of all the shards of glass in fear of accidentally kicking more in your direction. Between rapid breaths, a few heavy coughs escape your lungs, no doubt from smoke inhalation. “I got you,” he murmurs as he picks you up gingerly. Another groan leaves your lips—your whole body hurts and were you more coherent and not in shock, you probably would have realized sooner that you’d broken more than just your arm. “Find who did this and bring them to me,” Dabi snarls at the small squadron behind him attempting to put out the fire that was destroying your livelihood as he makes his way back to town hall.

It takes everything in Dabi’s body to not stamp his entire way back into his living quarters and the only reason he isn’t is because he’s carrying your busted body. This is the fourth fire in two weeks with no discernible pattern. All he knows is that it started with Overhaul’s clinic and now has somehow reached your quaint and quiet tattoo shop. As a leader, it makes Dabi want to tear his hair out. As a friend, he’s just pissed off.

He’s thankful you’ve passed out just so he doesn’t have to deal with you bitching about how gruff he’s being. Though, it certainly dawned on him that you had probably fallen unconscious from the sheer agonizing pain of breaking multiple bones simultaneously. He sets you down, far from gently, in the residential living room upstairs of the Town Hall building. “Overhaul!” He bellows out, not even caring if the children heard his angry tone right now.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” the doctor appears from around the corner, a clearly agitated look on his face, even beneath a simple black mask. The irony isn’t lost on Dabi despite his composure—he remembers once upon a time when Kai only went by the name of his quirk. Funny how years go by. “Her again?” Overhaul all but sneers, looking at your limp body that was covered only in a thin tee shirt and a pair of panties. Ignoring that little fact of seeing so much painted flesh, he notices the distinct smell of burnt wood and swelling under the skin where the breaks were. “What happened to her?”

“Someone set [ name ]’s tattoo shop and apartment on fire. She jumped out of a window to get out.” Dabi is absolutely seething, little sparks of blue flames leaving his nostrils as he lets out tufts of air. “Idiot had no idea how to break her fall and busted her shit. Can you help her?”

“I suppose that would make us even.” The doctor snarks back thoughtlessly, but he can’t help but wonder why you didn’t use your little quirk to save yourself as you had with Eri.

“Good. I’m gonna go find this fucker.” With that, Dabi storms out of the living room and out of the town hall building, leaving Kai with the woman that saved his daughter’s life. At least maybe now, Eri could say thank you like she had been asking to do. He could say thank you.

Chisaki adjusts you on the couch so that you’re entirely flat on the cushions, mindful of the glass that’s embedded in your skin. If anything, he should probably remove those first. With gloved hands, he picks out all the shards he can see with his golden eyes while his mind wanders as he looks at the lines and colors of the tattoos that covered your body. From neck to toe, there was ink on nearly every inch—even the one dragon-snake hybrid on your face that wrapped around your temple and cheekbone. Despite your [ hair color ] locks matting your skin, Overhaul found all of your tattoos rather intriguing to look at; almost as if it weren’t flesh because the contact wasn’t causing him to break out in hives. Like your body told a story without you even needing to speak.

After getting all the glass cleared up, Kai gently pushed on your arms and legs, checking for any signs of bones out of place from where they should be or cushioning and swelling to protect the damaged areas, outside of the very obvious ones that nearly looked like softballs. Two breaks in your femur, four in your ulna from what he could feel—nothing that Overhaul couldn’t fix. Though, he had to make sure that everything had set the way it was supposed to and that you were able to use your limbs after he did the repair. That meant he would actually have to speak to you, and he comes to the realization the two of you never actually had the chance to speak to each other before. Maybe he shouldn’t be as judgmental of the fact that you had a defect—maybe you were like him and abhorrent at the fact that you had a mutation to begin with.

After using his own quirk, Overhaul checks for a pulse on your neck with two fingers, making sure you at least had a heartbeat before patiently waiting for you to regain consciousness. In the meantime, he continues picking out the fragments of glass that escaped his initial sweep—a task made slightly easier when the shards caught the light contrasted the dark lines embedded in your dermis. For a brief second, you stir against his touch before your eyes snap open. “Holy fuck, what happened?” You all but howl when you come to. You let out a deep gasp for breath, suddenly aware of the dull throbbing in your arm and leg as you attempt to make sense of your surroundings.

“Can you tell me if this hurts?” The doctor to your left says evenly, emotionless even, as he holds your wrist between his thumb and middle finger, moving your arm in all sorts of ways. A sharp inhalation sucks in between your teeth as it twists in ways you weren’t sure it could before. A grimace touches his lips underneath is plain, black cloth mask—maybe he didn’t set the bones correctly? Overhaul lays your arm flat, ready to make his adjustments, but as his gloved fingers padded closer, you found yourself retreating further into the depths of the couch cushions.

“I-I’m good,” your words come rushing out, desperate to dodge his touch. Why did you wake up with Overhaul over you? Did he take your quirk away? You’d have to investigate further when you were alone, test it out in private. Ignoring the dull hums of pain coming from your arms and legs, you manage to sit up, slumping over your knees before you realized where you were. “Town hall?”

“Yes. Do you remember anything?” You shake your head—you remember waking up to smelling the smoke in your apartment. You remember the fire creeping up the stairwell and the way orange painted your once tan walls. You remember jumping out the window, but everything else after is met with a blank slate. “You broke your arm and legs in a few places—I reset them with my quirk.”

“Oh,” is all you have to say. “Uh, thank you.”

“Speaking of thank you,” Overhaul palms his knees before pushing off of them from the wooden stool he’s sitting on, standing at his full height and smoothing out his black dress shirt and slightly creased slacks. “My daughter would like to thank you for rescuing her a few weeks back.”

Dammit.

It wasn’t like you could just say no to Eri’s father when it was only the two of you—that would just make you look like an asshole or worse; he could just kill you and say you died in the fire. It was even more difficult to decline considering the young, silver-haired girl was peeking her head from behind a partition, wide-eyed when her dad mentioned her. With your own eyes softening at the sudden contact, you offer an awkward smile that you pray comes off as welcoming. Overhaul beckons her to come closer, holding one hand open until the young girl is tucked underneath his hip.

“U-Um, t-thank you for saving me,” a squeak spills past her dry lips before she runs out of the room as quickly as she came. You didn’t blame her. Even if Overhaul is her father, he gave off an intimidating air that surely would frighten any child. It made you wonder how such a man ran an orphanage. But to your surprise, Eri returned, though this time not alone. A flock of children was accompanying her, each of them with bright eyes and big smiles adorning their unique appearances.

“Thank you for saving our sister!” They chime in unison. The sight made your heart swell and soften, even if only slightly. Eri steps forward cautiously, pushing through her own trepidation as she stands before you and throws herself at you, hugging you tightly with arms around your neck in gratitude. As if triggering a domino effect, a few of the other children felt the need to express the same sentiment. An uncomfortable laugh bubbles past your lips as you awkwardly wrap your arms around the gaggle of kids—you may not like them, but you weren’t that much of an asshole to deny them a hug.

Kai’s typically hard, cold expression mellows at the sight. It’s heartwarming, he gave it that, but a part of him cannot stave off the tiny bubble of envy he feels seeing his children so ready to embrace you when they initially had such a hard time adjusting to life with him. He loved these kids—and it was quite clear you felt the opposite—so why hadn’t they gravitated towards him like they did you? Underneath his mask, he grimaced before internally shaking his head. They were his children, they loved Kai regardless and he knew that. “Alright kids, why don’t you go play and let [ name ] rest? It’s been a rough morning for her.” The use of your name shouldn’t have shocked you, or maybe it was fear that crawled up your spine at the doctor’s endearing tone. You weren’t aware that he knew who you were. The kids let out a collective groan before listening to their father and exiting the living room. As soon as each of their little, youthful heads is out of sight, you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“S-sorry,” you mumble out, suddenly reminding yourself that it was probably rude of you to make a sound as such and you wanted to make sure you did nothing to insult Overhaul to his face. A huge part of you felt that one wrong word out of your mouth meant the end of your quirk or your life.

“It’s alright, I know they can be a handful. Though, they seem to be quite taken with you.” His tone is still rather polite, you notice, and his voice is entirely different than what you’d thought it would be in a one on one interaction. You thought it would be deeper, as whispers and rumors of Chisaki Kai being an incredibly cruel, bitter man painted a different picture in your head. But the man standing before you looked every bit as broken as you felt on the inside—as if a part of him had an empty chasm residing in his chest that could not be filled by the nine children in his care.

“I can’t imagine why,” you reply.

“Neither can I,” he says without skipping a beat, his tone still airy and light. Before you can rebuttal with your quick wit, Dabi storms in with his eyes locked on to your now conscious body. Gesturing with his head, over exaggerating the folds of his damaged skin, he encourages you to follow him downstairs to the mayoral study. Silently, you sauntered off behind him, leaving Overhaul alone in the living room, while you could feel the internal flames burning within Dabi. Pissed didn’t even begin to describe the look on his face.

In the office, photographs of burnt down buildings, rubble, and the skeletal framework of Underground businesses were littered across the large, maple desk. All the while, the leader of the Underground was grumbling to himself repeatedly while tugging at his raven locks in frustration. Not only had someone burned down local businesses in the city, let alone a close friend’s business, but it seemed that someone was attacking his city from the inside. “I wasn’t able to save Tropium.” You offer no response, mostly because there isn’t one to have. You felt anguish over losing your home, sure, but knowing how hard Dabi worked to protect the Underground, you can’t quite imagine how he’s feeling.

Instead, you respond with, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I should be asking you that. Your home is gone, [ name ].” He had a valid point. Perhaps you could find a few local contractors and give them some work—it wasn’t like you didn’t have the money to spare. But that would probably take some time considering, from photo evidence, the place—all of them—was going to need to be built from the ashes. “Stay here while you figure it out. It’s the least I can do.”

“Don’t you already have Overhaul and the kids staying here?” Maybe Dabi didn’t notice the way your voice trembled as you spoke his name, even more so after having woken up to him by your side. But the thought of you, a quirk wielder that kept that little fact hidden from the public, temporarily boarding with a man who was vehemently against the abomination of quirks gave you severe anxiety. Additionally, there was the nine little children that also were a factor and the thought of one of them waking up in your temporary residence and intruding on what little privacy you would have—

“And?” Dabi asks, pulling you from your reverie. “[ name ], I know I don’t say this enough, but you’re one of my closest friends. I don’t feel right not giving you a place to sleep.” His quirk may be Cremation, but Dabi was a master manipulator when it came to pulling at your heartstrings whether or not he was aware of that. You let out a sigh of conceding, knowing you wouldn’t be able to argue your way out of this one.

“One condition, bud,” you hold up a single index finger, the black quill feather tattooed there standing erect, “find me some contractors to help rebuild all the buildings that were burned dow.”

“That’s gonna cost ya,” Dabi hums, as if contemplating. And he was, but rather in estimated cost as opposed to the proposal itself. Physical currency was a rarity in the Underground, as the city ran on a merit and bartering system. Real Surface money was only used for certain occupations. Realistically speaking, he knew money was no object to you considering the wealth, or rather hush money, you acquired from your parents’ death, so there had to be another reason. Knowing you as well as he did, it was probably the fact that the faster your homes were rebuilt, the less time you would have to spend sharing walls with Overhaul. Very smart, the leader mused. “You got a deal, doll.”

You lost count of the days that had gone by since you took over the project of rebuilding the structures that had gone down. While the orphanage project had already begun, you had hired two additional bodies to help the progress go faster so that Dabi could return to his duties without the addition of eleven more mouths to feed. Simultaneously, you had been at your own construction lot from metaphorical sunup to sundown, helping contribute and manage the two men that were hired for your location.

You weren’t avoiding Overhaul, you told Dabi repeatedly when he asked where you’d been all day.

This project was an opportunity for you to set up shop in a reimagined way—to be able to design both your studio space and your living space exactly to your tastes. It had sort of become your baby and you wanted to be as hands on as possible.

You weren’t avoiding Overhaul, you kept telling yourself.

Tropium’s new store front was stunning, albeit a bit ill-fitting with its new modern style in contrast to the Underground’s more rustic, steampunk look. But the charcoal grey stone walls with chunky white trim filled your heart with a sense of pride that your business would hopefully rise from the ashes much like that of the Phoenix tattooed under your bosom.

Currently, you were upstairs with the tiny team of contractors while going over the floor plan of your currently bare apartment. Given the space of the empty building, you managed to enlarge your rooms at the cost of downsizing your entryway and living room. It still felt homey and, with the addition of a small office that served as a spare bedroom, you figured on nights that Dabi hung out and didn’t feel like going home, he had a space too. After laying out the floor plan and going over schematics with the team, you ventured back downstairs to continue sanding down the counters for your studio space.

“So, this is where you’ve been spending your time?” Oxygen freezes in your throat as you’re met with Overhaul’s golden eyes and black mask. Albeit he wasn’t in his normal dress shirt and tie for once, but rather sporting an oversized hoodie and tight denim jeans.

“W-what are you doing here?” Is all you can say back. You aren’t sure if you’re moving or even breathing at this point. The pressure you feel from a man whose face is half-covered is terrifying—liquid gold was dull in comparison to the intimidating eyes of Chisaki Kai.

“Dabi told me about your little deal,” his voice rolls like honey straight from the dripper as he makes small flits toward you that subconsciously leave you retreating back up the stairs one step at time. A deep groan rumbles in his chest when he sees your reaction—not that he blames you in the slightest. Overhaul is more than aware of his notorious reputation both in the real world and in the Underground and is accepting of strangers’ reluctance to be around him. He knows he’s partially to blame for not trying to quell the stigma around him by formally introducing himself prior. maybe not being such a condescending jackass when he first officially met you would have helped as well.

But he can’t squash the little bouts of jealousy that filled him seeing his children flock to you like dragonflies in search of water that almost make him bask in your trepidation.

“Take a walk with me,” Overhaul adds, torn between offering you a gloved hand as a metaphorical olive branch or simply turning around to see if you follow. He opts for the latter merely for the fact that you’re covered in dust and paint from your days’ work. Bounding after him, you stuff your hands into the pockets of your loose overalls as you try to catch up while bearing in mind to keep a short distance between the two of you. The two-block walk is brief and silent as you end up at the construction site of the clinic. Perhaps your memory of the building you never visited beforehand was skewed, but it you were certain it was much larger now. “Feel free to look around. After all, you’re paying for this.” There’s a twinge of malice that paints his invitation that isn’t lost on you, but you decide to forego the welcoming regardless.

Passing through the threshold cautiously, you’re greeted with what looks to be a regular, two story home. The skeletal structure foreshadowed a kitchen, dining room, living space, and a hallway leading to two rooms. One staircase that lead to a basement, one that lead upstairs—it was strange to see the clinic become more of a home than anything else. “Where are you putting the clinic?” You ask meekly, careful not to touch. Just because Overhaul invited you to check out the specs, doesn’t mean he wanted your lingering fingerprints ingrained in his space.

“Basement. I figured it would be better for the children to have majority of the space.” A pregnant pause takes over the conversation once again, leaving you to roam around the new space in appreciation. A part of you was pleased with the work the contractors did for this family, a large part even, but there was a small nagging voice in your head that was still telling you to retreat back to your own project. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” A brief chuckle that is muffled by his mask dances on his lips. He’s not sure which of his theories he wants to start unraveling first. So he starts with the one he believes to be most ludicrous—the conspiracy that you or somebody you worked for was trying to take this children away, or Eri at the very least. If people on the Surface knew about her and her quirk, Kai doesn’t doubt a bounty would be on her head. But truth be told, he knew this seemed unlikely. You had never bothered to even engage with him or anyone else in his family until recently, despite having come to the Underground shortly after its establishment.

“Rescue my daughter, for starters.” Of course he starts with the question you don’t have an answer for. To which you can only respond with the truth—your body moved on your own when you saw the panic in his eyes. Also knowing he had to watch his eight other children and ensure their safety prompted your body to act automatically. “You used your quirk to save Eri, but not yourself. Why?” Your eyes narrow slightly in both suspicion and out of confusion. It was strange that Overhaul kept demanding answers and logic and reason for things you did as a knee jerk reaction. Considering you’d only discovered your quirk just before going to the Underground, it wasn’t exactly what you would call a natural reaction. Plus, weaving through danger for someone else wasn’t as simple as just running in and out of the building as it was to jump out your bay window. Judging by his silence, it seemed he accepted that answer. “And the contractors?”

“I just want all of our lives to go back to normal, including Dabi.” It wasn’t exactly a lie—rather just a short omission of the truth—and it wasn’t like you could tell him that you couldn’t stand living in such close proximity with him due to fear. But Overhaul had a knack for pinpointing a fib like a honeybee in search of something sweet.

“You’re lying,” he bites. You shake your head almost violently, as if the movement will deter your mouth from telling him the truth in its entirety. There was no way you could admit the fear he instilled in your bones or the anxiety you felt standing close enough for him to touch you. Sure, you may have felt that your quirk was less than impressive but that didn’t mean you wanted him to take it away or worse, your life. Knowing that he knew about it too, while the public didn’t which was a requirement for living in the Underground, only reaffirmed your worries. “Do you fear me?” Overhaul asks, making note of the way your fingers were trembling and way your eyes constantly averted his.

“Yes,” your voice comes out as a mere whisper, barely rising above the hammering and drilling of the construction workers. A part of you wished that your admission made you feel better—like it felt like a weight lifting off of your shoulder rather than making it feel like you were denying some greater truth—a part of you just wanted to run and hide and pretend this interaction wasn’t happening.

It shouldn’t have hurt Kai as much as it did to hear you say it out loud, considering you were nothing but a stranger. But you were a stranger that his children were so utterly enamored with and all he wanted was to understand. Yet, the feeling of disappointment is a dull thrum in his chest, long forgotten with a wide array of other emotions and coming only second to his envy. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, though the monotone voice almost sounds insincere.

Perhaps, his jealousy is misplaced, he thinks. His children may be drawn to you, but at least they didn’t tremble or wrack their bones with trepidation the way you do when you see him. If anything, his jealousy is replaced with empathy. Despite your clear distaste for youth, you got along swimmingly with his kids and they clearly wanted to be present with you. It must have been difficult for you to be near them, even more so considering you trembled in their father’s presence. The two of you stand in silence with you looking away pretending to soak in your surroundings of the plastered walls. Overhaul is observing your nervous ticks—the way your twitching fingers are exaggerated by the ink in your skin or the way your knee bounces impatiently along the hardwood.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, come look at my roo—oh! [ name ] is here too!” Bounding down the unfinished staircase was one of the orphans in Overhaul’s care; Shura, if you remembered correctly.

“Just stopped by to see how the place was coming,” you offer in addition to a sheepish wave. Before you know it, Shura is grasping one of your hands with both of his while guiding you up the stairs.

“Come see our rooms, [ name ]!” Overhaul watches with curious eyes at the way one of his sons is so overzealous to include you in their little world. The appeal makes no sense to him—you were just a stranger with skin like a Monet painting that had made little to no effort for these children outside of rescuing Eri and allowing them to shower you in their affection.

Why did acknowledging that their enthusiasm to include you hurt Kai even more so, knowing you were afraid of him?

Trudging behind, Overhaul peers through the open doors upstairs to see each of his kids decorating their freshly painted walls. In Shura’s room, you were sitting on the floor with your arms wrapped around your knees while the little boy explained to you that he wanted his room to be decorated with narwhals. The excitement he had, and the knowledge of even knowing such a creature existed, was quite charming. “[ name ], are you gonna join us for dinner this time? Dabi says you’re always working, but daddy always makes you a plate just in case!” Your eyes glance over to Overhaul and his leisurely pose as he rests one arm on the door jamb. For a moment, your mouth open and closes repeatedly as you try to stutter out some semblance of an answer.

“Just in case,” the doctor adds, as if to add more pressure to his son’s convenient question. The golden orbs you normally deterred from swirled with an intensity that, much to your surprise, didn’t wrack your nerves like they normally did. It was as if they were filled with remorse rather their typical bitterness, maybe sympathy even, imploring you to consider Shura’s inquiry.

“I should go finish my work for today then so I can be home for dinner,” pushing yourself off of the freshly carpeted floor to stand. At some point while Shura was giving you the grand tour of his room, your legs had fallen asleep, causing your first step to hobble and throw you off balance and trip.

“Careful,” Overhaul chimes, bemused at the way you flail to recover from your stumble. To your surprise, he’s pushed himself off the door jamb, crossed through the threshold of Shura’s room, and has his arms locked underneath yours to keep you steady. “Drink some water before going back to work.”

“R-right,” you stutter out, hyper aware that his hands are touching you. He feels the way your tendons bunch together in your arms at the contact, even more so when your pupils lock into his. It untangles one more thread in his theories, one he figures he’ll push on later because it’s a theory just as farfetched as his last one. “I’ll, um, see you at dinner,” the last syllable rises in intonation as you squeak, flitting away and ignoring your numbed legs and blood burned cheeks. Meanwhile, Overhaul chuckles as he watches you scurry away, the blush painting your cheeks burning into his mind just as well. The way you moved was reminiscent of when he had reset your bones and the way you recoiled thereafter. But through thorough observation, he knew that reaction wasn’t fear this time around, no. Fear made you quiet, not nervous or jittery or force your pupils to dilate.

This was something else entirely.

Something else entirely to the point where Chisaki Kai is unsure if he even wants to entertain the possible theory that maybe, maybe, you’re the slightest bit infatuated with him.

“How nice of you to join us,” Dabi sneers teasingly when you set foot into the private entryway of town hall’s attached home. The makeshift family of ten is already seated at the extended dining table, an empty seat awaiting you on Dabi’s left with Overhaul on his right. Each of the children that you had come to be familiar with over the last few weeks had lit up like your presence was a treat—a strange feeling, considering you’d done the most to avoid being in the temporary residence.

“Go wash up, we’ll wait for you,” you had never seen Chisaki Kai without his mask, let alone heard his voice so clear. The angelic lilt rivaled expert fingers rimming crystal glasses, hypnotizing you to do as he said without so much as a fight. Entering your room, you immediately discard your dirty work clothes and shower hastily, scrubbing off flecks of dried paint and dust. In seven minutes and nineteen seconds, you’re out of your en suite bathroom and shucking on leggings and a long sleeve tee before joining everyone else at the dinner table.

To your surprise it felt quite...normal. Was this how families had dinner together? You were unsure, considering your parents had never been one to have the three of you gather together for a meal—they were always too busy working until the day they were killed nearly a decade ago.

It surprised you how natural the flow of conversation was, even with nine children ranging from ages four to seven. Even more to your shock, Dabi was more than willing to indulge the kids in their stories. But the creme de la creme was seeing maskless Overhaul smiling and laughing and attempting to get his kids to eat their vegetables. Was this the real Overhaul? Had his notoriety preceded him so greatly that you feared him for no reason at all? Your intuition tells you no and, perhaps, to some degree it’s right. There was still a dangerous air that encapsulated Chisaki Kai, but it wasn’t one that made you instantly retreat like touching a cake pan you’d recently pulled from the oven with a bare hand. If anything, it was alluring as opposed to intimidating.

The kids were so happy you finally joined them all at dinner. Rapid fire questions from any one or even two of them made you hesitate to answer but you did your best to keep your face even and amused. Children may not have been your favorite, but however the heck Overhaul was raising these ones, especially all nine of them, was truly wonderful. Throughout conversation, Shura and even shy little Eri had scrambled into your lap with each one of them taking a leg while the three of you ate. Initially, Kai had scolded them both, saying they were being rude to which you only shook your head and allowed them to stay, much to his surprise.

After dinner, the children cleared the table. Those that were able of the younger ones brought stacks of dishes to Eri and Shura whom were in the kitchen washing plates and silverware—their duties as the eldest of the nine. Dabi has pardoned himself after thanking the family for the meal to hole himself up in his office. According to the leader of the Underground, the investigative team was still working around the clock to unearth who was responsible for the fires. You had found yourself in the garden of Town Hall, tablet and digital pen in one hand with a cigarette in the other. Drawing was the only leisurely activity you indulged in when not working on rebuilding Tropium.

Typically, Dabi would join on you on these evenings with stacks of papers and a cigar between his lips as he bounced ideas off of you to figure out potential perpetrators. Needless to say, it surprised you when Overhaul enters the makeshift garden that was really just a manmade pond with lily pads and rose bushes aligning the sinkhole. “Hi,” you offer meekly, averting his gaze by keeping your own glued to your tablet screen.

“Hi,” he returns, twisting up a shapely brow at the cigarette between your index and middle finger. For a moment, he’s torn between asking what you’re working on or if you had any ideas to who burned down both of your homes or even how the rebuilding of Tropium was coming along. But he can tell by the way the filter of the cigarette squeezes between your fingers that you’re tense, that you can sense there’s a reason for his presence and decides to forego small talk. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” his voice is small and unsure and drastically different from the Overhaul you were used to. Nonetheless, his statement catches your attention and pulls it away from the screen of your tablet.

“I’m more afraid of what you can do,” you admit quietly, “I don’t want people knowing about my quirk. Dabi was the only one who knew and now your entire family knows and—“ you pause for second, hesitating on whether or not you should continue. But Overhaul was brave enough to tell you had what been bothering him, even if only a minuscule issue, you figure you owe him the same. “And I don’t want you to take it away.” The broken syllables leave your lips bare above a whisper, reaffirming at least one of the theories the doctor had about you. Of all the conspiracies, it made sense that this one was the most likely to explain your reactions to his presence, no matter how much he had hoped it to be some strange, magnetic attraction.

You had bought into the whispers of the Underground that said Chisaki Kai’s life mission was to overhaul the population and remove quirks.

Dejection fills his chest as he lets out a sigh. Maybe this was being too honest, his inner voice argues as it debates on his next words cautiously, but he feels the need to burn clean. “[ name ], what do you know about me?”

“That you were a Yakuza leader and you think quirks are a plague that need to be eradicated.” Overhaul closes his eyes languidly, peeling them back open at a snail’s pace while the warm, golden orbs stare off into the never-ending tunnels of the Underground.

“I became the leader of the Shie Hassaikai when I married my wife at twenty-three and took over for her ill father. It was a quirk marriage, but a happy one, nonetheless. At twenty five, my wife had Eri and while most children’s genetic code didn’t activate the gene for a quirk until a few years later, Eri was born with her quirk activated,” you listen deeply, soaking in every word leaving Overhaul’s maskless lips. His eyes drop down to stare at his gloved hands before burying his face in them for a moment to swallow his guilt quietly. “Eri can rewind time on living things and the first person she used it on—“

“—was her mother,” your voice barely vibrated past your lips as you made the connection. Bile rose in your throat, threatening to spill the contents of your gut not out of disgust, but rather an overwhelming surge of sorrow.

“I lost my wife when I was twenty-five. The rate that she was being rewound at was too much for her body to handle and I had to overhaul my own daughter at birth just to get her quirk to deactivate so she didn’t destroy everyone she touched,” had Chisaki Kai not come to terms with the truth a long time ago, he would have shed at least a single tear recounting these memories he had buried. Either that, or almost hurled recalling the way his wife’s body had imploded until chunks of skin and muscle tissue and blood ended up spewing all over his chest and face. There was a reason he constantly wore gloves and a mask—the smell of cooking carcass and burning meat never left him and the exaggerated mask stuffed with lavender was the only scent that eased him. “I was angry at the world for a long time.”

“I am so sorry, Over—“

“Kai,” he interrupts, “or Chisaki, at the very least. I don’t go by that name anymore.” After a bout of silence, Chisaki continues further. Eri never grew up with a mother or siblings and after things had gone south on the surface, he wanted to raise Eri in a place where people didn’t know the truth about her or the mother she never had the opportunity to meet. So he fled to the Underground with Dabi; he started helping tend to the ill and taking in quirkless children who had lost their parents on the Surface to Heroes.

In a moment of vulnerability, you felt the need to offer the olive branch and share your own story with this man after he bared his soul to you. And so, you tell him about the accident. How, while in pursuit of a villain, the small mom and pop diner that your parents frequented on Friday afternoons was accidentally set on fire by Endeavor and trapped and killed of the patrons inside. You were in your first year of high school at the time—fourteen and preparing for university until you realized you would need to work full time in order to continue paying the bills until the settlement from Endeavor came. University was down the drain. It took years for the dividends to be decided and the lawyer managed to get you a considerably high amount thanks to emotional damages, but riches and wealth would never quell the resentment you held towards the then number two pro Hero for being so reckless. That was nine years ago. Somewhere along the way, you’d met Dabi and he granted you a home and space to continue to hone the craft of tattoo artistry that you had picked up from working part time in a parlor, as recompense for his father killing yours. Though, you’d left that last little tidbit out, unsure if Kai knew of Dabi’s lineage. “I’ve been in the Underground for the last three years, give or take.”

You had always been rather indifferent to the concept of heroism until that day. Even more so when you had met Dabi—a man who was wanted and was supposed to be a villain. Yet he extended warmth and welcoming to you, offering you refuge in a new city he had created for the exiled and wandering.

The grey areas only widen with this conversation with Chisaki Kai. A notorious man, an infamous man, known for causing utter chaos on the Surface both as the leader of the Shie Hassaikai and as a super villain, was sitting across from you and sharing the most intimate moments of his life.

Maybe the concept of heroism was skewed to begin with, you think to yourself as you put out the cigarette in the ashtray in front of you. Maybe Dabi and Overhaul weren’t the real villains—only designed that way because of the way some omniscient creature in the stars that you couldn’t see.

“I remember when you first opened Tropium,” Chisaki hums bemusedly, “the children said you looked like a coloring book.” The only fitting response you have is laughter. Neither of you thought laughter would be something the two of you would indulge in together. But the way your cheeks cinch together at the corner of your eyes or the tufts of air leaving your nostrils in a short snort and the somehow smooth staccato of your chuckle sounds like holiday bells after the first snowfall. It was a peace that Chisaki Kai hadn’t known for some time now. It was a peace he didn’t know he needed, and it makes him wish that his magnetic attraction theory had some truth to it. “Your secret is safe with me,” he says finally after the laughter had died off.

“Thank you, Chisaki,”

You started coming home for dinner every night, figuring the two contractors didn’t need you there to micromanage them, until you stopped dropping into the worksite all together. With a full house, Dabi was out more frequently, preferring to be in the field to investigate the fires as much as he could. This left you with Chisaki and the kids more often than not. On occasion, you would run to the local market with Eri and Shura or had even done arts and crafts with some of the younger ones. As a sort of inside joke, you had bought each of the nine coloring books.

Currently, the kids were playing volleyball in the makeshift garden while you and Chisaki supervised. It was no longer tense between the two of you, a sort of bond forming since that one night. You should have seen the inevitable question coming. Though you more so imagined it would come from Dabi in the form of some snide comment with sexual implications regarding how close you and Overhaul had become. Never did you anticipate his oldest son asking, “[ name ], are you going to be adopting us? Are you going to be our new mom?”

“I-I—“ you were a deer in headlights and the question was a freight truck gunning in at ninety. Looking over at Chisaki for help, who seemed almost unwilling or at the very least unsure on how to, you shake your head before staring back at Shura’s big blue eyes. These children had begun carving a special place in your heart due to how they came to be in Chisaki’s care, sure, but you still had your reservations about kids in general. Not that the doctor blamed you—maternal instincts didn’t necessarily apply to every female. “I-I don’t wanna take you away from daddy, he works so hard to take care of you all and he does such a good job,” for a second, Shura’s expression becomes crestfallen.

“But we all like having you around, [ name ],”

“I’m not going anywhere, buddy, I promise,” the seven-year-old boy promptly wraps his arms around your neck, squeezing tightly as if you were going to dissipate into the air in front of his very eyes. Without hesitation, you hug back briefly before telling him his siblings were waiting for him to start the next set of volleyball. “Was that okay?” You ask quietly, looking over to the doctor. From underneath his mask, you can see the twists of pain coloring the dusty gold hues of his irises and the way his jaw tenses. When he remains quiet, you anxiously reach for an e-cigarette—a fruity one that wouldn’t alert the kids or burn Chisaki’s nostrils from the scent—and pull the tip to your lips. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that to Shura, you think as you exhale a large cloud of smoke.

But Overhaul’s stomach is twisting and churning, and he crosses his legs over the knee to squeeze his legs together tightly. He’s thankful for the black cloth mask that covers majority of his facial features as he bites his lip and his nostrils flair while he tries to control his breathing. Think of anything else, his mind snarls. Think of the days in the Shie Hassaikai, think of the children, think of literally anything but the way you called him “daddy” and how the blood rushed from his brain and straight to his dick at an alarming rate. It was so innocent—there was no reason Kai should even be thinking of it in any other way—but primal instincts were taking over, twisting into a delusion in his brain into hearing you repeatedly call him daddy while he fucked you from behind.

“Can you watch the kids?” Chisaki chokes out, standing up abruptly and fleeing inside the temporary home. He doesn’t even have the chance to hear you ask if he’s alright as he’s rushing upstairs to his en suite bathroom. Entering his room, he rips off every shred of fabric covering his body before turning on the shower to the coldest temperature he could tolerate. But there wasn’t enough cold water in the Underground or gruesome thoughts of his wife’s sudden death that could stave off the erection he was currently sporting. “Fuck!” He snarls out viciously, mind running rampant with salacious daydreams. Out of sheer need, Overhaul wraps one hand around his cock, the other bracing himself on the shower wall while the cold water runs down his spine.

Chisaki Kai is livid—raging over the fact that he is reduced to such actions over a simple word that he hears multiple times on a daily basis. It wasn’t that he was abhorrent at the thought of masturbation in the slightest—he was a human with natural human needs, after all—but this desperation that filled his gut and fueled his hard on was less than desirable. But he can’t stop the aching he feels to hold onto that blip of memory of you calling him daddy. He savors it like the first bite of a meal and indulges it in the same way he’s trying to coerce his own orgasm.

Throaty groans and grumbles wrack in Overhaul’s throat as he fists his angry, weeping cock, twisting and turning it as he prays for reprieve. It’s not enough; it’s not your mouth or any other oriface he would rather be shoving into, but the friction rubbing against his veins would have to be enough. He’s far from gracious at this point. Cupping and massaging his balls with one hand while thrusting into his enclosed other at ferocious speeds was all in the name of merely getting off. “Fuck,” he hisses out once again as he feels the very start of his orgasm. As much as his natural instinct is just telling him to sit back and enjoy the ride, his common sense tells him otherwise, tells him that he’s filthy for doing this and he doesn’t deserve to indulge in these thoughts.

But he needs that extra push to satiate his natural instinct.

Succumbing to his deeper, carnal desires, his imagination wanders back to you. With golden eyes screwed shut, he pretends it’s you he thrusting into, that it’s you stringing together languid profanities between your lips; that it’s you begging for daddy to fuck you harder.

That it’s you begging daddy to fill you up and make you into a mother.

“Oh, shit,” Chisaki is gasping for breath as he cums on the shower walls—the last thought to flood his mind serving to break the dam. He licks his lips and swallows hard, his skin becoming dry despite standing in the cold shower. After his ragged, uneven breathing returns to some semblance of normal, he peels his heavy lids open and stares at the fluid coating the shower wall. For a moment, shame washes over him because he feels pathetic and small. But the moment is brief before it was replaced with a dull burn of hunger that may never be quelled.

Pathetic, Kai thinks again as he scrubs his body clean, before exiting the arctic shower. Never before had he been in such a state, even at the ripe age of thirty-two, to masturbate to the mere thought of another person. Perhaps he was that touch-starved, all things considered.

He can’t bring himself to gaze at his reflection as he gets dressed. Adorning grey joggers and a red zip up hoodie, in addition to his usual mask and gloves, he maneuvers his way back to the makeshift garden where the children are still playing with together. But rather than you sitting alone at the patio table as you were, Dabi had joined you in the seat directly across from you.

Both of you were sporting matching cigarettes in your respective hands with matching distressed looks on your faces.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” you say in an almost indifferent tone, a departure from the way Kai had heard you in his mind seconds ago. It was a sentence typically accompanied with some sass, but your eyes were devoid of emotion at the moment. Cautiously, Chisaki took a seat beside you at the patio table, propping an elbow on the armrest closest to you before resting his temple on the same closed fist he had just used to beat himself off. You pay it no mind, how close he is to you, but rather put out your cigarette on the ashtray on the table as a courtesy to him. “Dabi,” your tone is thoughtful as you say your best friend’s name, making a hand gesture that signifies him to speak.

The leader of the Underground opens the manilla folder that was harboring the photos of both of your burnt down homes as well as the two other destroyed businesses. “It’s been a challenging investigation, but after eyewitness accounts and working with local law enforcement from the Surface, I’m pretty sure my bastard brother was behind this shit,” Dabi grits out.

“Brother?” Kai asks, confirming your suspicions of him being unaware of Dabi’s genealogy and family tree. To this, the leader pulls out a mug shot of Todoroki Shouto. The face wasn’t entirely familiar to Kai, save for the small resemblances to Dabi. Same jaw shape, same blue eye with the same dead look.

“Why us?” You ask, flipping the photo over. While it had been awhile since you had resided let alone visited the Surface, you knew that there was some rumors in the air about the start of a war, but what possible reason did Todoroki have for going after the Underground when everyone kept to themselves? For Chisaki, who ran a free clinic, and his children? What about you—why go after you?

Outside of Dabi, hadn’t the Todoroki family tortured you enough?

The city leader takes a deep breath, exhaling smoke as he extinguishes the dead cigarette on the ashtray. According to the patchwork man, Todoroki had confessed that he was selected for a covert mission from the Hero Association. The primary goal was to eradicate any and all quirk wielders within the Underground so they didn’t procreate further, so no overpowered quirks would mutate in the next generation of Underground born children. Overhaul lets out a scoff at the explanation—leave it to the Heroes to act so recklessly and selfishly.

If quirk mutation was the concern, only him and Eri would have been targeted, maybe Dabi as well. Probably Dabi as well. But they burned down Tropium Tattoos, the home of you whom had the legally registered quirk Life Canvas up on the Surface. They burned down a farm whose owner had a quirk that could manipulate light and sunshine—whose farm fed the patrons of the Underground. They burned down the house of the guy who had a weird magnet quirk. It sounds more useless than he actually is—Dabi ended up capitalizing on his manipulation of magnets to create magnetic elevators up to the surface for supply runs and other necessities.

This was about population control.

It was a form of genocide that Overhaul himself was all too familiar with.

“Well that’s fucked,” you sneer, reaching for one more cigarette, “the fuck is wrong with your family, dude, and why are they all trying to kill me and my family?” Chisaki turns his head in curiosity, no longer resting on his knuckles. The only time you had brought up your family, around him at least, was when Endeavor killed your parents—

Oh.

He pretends he doesn’t feel disappointment when he realizes you weren’t implying he and the children were your family.

“Why the hell do you think I left, [ name ]?” Chisaki almost feels as if he shouldn’t be present for this conversation; like it was meant to be private between the two of you. But he can’t bring himself to leave your side, not with the way anger is crinkling in the form of crow’s feet at the corner of your eyes. Dabi excuses himself after a long bout of silence, leaving you to stew in your bitterness while Overhaul directs the kids to wash up for dinner. You don’t realize all nine of them had left the garden until the doctor is standing over you, despite the small wisps of smoke billowing from your cigarette with a hand extended towards you to pull you from the patio chair. You’re sure to extinguish the stick, knowing how the smell often offended him before taking it.

“Why don’t you go rest inside for a minute and wash up while I make dinner?” He offers quietly as he pulls you to your feet. The entire time, Chisaki maintains eye contact, his golden orbs unwilling to break their trance with your form. But thanks to the distress and the rapid pace that your brain is moving, you aren’t even aware of your surroundings or the way Chisaki is just standing in front of you until you’re running into his broad chest. Instinctually, you recoil away from him. Not out of disgust or fear like before, but rather respect, knowing how he is about touch and physical contact.

“Sorry—“ his arms are nestling at your waist to keep you in close proximity and you’re suddenly reminded of the time your legs fell asleep at the orphanage and you had stumbled trying to walk. Chisaki had been there then too, holding you steady much like he was now. There was something drastically different to the scenario now compared to back then. The doctor didn’t shy away from the contact anymore, didn’t draw his hands back like he touched a freshly stoked lump of coal or break out into itchy hives. If anything, his gloved hands lingered just a little bit longer—too long even for Chisaki—before gingerly patting your head and retreating inside the home.

And maybe if you weren’t trying to process the fact that the Surface was attempting to start a war with the Underground, you would have dwelled more on the warmth and security coming from Kai. The poise he held coupled with the fire and desire in his eye would have been enough to reassure that everything was going to be alright.

Dabi never came back that night. Rather than leaving his head seat at the dining table empty, Chisaki sat to your left with his daughter filling his space temporarily. You sat directly across from Eri, the girl who was once too timid to thank you now smiled brightly every time you looked at her. Other than your best friend’s absence, dinner was relatively average. Conversation went on as normal, sharing laughter and smiles between all of you—it was a nice delusion that for a moment, you were all a complete family and you weren’t so enrapt with the heartbreak of knowing these ten humans were targets to the surface.

The children cleared the table as they always did, but rather than having the two oldest do the dishes, you offered to clean up instead. “Why don’t you kids gather up in the living room and have daddy put on a movie for you?” Clearly excited from the reprieve of duty, the orphans all head off, touting something along the lines of Frozen versus Tangled. But your back is already turned away from the family, getting started on putting away leftovers and scraping away scraps on plates and entirely missing the way Kai’s eyes drain from gold to a murky mustard. It misses the way his jaw clenches tightly as he settles the debate for his children, turning on Tangled—the clearly more superior film—before he returns to the kitchen.

The sleeves of your ragline tee are pushed above your elbows as you hum an unknown hymn, unaware of Kai stepping cautiously toward you. Despite having just eaten, the doctor is filled with a renewed hunger entirely as his grip finds limp purchase on your hips much like they had before dinner. “You know, I think we need to have a talk about you calling me ‘daddy’ in front of the children,” he murmurs hotly against the shell of your ear, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. Your blood is torn between running cold from the predatory drawl in his words and boiling from the sudden close contact.

“I-I’m sorry, should I stop?” Kai licks his lips before running his teeth behind your ear and down your neck, suckling on the flesh as he mumbles a response.

“Do you want to?” You contemplate his question in full, though it proves to be a challenge with the way he’s pressing warm, open mouth kisses to your neck and shoulder and the way his hands are kneading at your hips. “Are you afraid of me, sweetheart?” He asks again, his voice a low grumble yet somehow is louder than thunder as it isn’t hidden behind a mask. Had this been months ago when he had asked you an identical question when you were perusing the reconstruction of the orphanage, you would have said yes again. But this wasn’t fear—fear wasn’t a word you associated with Chisaki Kai anymore.

Warmth. Strength. Dedication. Resolve.

Love.

Those were the words you associated with him now.

“No,” you finally respond, shutting off the water before turning to face him. It was a rare, momentous occasion when you got to gaze upon his bare face outside of having meals together. His golden eyes swirl with elation, even more so as your painted fingers brush stray locks that fallen just over his brows. Despite a rather simple appearance, especially in comparison to yours, there’s something elegantly charming about Chisaki Kai that had never gotten the full appreciation he deserved.

Tentatively, you nudge him closer to you from the back of his neck until your lips are pressed against his. For you, it’s an experiment just to feel him in such a manner. For Kai, it’s torture in every sense of the word because it’s a tease after all of the salacious thoughts that have marred his imagination. Taking a leap of faith, his arms tighten around your waist, pulling your body flush against his because right now there isn’t enough contact in the world that would satisfy him.

The once delicate, experimental kiss becomes hungrier at his hand as he’s exploring your mouth with tongue, groaning as he does so. The scent of smoke and fresh cotton wafts into his nostrils between his sharp intakes of breath as he refuses to break contact. It’s as if he’s trying to commit the moment to memory, to burn it into his brain.

As if this was never going to happen ever again.

“Kai,” you whimper out his name, his true name, between pants of breathlessness for the first time. Just as gingerly as before, your fingers are cradling the man before you by the temples. You’re gazing at him fully, unabashedly, as you run a thumb just below his distinct lower lashes. Chisaki’s head dips a bit further into your brief touch before you skip away from him.

“Wait, where do you think you’re going?”

“Come on, let’s go watch the movie with the kids,” you chime, holding a hand out to him as if he didn’t just have you all but pinned to the kitchen sink.

“I was serious when I said we needed to have a talk.” Despite his verbal protest, he takes your hand in his, trailing behind as you saunter off towards the living room where the children are fully invested in the film. Plopping down on an empty space on the couch, you bring Kai with you until he’s nearly resting on top of you. For a moment, he releases your hand, opting to wrap an arm around you to pull you closer. “Back to avoiding me, angel?” The doctor grumbles into your ear, low enough so as not to alert the little ones.

“Figured it would be better to not risk being interrupted,” you whisper back, smirk twisting your lips. Chisaki’s licks his own dry plains, tugging you even closer so that you’re sitting on one of his thighs instead. That predatory miasma that surrounds him on a day to day basis is seeping out of him tenfold, but intimidation when it came to Kai was now a foreign concept to you. It brought back that same seductively dangerous feeling you’d felt the first time you had dinner with the family or, thinking back further, to when you went to scope out the renovations. A part of you wonders if that fear you once had was displaced as soon as you knew he was going to keep your quirk a secret. Displaced with an attraction to him that was easily confused with fear.

A part of you wonders if you ever really did fear him at all.

Maybe you didn’t.

Your mindless thoughts wander to anything other than the screen, casually leaning back so that your head settled on Kai’s clavicle. The doctor looks down at you with a curiosity that is replaced with a warmth that temporarily quelled his lust. As much as he had been fighting his day dreams of fucking you, having you in his arms surrounded by his kids stoked a different fire inside him.

He didn’t want this domestic moment to end.

He hopes that desire translates into the simple gesture of his lips pressing into your hair.

Chisaki Kai was finally caving into his wants and being honest with himself. He doesn’t want this makeshift family to go back to normal when you finally returned to Tropium or when his family returns to the Underground clinic. There isn’t a single cell in his body that believes having you in his lap and curled into his chest feels anything other than right. He’s overwhelmed with the idea, the fantasy, of you moving in and being with the family. Your family—in the collective sense—with Kai by your side with your nine orphans.

During the lantern scene of the film, he presses another kiss where the roots of your hair meet your forehead, lips lingering a little longer than normal. In response, you look up at him curiously to find his muted golden eyes staring right at you. There was a plethora of different things that Chisaki wanted to say to you, especially with the way you look so heavenly in his arms. But he settles with the murmur of, “I don’t want things to go back to normal.”

“Neither do I,” you whisper, gracefully accepting the way Kai’s lips mould over yours almost lovingly. In a sense, it’s your way of finally admitting to yourself the feelings that worked and wriggled their way into your chest. The thought of returning to your lonely little two-bedroom apartment by yourself just seemed daunting now, despite the initial rush to get to work on the remodel. No more waking up to bright eyes at the table for breakfast or coloring with the kids; no more having Kai cook a delectable meal or having him accompany you in the garden for a smoke. It broke your heart just thinking about all you would be missing out on when life returned to somewhat normal, war aside.

The doctor sucks gingerly on your lower lip, nipping slightly with his canines as his tongue wholeheartedly dances with yours. The kiss is full of longing and desire and it made his brain go fuzzy with strange thoughts. A part of him can’t remember ever feeling this recurring surge of wanton lust and infatuation when Kai would kiss his wife and, in regular circumstances, he would have felt guilt over it. But this warm, wet entanglement of your tongues is more loving than he was accustomed to and it excited him. Than you were even accustomed to.

“So stay with me, sweetheart,” the nickname he’s given you sounds almost patronizing. But the admiration that seems to be laced in with it sends a shiver down your spine and leaves the hairs on your arms standing at full attention as the film comes to an end. “Time for bed, children. We’ll be by in a little bit to check on you,” Chisaki calls out to his protesting kids, though making no motion to move from his planted position on the sofa. When he’s certain that all nine of them are out of earshot, he adjusts you in his lap so that both of your legs are draped over his thighs. You call out his name, pulling him from his thoughts that take him far away from the present.

“You said you wanted to talk,” you remind him. A part of you is afraid to start conversation because you aren’t sure what direction he wants to take this. Chisaki could have an entirely different meaning of returning to normal than you, but for you...

You didn’t want to wake up every morning without him being nearby. In the rawest form, that was the only way you could piece it together into a coherent thought. But even more than that, you felt as if there was so much more you wanted to see from Chisaki Kai. He was becoming more open with touch, no longer breaking out into hives when he touched others and even going so far as to hold you, albeit very languidly as he was now. Another part of you wanted to know if he would be beside you when it came to the impending war with the Surface.

Mostly, you just wanted to know if he wanted to be by your side too, even if logic wanted to tell you this was a bad idea.

“Will you stay? With me?” Kai implores quietly. His eyes are locked with yours, the gold shining brighter than ever.

“You say this after I renovate our homes?” A short, lighthearted scoff leaves his lung in lieu of laughter at your attempt of a joke. Because, despite him echoing your own deeper, innermost thoughts, a part of you refused to believe this was reality. As if reality was actually playing a prank on you.

Of course he had thought of that little fact. It was the longing desire he felt in his bones to have your presence that he hadn’t taken into account, but that need burning at the pit of his stomach had outweighed any semblance of logic that urged him to keep his thoughts to himself.

“The kids will grow up eventually and need their own space away from the orphanage. We could always save it for them.”

Answers you were expecting from Chisaki Kai: not that.

Had he invested that much into the idea? To the point where he planned on you still being a part of the orphan’s lives until they were adults?

“‘We’?” You ask. “And what if “we” don’t work, have you considered that?”

“No,” Kai’s voice is clear and calm as ever, exuding the very confidence that once made you tremble, “I want you in every sense of the word. I’ve already said my vows and had my shot at forever. I want that sort of permanence with you and I know that some part of you wants me too.” At a loss for words, you opt to brush the backs of your nails along his cheeks endearingly, trailing them down until your hands find purchase around his neck to bring him close enough that you can feel his lashes tickle your cheekbones. The silence between the two of you was deafening and damning, yet welcoming as it’s broken with him pressing his lips fully against yours.

For a moment, it feels as if the hunger stirring within his gut is satiated—satisfied with the even the tender, loving gesture of pulling you closer still until you’re straddling his lap. As if you were trying to fuse your bodies together because there was no such thing as too much physical contact right now. Kai encircles your waist with his arms, hoisting you up as he motions to stand and causing you to wrap your legs around his midsection. You don’t ask where you’re going; partially because your tongue is too busy just indulging in a private dance with his, partially because it doesn’t matter where he takes you. You’d go with him anywhere, no questions asked.

It’s a challenge and a half maneuvering up the stairs with you anchored around him so tightly—even more so that with every step he took ended up grinding your pelvis along his ever-growing erection. Kai felt liberated this time around, shamelessly rubbing against you this time rather than scurrying off for a cold shower and a five-minute session with his hand. Your eyes open as he unceremoniously tosses you onto the plush blanket of your borrowed bed. Immediately, you’re greeted with the sight of Chisaki Kai hastily shredding off his tee shirt and lounge pants, leaving the doctor in strained boxer briefs.

Briefly, you’re blown away by the sheer beauty of him—like a statue of Adonis come to fruition before your eyes. Even with the uncomfortable twinge in his golden orbs from your unnerving gaze. It was different, to say the least, to have you gawking at him with such adoration when he felt he was the only one doing so. “C’mere,” your voice comes out as a near broken whimper, a call to which Kai heeds graciously. The bed dips as he kneels at the edge, crawling closer until he’s hovering above you. Gingerly, your fingers trace over the smooth skin of his cheeks, tracing down his lips and neck until they ghost over his collarbones.

“Sweetheart,” Kai groans out, snatching your hand in his as it continues to trail further down his bare skin. “As much as I want to bask in the romance of all of this, you called me ‘daddy’ earlier, and I think it’s time you suffer the consequences.”

“Yeah?” You sneer sardonically, pushing into your elbows until you’re both touching nose to nose. “Like it when I call you that?” His breath is hot as it fans over your features, the wanton lust tangled within the golden hues of his irises becoming overwhelmed with feral desire. Kai’s hand that isn’t supporting him over you grips tightly at your baggy tee, pulling harshly to tear at the fabric keeping your bare body from him. For a moment, his breath becomes caged in his chest upon seeing your semi-nude form for the first time. But the moment is flitting as he’s reminded of his aching, hard cock twitching underneath his undergarments.

“Hands and knees, baby,” the slow, torturous movement you give in reply grates at Kai’s nerves, prompting a resounding smack to the ass of your joggers the moment your bottom is visible to him. “Daddy’s already impatient, dear,”

“And what’s Daddy going to do about that?”

Similar to the treatment he gave your shirt earlier, Kai dug his fingers into the waistband of your joggers. Though he did not have nearly as much luck tearing off the thicker material, the gruff motion is enough to expose you, leaving your bare, pulsing core in plain sight while the cloth gathered at your knees. His chest presses against your back, his skin searing hotter than hellfire, as he places languid kisses along your shoulder. “I promise, I’ll spoil you with attention later. But right now, I need you,” his voice is something reminiscent of begging, only amplified by his suddenly bare cock dancing along your slit and smearing pre-cum along it before cautiously slipping the head in.

Throaty groans leave both of your lungs simultaneously. Kai swears up and down that this was heaven manifested into reality. Part of him thinks this is all a dream, the way your walls are squeezing him to tightly as he pushes in centimeter by centimeter. “K-Kai,” you whimper. The calling of his name awakens something gutturally primal within him.

“Uh uh,” the doctor tuts, ceasing his movements. “What’s my name, baby?” In lieu of a response, only pants of shortened breath escape your slackened jaw. There was no way Chisaki Kai was human, you decided. Not with the way his words sent every cell in your body into overdrive or the way his fat girth stretched you so deliciously without even entirely plunging his engorged cock. Not with how, despite his notoriety once proceeding him, he was often blatantly honest with you and certainly not with how utterly enamored he was with you and vice versa. “Say my name, baby, and I’ll give you a reward,”

“D-daddy, please,” you whisper in between breaths. Abiding by his word, Kai works his thick length into you, albeit still slowly, until your bones presses into his pubis and his whole cock carefully bottoms out inside you. His right hand trails up your tummy and dances along the skin of your sternum until his fingers encase your throat gingerly. Keeping still within you, the doctor tugs at your throat until you’re only resting on your spread knees as his lips ghost along the outer shell of your ear while he gives slow, deep, steady thrusts.

“You like having daddy’s fat fucking cock in you, angel? Feel so fucking good around me, yes you do,”

A real poet, Kai was.

Turning your head to face him, your fingers lace themselves in his messy locks and pull his lips to yours in a kiss that is entirely devoid of lust. He can bring the heat all he wants—it was your mission to make sure he understood that you wanted him in more than just sex. Even if the slow torturous withdrawing of his cock was absolutely divine.

And he felt it too. Even with his hand delicately cupping your throat or the way his pelvis greets your plump ass with every thrust or the way your wet walls clench on him as if trying to expel his cock from inside of you. Kai can feel it in the way your nails are digging into the flesh of his arms or in the tufts of breath that leaves your nostrils because he leaves you absolutely breathless. He feels the love, and he wants to bask in it.

Now that he’d quelled his hunger slightly, Chisaki pulls away from your endearing lip lock while simultaneously withdrawing his length from you. A small whimper leaves your lips at the loss before Kai turns you over, pressing your back against the mattress and sliding home once again. The passion and intimacy he feels is overwhelming, boiling his skin through every pore as he bears weight on one arm while the other caresses your cheek. “I meant it, you know,” the murmur dances like air along your own lips, warm breath inviting. “I want you in every possible way. I want to wake up next to you in the morning, experience every season that doesn’t pass for us in the Underground with you.”

“Kai...” in return, you seal you mouth along his, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer and coaxing him to move. Slow and steady, he withdraws himself from within you before snapping his hips once again until he’s fully sheathed. Each thrust feels like thunder. “M-more,” you choke out, breaking apart your kiss momentarily to beg. His focus shifts down to where you’re connected—where each vein of his throbbing erection greets and becomes acclimated for every crevice within your cavern. Angling his hips along with your own with the assistance of his hand, he manages to welcome that spongy weakness that makes your knees buckle and regurgitate a scream in response.

“Right there, princess?”

“P-please!” The hand under the small of your back moves to hook around your knee, it’s twin mimicking the gesture and leaving you entirely at the mercy of Overhaul whose mission at the moment is to rearrange your insides in an entirely different sense. Pinning your knees to the bed, Kai is at the perfect angle to ram into your g-spot over and over at a rapid, even pace until you’re clenching around him deliciously, silently coercing his orgasm. “Oh my fucking god,”

“Mm, you’re so tight, baby. Ya gonna cum? Gonna cum nice and hard for me? Cum for daddy,” his words are almost enough—almost. And it was as if he knew the filthy, slopping sound of his cock reaming you wasn’t enough. Though whether enough for you or him remained a mystery, his thrusts are becoming erratic as he’s panting and grunting an unabashedly as he chases his release and oxygen. “I love you,” Kai’s voice is broken, “love you so much, just wanna fill you up over and over until your body only knows the taste of me.” And you aren’t sure if it’s his nasty, vile words or the way he is utterly knocking away at your g-spot that is causing you to convulse around him—that brings you over the final hurdle and over the dam. Screams rip past your lungs as your back arches as much as it can from it’s confines while your fingers twitch out of necessity to grip something—anything.

You’re granted no reprieve in that regard, but it matters not with the way Kai is still smacking his hips into yours, dragging out your orgasm even longer while in pursuit for his own. There is no amount of physical contact in this moment that is enough for him, even as he slats his lips over yours and slides his tongue inside your mouth to greet yours. Hips beginning to stutter, Kai is fighting every fiber in his soul—torn between the dichotomy of wanting to cum and stave off his orgasm because he wants to feel the welcoming, convulsing walls of your pussy forever. And though you’d already came at least once, the pressure was building again rapidly from the stimulation of the uneven rhythm of Kai’s hips. Part of you is thankful his tongue is hungrily dancing with yours to keep your screams muted so as not to wake the children down the hall. But the rumbling in his chest from his own throaty groans become overwhelming, forcing him to break away to and let his grunts and slew of curses fly from his mouth freely.

“I love you, Kai,” the moans are just as bad coming from you, but those four words coming from your lips are what do the aforementioned man in. And he can tell there is no lie dripping from a silver tongue here—you mean every ounce of these four little words. For everything that is Chisaki Kai—the former Yakuza leader, the former villain, the doctor, the father—you loved the man before you.

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he wails, the rhythm of his cock head tamping against your womb matching the pacing of his broken speech, “daddy’s gonna cum so fucking deep in you, gonna make you mine forever, angel.” Another hissed out string of profanities pass through as his dick twitches almost violently, shooting out ropes of seed and painting your walls white. You can tell he meant what he said, even in his lustful spew, by the way he leaves his softening erection inside of your spasming cunt and sealing his emission inside until he was almost certain his claim held permanence.

“I meant it too,” you mumble into Kai’s sweaty neck as he collapses on top of you. Though he’s boneless at the moment, having spent all of his energy, you feel the breath of his questioning grunt beside your ear before his face is attempting to look at you while half buried in your pillow. Gingerly, he removes his now flaccid member from you, adjusting himself so that his form molds around you and wraps his arm securely around your stomach.

“You know,” Kai starts off slowly. The rich timber of his voice is thick with exhaust but is warm and welcoming all the same. “I was jealous before.”

“Jealous? Of what?”

“My children love you—a woman who was nothing but a stranger who doesn’t even like kids. They warmed up to you so easily, much easier than they did with me,” there’s a brief pause between his statements, causing you to adjust under his grasp until you’re touching nose to nose with the doctor. His eyes are closed for a moment, his long and feathery lashes greeting the tops of his delicate cheekbones. “So I tried to understand. Tried to figure just why they gravitated towards you.”

“And what did you find?” Peeling back his eyelids, Kai’s rich amber eyes bore into your own. Irises swirling with admiration before the view is flooded with a sudden closeness and the press of his plush lips against yours in the most loving fashion.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how to answer.

He had found determination and independence, qualities of a strong woman that his daughters looked up to. Free and proud and brave, he thinks, are the reasons his sons admired you. But there’s something more. There’s a love and warmth that you bring to the family, yet a sternness that doesn’t allow them to run rampant (not that they would under Overhaul’s upbringings) that spoke so motherly to each of his nine children. And somewhere along the way for the last six months that the Clinic had been under remodel, Kai found himself gravitating to all of those exact qualities in you, the envy transforming into an admiration of his own. It was an error in his initial magnetic attraction conspiracy theory; he thought that your fear had changed to attraction when it was his all along.

But Kai’s not always the greatest with words, and the thought of spilling his deepest thoughts of you seems a daunting task that he’d rather replace with kissing you instead. Considering you asked a question, however, he did feel the need to respond with something—anything.

“I found you.”

“Honey, I can still help, you know,” you whine for the umpteenth time, folding your arms over your chest as you stand in the mayoral office of Dabi with your partner. It’s been a year since Todoroki Shouto had burned down Tropium Tattoos and the Underground Clinic and tonight was finally the night that the Underground had planned on mobilizing their forces. It had taken a full year of investigating, planning, building alliances with those on the Surface, and patience for the citizens to finally strike back.

Enough was enough.

All of you had been exiled at one point or another, but now the Surface was trying to exterminate all of you.

“Angel, no,” Kai chides sternly, igniting the twitch on the leader’s face. Granted it had been six months since you and Kai had first declared this little relationship of yours and, as your best friend, Dabi was still slightly hesitant on the idea. Not that his opinion had much weight considering—

“Kai, I am only three months along. I can still fight!”

“Hell no,”

“Absolutely not,” both men snark simultaneously. Best friend or not, personal opinion aside, there was no way in the ninth circle of hell that Dabi was going to let you go to war while you were pregnant. And with Kai being the father, the chances of you getting your way in this moment with him were even slimmer. The doctor pinches the bridge of his nose underneath his black cloth mask with his thumb and middle finger before letting out an annoyed rift of air. “Dabi, I’m gonna take [ name ] home before we go over invasion plans. Do you mind?”

“Nah,” the leader waves his purple and nude hands in dismissal, “besides, we should wait for Hawks to get here before we start all that.” With that, Kai grabs your wrist with his gloved hand and drags you away from the office. He knows you want to fight, and he knows you want to protect your family—all eleven with himself and the embryo included. But as a father with another—biological—one on the way, Chisaki Kai just can’t bring himself to allow you to put yourself in harm’s way.

“Sweetheart,” he calls out, stopping just outside of the currently closed Tropium. The grey and white building looked crisp and clean and everything you wanted it to be but you often found yourself closing up shop early and coming in late to spend more time with your nine children at home. At the very least, you were grateful that your parlor was only a block or two away from the clinic. “I need you here where you can keep our children safe in case anyone slips through the cracks.” Even with his mask on, you can tell that Kai is trembling ever so slightly. The thought of someone making their way into his home and hurting his kids, hurting you, was enough to unleash the beast within.

“I know,” you respond quietly. Using his grip on you to your advantage, you pull the doctor towards you until he’s towering over you and looking down directly into your eyes. “But you know me, always ready to jump headfirst into the fire,” his amber eyes soften, thinking back to a year ago when you had saved Eri from the burning clinic. To think that a year later, you would be living with him and carrying his child and occupying nearly every cell in his brain.

“It’s your turn to watch the kids,” he jokes pulling down his mask below his chin to slat his lips over yours lovingly. It’s only half a joke—he knows better than anyone you would do anything to protect them. He’s known that since day one.

“You better come back to us,” your demand is quiet and breathless and laced more with concern than it is with threat. The thought of Kai dying while on the Surface has plagued you for the last six months, even more so when you found out you were pregnant. He knew it too, knew how much worry and panic had disturbed your sleep when the realization that war was an option had settled in. Despite the knowledge that he carried about different afflictions and ailments; Kai had been at a loss for how to quell your anxiety. He hopes that circumstances aside, him reaching into the right-side pocket of his heavy, army green coat and pulling out the small black velvet box is the correct move. Gingerly holding up said box until it’s in your line of sight, he takes a step back before peeling back the lid to showcase a single, solitaire diamond set in a simple gold band.

“I promise you I will come back. And when this is all over, we can finally enjoy our life in peace, so long as you’ll have me.”

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