Dispatch request! Flambae getting flustered over oblivious masc!Reader and everyone in the team is making fun of it!
Stupid, Hot Idiot…
👽: god he’s so cuntyyyy. here you go :3 I made you a dispatcher because it just kinda felt rightttt💞
🖇️: Flambae x masc!Reader
☑️: Proof Read
⚠️: SFW/repressed emotions/clueless crush/he totally “hates” you/romantic tension disguised as hatred/ego bruising?/probably second hand embarrassment/but it’s COOL ITS CUTE!! Nice little ending. I think. RAHHH.
Break Room//Tuesday, 11:47 AM
★ The coffee machine is gurgling like it’s dying. Again. “Man, think this things on its last leg…” You mumble. Flambae doesn’t look up when you speak—just keeps scrolling through his phone with that expression he always wears. The one that says I’m better than this place, better than this job, better than you.
★ “Morning,” you say, because you always do.
★ His jaw tightens. “It’s almost noon.”
★ “Fair point.” You grab a mug from the cabinet, the one with the faded SDN logo. “Coffee?”
★ “Do I look like I need your charity?”
★ You blink. Glance at the empty cup in front of him. “I mean, I was making some anyway, so—”
★ “I don’t want your fucking coffee.”
★ “Cool, cool.” You pour yourself a cup. Steam curls between you. Then—because the silence feels too sharp—you pour a second mug and slide it across the counter toward him. “Just in case you change your mind.” He stares at the mug like it personally offended him.
★ From the doorway, Sonars voice cuts in, smooth and amused. “Wow. Riveting. Is this what foreplay looks like now?”
★ You nearly choke on your coffee.
★ Flambae’s hand ignites, just a flicker of flame licking across his knuckles before he snuffs it out. “Shut the fuck up, Sonar.”
★ “Touchy.” Sonar grins, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “You know, most people just say ‘thanks.’”
★ “Most people aren’t insufferable.”
★ “And yet,” Sonar says, eyes flicking meaningfully between you and Flambae, “here we are.”
★ You’re not sure what he means by that. You sip your coffee. It tastes like burnt rubber and regret, which is to say—normal. Flambae grabs the mug you poured for him and storms out. Sonar watches him go, then looks at you. “You’re killing him, you know.”
★ “Huh?”
★ “Nothing. Forget it.” He’s laughing as he leaves. You finish your coffee alone, wondering if maybe you should’ve used the good creamer.
•••
Report Massacre//Wednesday, 12:15 PM
★ You find your incident report on your desk. Shredded.
★ Not just torn—shredded. Confetti style. Cute. Someone took time with this. Artistic, almost. Flambae’s watching from across the room, arms crossed, chin up. Waiting.
★ You blink at the paper snow. “Oh man.”
★ “Yeah. Oh man.” His voice drips satisfaction.
★ “I must’ve printed the wrong draft.” You’re already pulling up the file on your computer. “Good catch. The final version had way better formatting anyway.”
★ Silence.
★ “You—” Flambae’s walking toward you now, and there’s something dangerous in the way he moves. All leashed energy and sharp fucking edges. “You think I did you a favor?”
★ “I mean, kinda?” You hit print. “I was gonna reprint it anyway. Saved me the trouble of recycling.” His hands flex. Smoke curls from his palms—thin, gray, the color of a promise about to break.
★ “You’re fucking with me.”
★ “What? No.” You look up, genuinely concerned. “Are you okay? You seem, like, really tense lately.”
★ Flambae stares at you. Through you. Past you into some dimension where things make sense and people react like they’re supposed to. Then he turns. Walks away. A trash can bursts into flame as he passes. You grab the extinguisher before Herm gets involved. “I got it!”
★ Visi leans over to Robert, who were both passing by. “This is the best thing I’ve ever witnessed.”
★ “He’s going to actually explode,” Robert whispers back.
★ “I know.” She snorts.
•••
Error that probably didn’t need correcting in the first place//Friday, 9:03 AM
★ Finding an error in the system logs before the morning briefing—you saw it had Flambae’s response time wrong on yesterday’s warehouse call. Made him look slower than he was. You knew for a fact it was incorrect. It’s a small thing. Probably just a typo. Not a big deal what so ever…would be pointless to even bother. A whole thing…
★ You fix it anyway. With permission (not from Flambae.) with a process, taking accountability for the error, proving the mistake, and just like that? Its correct. Good. By lunch, Flambae corners you in the hallway on the trip to the break room. It’s not a coincidence—he’s waiting there, arms crossed, expression thunderous. Stopping you in your tracks.
★ “Did you fucking edit my stats?”
★ “Uh.” You’re holding a sandwich. It feels inadequate as a shield. “Yeah? Well—within protocol of course. There was a timestamp error, so I just—”
★ “I don’t need you covering for me.”
★ “I wasn’t covering. I was correcting.” You say honestly.
★ “Same thing.” He glares.
★ “It’s really not.”
★ His jaw works. The air between you feels hot—like standing too close to a space heater, or something. Like it might explode if you say the wrong thing.
★ “Why do you even care?” he asks, and the question sounds like an accusation. You blink. “Because…. it’s my job?”
★ “That’s not—” He cuts himself off. Drags a hand over his face. “You’re actually exhausting.”
★ “Sorry?”
★ “Don’t apologize. Jesus fucking Christ.” He pushes past you, shoulder brushing yours, and you catch that smell again—smoke and something warmer, something that lingers even after he’s gone. You like it. The scent. It’s nice. You eat your sandwich standing there. It’s quiet. And you wonder if maybe you should’ve just left the error alone.
•••
Break Room (again lol)//Monday, 12:04 PM
★ You’re not there. Which is the only reason they’re talking. Flambae’s reheating last night’s Chinese food in the microwave when Mandy walks in, spots him, and grins.
★ “Oh good. You’re alone.”
★ “Don’t even.”
★ “So when are you gonna ask ‘em out?” Visi’s oice comes from nowhere just as she appears—she’s sitting in a chair at the table. The microwave beeps. Flambae doesn’t move. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
★ “Right.” Sonar leans in from the hall. “And I don’t prefer boobies over ass. Guess we’re both liars.” He enters, leans against the wall.
★ “I’m not—” Flambae attempts…
★ “Ha.” Prism walks in past Sonar, leaning against the counter where the coffee machine was. “You’re not subtle. Like, at all.”
★ “I’m going to incinerate all of you.”
★ “See?” Mandy points at him triumphantly. “Classic misdirection. He’s blushing.”
★ “I don’t fucking blush—”
★ “You do though,” Visi says, “It’s cute. In a homicidal kinda way.”
★ Flambae grabs his food from the microwave. It’s too hot. He doesn’t care. “I hate every single person in this building.”
★ “Except one,” Sonar singsongs.
★ “Especially that one.” Visi adds.
★ “Uh-huh.” Prism hums along “That’s why you fixed the coffee machine last week after he mentioned it was broken.”
★ “That wasn’t—”
★ “Or why you always try extra hard when they’re on shift and giving orders.” Mandy adds. “Never do that for Robert.”
★ “Or why—”
★ “Okay!” Flambae slams his container down. A small flame flickers to life on the counter—he puts it out with his palm. “You know what? You’re all fucking stupid, holy shit. And wrong—Jesus Christ.”
★ The room erupts in laughter. Flambae storms out, ears burning, microwave food abandoned. And of course you’re in the hallway. Of course you are. You’re juggling a tablet, two file folders, and a coffee that’s definitely not yours based on the lipstick stain on the lid.
★ “Oh hey—” You spot him, and your face does that thing. That open, genuine, stupid thing that makes his chest feel like it’s full of hornets. “There you are. I was gonna find you after—”
★ “What.” It comes out harsh. Sharper than he means.
★ You don’t even flinch. “I just wanted to say you really killed it today. That highway pileup? Your response time was insane. Probably saved like, a dozen people.”
★ The words hit him like friendly fire.
★ “And also—” You shift the folders, nearly drop one. He catches it reflexively, and your fingers brush. “—you seem stressed lately. I dunno if it’s the schedule or whatever, but… want to grab a drink after shift? There’s this new bar I’ve been passing on the way here daily, heard they got reallly good wings.”
★ His brain snuffs out.
★ “Fuck no.”
★ Your expression doesn’t change. Still open. Still stupidly kind. Damn it why were you so fucking…you? Ughhh. He hears himself before he can stop it, “Wait. Are you like…buying at least?”
★ “Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” You shrug. He considers this.
★ “…I guess.” he mutters, and your smile is—he doesn’t have words for it. “Cool. I’m off at seven. I’ll text you the spot. Meet you there?”
★ “Fine. Whatever.”
★ Without thinking, you hand him the folder he caught, fingers brushing again. And then you’re walking away, heart doing little flips while whistling something off key. Flambae stands in the hallway for a full thirty seconds, (you gotta cute ass…damn.) holding a folder he doesn’t need. From the break room, muffled laughter. He’s going to burn this whole building down.
★ But first—Seven o’clock. Fuck.
👽: The wings were actually pretty good. Chad ordered the spicy ones. You act surprised when he finishes them without flinching. He calls you an idiot. You buy him another beer. By the time you leave, his shoulder keeps bumping yours on the walk back, and neither of you mention it.
a/n: so idk why im hyperfocused on this character rn, haven’t watch the movies in years and yet i just wanna write for him now 😪honestly idk what this even is, don’t read if you don’t like as always
cw: freak shit, biting (obvi), dog references (idk how i ended up here but it fit), teasing, suggestive (SFW).
loves you to all hell, especially because of your quirks.
when he first noticed your little pattern of biting him (or random things), he found it so cute, cause he knew you didn’t do it out of harm, but love, you never bit him hard enough to make it hurt, even if he personally hoped you would sometimes. (freak)
one time before you two got together, he used his hook to tilt your chin up teasing you about something, honestly he doesn’t even remember what it was about anymore because all he really remembers was how you bit down on the curve of his hook like a wild dog tugging on its toy while glaring at him, he froze in awe, knowing he’d like you way more than expected.
you always having small indents on your fingers cuz you keep chewing on your knuckles whenever deep in thought.
you biting onto his bicep whenever you’re cuddling, making him giggle when you do so.
after some time, your little habit starts to rub off on him as well, and he starts giving you some love bites whenever the opportunity presents itself to him.
you always remember to kiss the bite marks whenever you’re done, which makes him extremely giddy. (my guy gets cuteness aggressions so bad)
he wears your bite marks out with pride, always smirking like he’s the hot shit whenever people stare at the several bite marks or hickeys all i’ve his neck, shoulders, and arms.
him randomly just giving you his hand when he sees that you’re stressed so that you can nibble on his fingers a bit. (knowing how sore your own hands get from constantly gnawing on them yourself)
LOVES it when you bite his lip when making out, kissing almost becomes like a dog fight with you two, not in the nasty gory way, but in the way poems goes on about love.
if you were to get hurt really bad (whether it be from a sword fight or simply a nasty fall causing your joint to pop), he’d let you cling onto him and bite into his shoulder as your injury were to be fixed, one time while pushing your knee (or something) back into place, you bit him so hard from the pain that he started to bleed, which made you panic of course, but he only comforted you saying it’s okay, all the while he secretly found it super attractive but wouldn’t admit it in that moment.
if he ever heard someone talk badly about your habit he would kind of lose it, in a quiet smiling way, like some random guy would judge you behind your back and comment that you “should be put in a muzzle” to “fix their problem” and “what are they? a fucking dog?”, Harry would just tightly smile at them as he’d talk in a low quiet tone, “maybe it’s ye i should throw in the dog cages, let them strey hounds have their slop early huh?” he’d put his hook onto their shoulder and lean closely to their ear “talk like that and you’ll lose yer tongue around here..” he’d just glare coldly, freaking out the guy enough for them to blabber out all the apologies as they ran.
so yeah, i guess you could say that he’s protective of you and all your little quirks no matter how strange they might be, because he loves you so much, just the way you are.
Werewolf!Boyfriend who wants to stay secure in your arms while he transforms under the full moon instead of being alone like always but he's scared he'll hurt you.
Werewolf!Boyfriend who you hold in your arms, petting his hair and assuring him nothing he could do would hurt you.
Werewolf!Boyfriend who clings to you when night falls and it begins, his bones and skin aching as he starts to pant.
Werewolf!Boyfriend who whines against you in pain as his body starts to shift, burying his head deeper against your lap as he mumbles about how its going. You tell him reassuring words as he grunts.
Werewolf!Boyfriend who grabs onto your arm for support as he feels fur start to sprout on him, trying not to dig his claws into you as he groans in pain, sharp fangs crowding his mouth.
Werewolf!Boyfriend who collapses on your lap fully transformed, tail thumping as you stroke his ears and tell him that you're still here for him.
part 2 to this fic! i hope you guys enjoy this as much as the first one :) this is my first time writing actual smut, i really hope i delivered!! i also did my best to keep it gender neutral while still somewhat detailed haha
warnings: nsfw. this is just smut. reader's genitalia is not described. boss x employee relationship. penetrative sex. praise kink. nipple play (or in this case... dial play? i guess?) hair pulling. slight edging. grinding. making out. the whole shebang. not proofread
work below the cut!
You slid into Tenna's lap, hands still wrapped around his antennas as you did. His hands immediately flew to your waist, fingers drumming against your skin.
"Feeling bold today, are we, sugar?" He did his best to tease, but his words came out shaky. "If I knew just how eager you'd be, I would've gotten you in here sooner."
He emphasized his statement by capturing your lips in a kiss. It was messy, with his hands trailing along your body as he moaned into your mouth due to your continued assault on his antennas.
The hardening of his cock below you was also becoming difficult to ignore. You let him set the pace for now, breaking away from the makeout session to press open-mouthed kisses on an antenna.
He practically shuddered in response, hips bucking upwards and grip tightening. "Fuck! Baby-" He threw his head back, panting as he forced you to pull away from the sensitive antennae.
You tilted your head at him, heart pounding in your chest. Had you went too far? Or maybe he was having second thoughts? "Tenna, I'm sorry, I-"
He quickly shushed you, gentle smile making its way back onto his face as he traced shapes into your hips with his thumbs. "Don't apologize, Y/N. It's just- Ah, this is embarrassing..." He sighed, shaking his head. "It's been so long since I... was last with anyone in this way. And when you keep paying so much attention to these," he lightheartedly gestured towards the top of his head, "Well. Sweetheart, I could get off just from that."
Your face flushed as he spoke, doing your best to regain composure. You were a hop, skip, and some foreplay away from fucking your hot boss. Don't mess it up now.
You pecked the bulb of his antenna one last time before settling back in his lap. "Guess I'll have to save that for next time, then." You both picked up right where you left off, your mouth on his instantly.
Tenna felt his heart flutter, only this time from an emotion outside of arousal. The thought of being with you in such a way, perhaps even romantically rather than just sexually, made him lightheaded. In all the time you had worked for him, he'd greatly enjoyed getting to know you. He'd seek you out during any company activity, jumping at the chance to talk to you about anything other than work. And now, he was sucking face with you in his lap. He felt like all his dreams were coming true.
You let out a breathy gasp as his mouth moved to your neck, his cool breath a stark contrast to the burning you felt when he touched at you. He latched his lips to your pulse point, almost experimentally, before lightly sucking.
Your reaction was instantaneous as you ground your hips down onto his clothed erection. Upon seeing your pleasure, he grew almost desperate in the way he began marking your neck, leaving little bites in between. His canines were sharper than you'd expected, considering you had only seen the fangs when he was really pissed at subordinates (which didn't happen around you often.) His tongue would flatten over each mark he left before pulling back to marvel at his handiwork.
"You look gorgeous all marked up for me, dollface. Feel like I just won big on a game show." You stifled a snicker at his analogy, instead opting to loop your arms around his neck.
"And what's gonna be the prize for my big winner today?" You teased, eyes flickering downwards. He gulped, tugging on the collar of his now-wrinkled suit jacket and dress shirt.
"I-I'm not sure, really..." The warm light coming from his screen illuminated your face as he looked up at you. "Is it... okay with you if I take the lead?" He sounded cautious, as if afraid you would rescind his offer and walk out on him.
You nodded, albeit a little too quickly. "Please, Tenna. I would love nothing more."
That was apparently all he needed to hear before he laid back on the couch, bringing your crotch to his face as soon as his head hit the armrest. He made quick work of slipping off your bottoms and underwear, practically drooling at the sight of you. Immediately, his head was between your thighs as he got to work on your hole.
The noises you were making were downright sinful, spurring the man on even more as you grabbed onto his antennas while riding his face.
"S-so... You're so good," you moaned. He paused for a moment, fingers flexing against your hips, before doubling down in his efforts. The wheels in your head started turning. He must have liked the praise.
You felt your pleasure heightening, arching into his mouth as your hands slid down his antennas. "Fuck, Tenna, you're making me feel so good. Look so- hah, handsome underneath me."
A muffled series of moans vibrated against your hole, his grip on your hips tightening. You leaned forward, licking up his antenna as he practically vibrated beneath you. You weren't sure if a television could even get hickeys on its antenna, but you sure as hell wanted to try.
He cried out as you continued your assault, nearly bringing you to your climax as his jaw tightened. You gripped harder onto the sensitive antennae. "Mm, c-close-"
And with that, he pulled you off of his face in an instant. You let out an exasperated gasp as he sat back up, sitting you in his lap. "What the fuck?" He looked down at you, screen darkening.
"Wanted our first time to be real special, sugar. As much as I loved tasting you, I'd rather have you cumming all because of my cock."
You blinked, mind going fuzzy at his words before he began slipping off his suit and pants. You hadn't even seen him naked yet and you were already drooling over him.
"And take off your shirt, will you? Want to leave pretty marks all over your chest while I'm fucking you."
You didn't need to be told twice. Both of you fully undressed, Tenna laid you back down on the couch. "Y/N." His voice was uncharacteristically serious.
You looked up at him, eyes slightly wide. "Y-yeah?"
"You're... sure you want to do this, right? I mean, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, or feel like you have to just because I'm your boss, or worse, you're just sleeping with me out of pity... Or-"
You quickly cut off his rambling with a peck on the nose, smile sincere. "Tenna. I really don't think you understand just how much I like you. I've had dreams about this with you for months- hell, domestic, cutesy things too." His screen took on a pink tint as you spoke. "This is more than okay. I've never wanted anything more, especially because it's you. Okay?"
As he looked down at you, eyes filled with genuine adoration as you looked at him, he could have sworn he was on top of the world. He swallowed thickly, burying his face in your neck as he hugged you.
"I hope I didn't... ruin the mood." He spoke softly, antennas pinned back as he looked at you like a sad puppy dog. You shook your head.
"I've never been more turned on in my life. My hot boss, asking me for enthusiastic consent, naked on top of me," you teased. His smile became bright again as he began playfully kissing down your throat.
"I'll make your dreams come true, alright, sweetheart?"
He left a trail of hickeys down your neck and chest, hand working to get you off as he did so. "Hngh, Tenna, stop teasing and just, oh, right there-- just fuck me already."
Smirking down at you, he stopped. "Well, guess we'll be tuning in to the season finale, then." He lined his cock up with your hole as you anticipated the stretch.
Your boss was a large man. This, of course, extended to his dick. You weren't sure if it was considered small, average, or large for... well, whatever kind of Darkner he was. In all honesty, it didn't really matter. Because for a Darkner of your size, it was huge.
"It's not gonna fit," you cried, watching as he disappeared inside of you, inch-by-inch. Tenna smoothed over your thighs, hissing as you clenched around him.
"Taking me so well, dollface, doing so- fuck, so good." Heat bloomed in your abdomen at his praise as he pushed further inside of you, desperate for you to take him to the hilt.
When, somehow, he was finally fully sheathed inside you, he stammered out more praise. Of how sweet you looked, how good it felt to be inside you. He practically caged you in with his arms, hunched over your form.
Your hands came up to stroke his antennas, the man above you involuntarily bucking his hips. You gasped, legs around his waist pulling him closer.
He watched you carefully, afraid to hurt you. "A-are you comfortable, Y/N?" He asked meekly. You looked up at him, slightly dazed, before nodding. "I'm okay, Tenna."
He started off slowly, doing his best to be gentle as he set his pace. You didn't care how loud you were being at this point, with each thrust perfectly hitting that spot inside you.
"Shit, not gonna last long-" You panted, continuing to play with your lover's antennas. "You feel so good inside me, could- mmph- could spend all day like this."
Your moans were what spurred him on, as his thrusts got harder, deeper. At one point, your hand caught on his antenna by accident and tugged, causing him to whimper in a downright filthy way. You knew the sound would be ingrained in your memory.
As he continued to fuck you, moaning and whining out terms of endearment, you let your hands trail down his body. He was gorgeous. Your hands stopped at the dials on his chest, ghosting over them. He sucked in a quick breath as you gazed up at him expectantly.
"Y-you can touch them, just... Please be gentle," he begged, blush deepening. You worked the dials, relishing in the way he gasped and quickened his pace. One hand resting by your head as the other steadied himself on the couch, he trembled as you brought your head up to suck on one of the dials.
"Ah- Y/N!" He whimpered, dick twitching inside of you as he nearly came right then. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, ripping you off of the dial on his chest. The string of saliva between your mouth and the dial broke at the force of his pulling, causing you to let out a moan. The grip you had on his cock was like a vice, Tenna panting.
"Y-you like that, don't you? Fuck, you're so dirty and it's so fucking hot," he whined, burying his face in your neck as his hips bucked. A slight static shock tingled at your neck, but the sensation only drove you closer to ecstasy.
"Tenna, please, I'm so close-" Your legs tightened around his midsection as he bit down on your shoulder to muffle his moans. "Be a good boy and let me cum, please." You knew you didn't need to beg-- he'd unravel as soon as you used that name.
"Shit, touch me, please please please, touch me," he begged, hoping you knew what he meant. You grabbed his antennas immediately, practically groping them as his head lowered to capture your lips in a kiss.
His hips stuttered as his senses felt like they were on fire, between the way you were clenching around him, and the feeling of your lips, and how you were touching his antennas just right-
"Cumming, 'm cumming, oh my god, fuck-" His moans only grew in volume as he clung desperately to you. "Me too, baby, me too, you're so good for me, cum for me," you murmured, your own release catching up to you.
At your urging, he came unraveled, spilling into you. The warm, static feeling coating your insides, coupled with the loud whimpers of your name, causing you to cum just moments after.
When you finally came down from your high, you rested your forehead against Tenna's monitor. He was still panting, screen complete static. You ignored the static shock that zapped your forehead as he slowly came back to, giving you a soft smile.
"That was so, so amazing, sweetheart. I... Just, thank you. Really."
You let out a breathy laugh, pressing another kiss to his nose. "You don't need to thank me. I was being serious when I said I like you."
He went pink again, pulling out from you. "I know, I know..." He was distracted by the sight of his release leaking out of you for a moment before quickly regrouping. "I kind of wanted to know if you were... Uh, serious about the other things you said, too."
You raised an eyebrow as he settled down on top of you, head resting on your chest while looking up at you expectantly. "Like what?"
He coughed, suddenly embarrassed as though he hadn't just been inches deep in you. "Well, you know... You said you imagined domestic couple things before, and talked about there being a next time, so... You know..." He trailed off as he rambled, voice growing quiet as he seemed to shrink.
You rested one hand on his back as the other cupped his face. "Tenna, are you asking if you can take me out on a date?"
His screen flipped through different cycles for a moment before he sat up, hands waving wildly. "W-well, I suppose so, but...! I mean, if you're uncomfortable with it, I- Look, I don't want you to be weirded out, I just- I really care for you, but if you just wanted to do the whole one-time broadcast with no reruns, that's-"
He cut himself off as you laughed, one of his favorite sounds. You sat up with him, looping your arms around his neck as you nuzzled against his bare chest.
"My answer will always be yes. So no need to overthink it, alright? I'm here to stay, for you." You looked up at him, catching his lips in a sweet kiss. "Besides, I'm like an old sitcom. I'm here to stay."
He let out a laugh, kissing you on the cheek. "It'd be more befitting to say, 'I'll be there for you,' but I'll take it. We may need to brush up on your program references, sweetheart."
Lying in each others arms for a few more minutes, Tenna finally moved to get dressed. "I can take you home tonight, refrigerate the cake, and maybe watch an old Western. How's that sound?" He turned to face you as he straightened his tie, giving you his signature smile.
You stretched as you slipped back into your clothes. "I couldn't think of a better way to end the night." He looped an arm around your waist, beaming.
"Then it's settled! Oh, and I almost forgot!" He scrambled back over to his desk, holding the small gift box from before that caused this whole mess. "I meant to give this to you... Before, you know." He waggled his nonexistent eyebrows at you, causing you to roll your eyes before opening the gift.
Inside the box was a red pen, 'I LOVE TV!' written on it in bold white letters. You smiled, looking back up at Tenna as you kissed him on the cheek.
"It's great, Tenna. I love it."
The pen was cute, yes. But the excited smile that he gave you was much cuter. He whisked you out of his office, blabbering about how he had decided on what flavor of cake to get you and how the pen was custom made.
The mess in his office was the janitor's problem now.
some more ramblings about eddie munson bc he's a loser and i love losers
eddie munson x masc reader
specifically im thinking about casual sex with eddie where he is and has been in love with you since middle school. you've never really interacted, he barely believes in "being in love" but annoyingly he still finds himself daydreaming about you. he pays a little more attention when he hears your voice and he's caught off guard when you wind up at his little spot in the woods.
you stumble upon it or you already knew about it, looking to buy a bit of pot off of him and you're so casual about asking if he wanted to join you. if he wants to get smoked out, after you make your purchase. he doesn't even catch it first, but he does agree when his brain catches up with him. you're hot and it's not his stash. eddie's late to catch your drift, too embarrassed to admit he thought this was a much more then casual hang out when you asked if he's done this before
he lies, telling you he was way more experienced than he is. personally, i fall into the school of thought that he's a virgin and i will die that hill. in his defense, there's no cool way to say 'no, i've never had sex, i spend all my time dealing and playing dungeons and dragons'. so, he just said he'd done enough to know what he likes. which is kind of true. true enough to not feel like a lie. but it is and it becomes obvious when eddie came with just head of your cock sliding into him.
it's as much a surprise to him as it is to you. then again, he wasn't expecting to end up face down in the backseat of your shitty, beat-up car. didn't expect to be gripping the door while you fucked into him. eddie didn't really expect for it feel so fucking good. he's painfully tight around you, and your dick feels like way too much. it's overwhelming when you try to move, but there's a gut-wrenching ache when you try to pull out that's so much worse.
eddie desperately smacks the floor in your car backseats, needing to get your attention. his voice muffled, mumbling for you to 'keep going, don't- you, i, fuck, don't stop', wanting to cry at how much harsher the grip in his hair got. your other hand slid up the arch of his back, towards his hips, pulling him back onto your dick. harsh and lazy.
it's not a perfect first - perfect firsts are just another thing to add to list of shit eddie doesn't believe in. that being said being high and pounded into the backseat of one of the hottest guys he's seen was a pretty good one, regardless of his premature orgasm. which he does try to play off after. hopelessly trying to not to seem totally lame, offering 'weed makes me more sensitive' as an excuse. you don't question it.
you don't bother, just suggest you guys try it sober next time.
I offer: Luka, with the “your freckles are where past lovers kissed you” prompt.
Luka, who kisses over each and every spot, cold fingertips tracing small shapes on your palms.
Luka, who sits on his knees in front of you, glancing up through thick, white lashes between each kiss, scanning your pretty eyes for permission to move on. When he senses it, he’ll continue forward.
Luka, who mumbles incoherent nonsense against your skin — you can hear something about “I’ll replace every stupid past lover that left a mark” — but everything else is too muffled to hear.
Luka, who kisses each spot so gently, but so reverently, intensely, as he tries to erase the past lovers from past lives.
Luka, who loves you more than all your past partners combined.
[ john price clocks ftm!reader before reader even fully realizes his own identity, cue some forcemasc and coercion with ftm!gaz. Pricegaz and poly!141 if you squint. ]
inspired by the works of @rawme-price and @hatsbuckets, ( I allowed to tag y’? ) as well as this post:
Price knows what you are the moment you join the team.
Baggy clothes when off-duty. Eyes flicking away from mirrors. Pillows clutched in front of your chest. Sports bras in the hamper that are two sizes too small.
It’s exactly what Gaz did before his transition, before Price showed the sergeant how to become a man. Gaz clocks you, too, and starts throwing in specific word choices to see if you’ll react. Do you even know what you could become?
“You know, your hair would look great shorter,” Gaz will comment conversationally. It’s easy, when he’s the resident fashionista of the team, the one that you can go shopping with or talk about skincare to. You never bothered to wonder how he knows about it all. Or he’ll say, “Oh, that sweater would look so good on you. It’s from the men’s section? Yeah, so? Plenty of girls shop there, it’s completely normal. Clothes don’t have genders.”
But clothes very much do have genders, at least for their plans. If you wear a dress or crop top when the team goes out for drinks, Price will stop you, give you a once-over. “You’re not wearin’ that.”
If pressed, he’ll say it’s too revealing. He’ll refuse to let you off of base until you’re wearing something that can pass as androgynous or at least soft masc. Even butch would be a good start. So you sigh, and always end up changing into jeans and a hoodie, or an oversized tee, depending on the weather.
But you’re still not out of the closet. Maybe it’s because you’re yet to come to terms with it, or maybe you’re afraid that the team won’t support you. Either way, Price decides that he has to take things into his own hands.
You wake up with Gaz pressing his palm over your mouth so you won’t scream as Price cuffs your wrists to your bunk.
“Shhh, shhh,” Gaz murmurs, as you thrash to free yourself. “Relax, lad, it’s just me. It’s Gaz and the captain. Just relax. This’ll be over soon.”
Lad? Is he talking to you?
You don’t have time to question it, because suddenly there’s the loud buzzing of shears next to your ear, and you stiffen in terror. Gaz keeps you clamped silent, though you could probably still try to scream if you wanted to. But you’re too disoriented, not fully awake.
By the time you feel the shears press to your scalp, it’s too late. Your long hair falls in coils around your head, the cold air of the barracks now hitting skin that hadn’t been exposed since you were an infant. Tears well up in your eyes as you feel Price run the shears in smooth, practiced lines, careful not to nick you. When he’s done, you’re left trembling and crying with a plain buzzcut.
Gaz strokes the spiky fuzz, cooing softly at you. “Shh, it’s okay. You’ll love it once it’s grown out a little bit. Shh, shh, don’t cry. Almost done, I promise. Such a good boy.”
“‘M n-not a boy—“ you try to choke out, but a sharp slap from Price cuts you off with a gasp.
“If I ‘ear your say that shit again, I’ll wash y’ mouth out wif soap, you understand me?” the captain growls out, and you whimper, flinching, as he moves again, but instead of another slap, he’s pulling out a knife, and your heart lurches in your throat. You start to struggle again, but Gaz is holding down your legs and the cuffs and keeping your arms above your head.
Price cuts open your pajama shirt, baring your chest to him, and you can’t help the instinctive terror that he’s going to rap3 you right here and now. You trusted him, and now he’s going to defile you.
But he doesn’t make any move to rid you of your pajama shorts, leaving them untouched. Instead, he’s opening a small rectangular package of something that looks like sets of big bandaids. You’re confused, at first, and then start to jerk wildly as he palms your left breast, placing a small square of tissue paper over your nipple before carefully applying a length of the “bandaid.” Your heart thuds frantically against your ribs as he winds a longer, thinner strip over the top of the first and then rubs over it to ensure that it’s smooth and sticking properly. He repeats the process on the other side, and you suddenly realize that your chest is far flatter than it’s ever been before. In the dim light, it almost looks like you just have plain, masculine pectorals instead of bound breasts.
“Ideally, we don’t want y’ arms up over y’ head, but I knew you’d wriggle too much if I didn’t secure you,” Price says gruffly. “We can redo the TransTape later when y’ calmed down.”
“T-trans?” you repeat, your voice faint. “I’m… I’m not…”
“We won’t judge,” Gaz reassures you, still petting your head. “We’re going to help you be the man that you’ve always been on the inside. Are you okay if we take the handcuffs off now? Will you be a good boy?”
You nod meekly, and are rewarded with the click of the key in the handcuffs. Your arms drop down to your chest, crossing protectively over it. You feel naked, even with the thick tape coverings.
Gaz presses a tender kiss to your temples, distracting you as Price begins to fiddle with a tiny glass bottle and a plastic-protected syringe. Your eyes widen again, panic setting in. “What’s that? Captain?”
Price just grunts in reply. Gaz holds your arms down, keeping them pinned to your chest. “Just breathe. It’ll just be a tiny prickle. You’ll feel so much better in just a few weeks.”
Your breathing picks up as Price draws from the bottle, tapping the needle to ensure that there are no air bubbles trapped in the hollow metal. Gaz pets your arms, murmurs sweet nothings to you as Price pinches some of your soft belly fat between two fingers and jabs the needle into your skin. You give a stifled cry, muscles twitching reflexively as Price injects you with the clear liquid. It burns, and you feel sick to your stomach from the entire ordeal. You're trying not to cry again.
As soon as Price withdraws the needle, you're scrambling into Gaz's arms, burying your face against his neck. He seems like the safer option at the moment.
Gaz holds you close, feeling the tremors arcing through your body. He nudges you into his lap, settling you sideways so he can rub the injection site with two fingers, massaging away the pain. "Poor boy, I know it's scary. But we already have everything set up for you. You'll see the doc for your top surgery consultation in a week, and we'll schedule from there. We'll have to get you on a better exercise regimen, too, get you eating healthy and pushing yourself. You're going to have a lot more energy now that you've started testosterone."
Testosterone-- so that's what the shot was. You've heard of those but never dared to consider them. You were too afraid that it would end your new military career. But Gaz is talking about surgery, changes that you can't imagine. You're so overwhelmed that it feels like you might throw up.
Price is rummaging through your closet, tearing dresses, skirts, and crop tops off of the hangars and tossing them to the floor. So much for your wardrobe. He leaves you only with band tees, plain black socks, and your most ragged jeans. "We'll 'ave to get you some proper clothes soon. No boy of mine is going t' be seen runnin' around in this shit."
You find yourself nodding as Price tosses Gaz a wrinkled grey shirt that you didn't know you even owned. It might very well be left over from whoever had this room before you. Gaz helps you into the shirt with much tenderness, gathering you to your feet and guiding you to the bathroom. He takes a clean cloth, wetting it under warm water, and washes the tears from your face. You’re still sniffly, wobbly.
Price pads in after the two of you. “Go on, lad. Have a look in the mirror.”
You drag your gaze up. It’s almost a jumpscare. You barely recognize yourself. Your face looks sharper, more masculine, without long hair framing your cheekbones. Your chest is taped almost completely flat. You could probably pass for a cis guy from a distance, maybe even up close, if it was just a passing glance.
Your eyes fill with tears again, but this time for an entirely different reason. Gaz kisses your forehead again, watching as you stare at your reflection.
content: Denji x male reader. You (y/n) are a devil whose mission is to steal Chainsaw Man's heart. However, you unexpectedly encounter Denji under surprising circumstances that change your plans.
note: Are we fw the new layout?? Everyone quickly say yes before my feelings get hurt. Anyway, I'm kinda in the mood to write Denji recently for some reason, maybe it's because of the movie. Finally figured out how to do the gradient, and tell me why it's such a genuine pain. Could this have been gender neutral instead? Yeah, but I do what I want.
It should’ve been simple. Y/n had been sent to kill Denji—to take his heart. Y/n was a devil. One who knew how to stay hidden.
To everyone else, they were just another student. A transfer, nothing special. There was always an excuse ready—my family moves a lot, my dad’s job, I had trouble at my last school. Lies came easily when you’d been repeating them long enough. No one questioned it. No one looked twice.
The truth was simpler. Y/n didn’t have a family. Never did. They were just a weapon—passed from place to place, mission to mission.
And now?
Chainsaw Man’s heart was the target.
The instructions had been minimal. A vague description, barely enough to go off. No location. No routine. Just a face—and even that wasn’t detailed. It should’ve been frustrating.
But y/n was used to working with less.
Denji was out walking.
Which—yeah, kinda weird.
Usually, he’d be crashing at home, mooching food, or doing literally anything that didn’t involve thinking too hard. Walking around alone wasn’t really his thing.
But he’d gotten bored. And when Denji got bored, he moved.
The streets were packed—salarymen dragging themselves home, students laughing too loudly, people bumping into each other like it was normal. It was noisy. Kinda annoying.
Denji shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing around without really looking.
Man… I’m hungry.
He’d eaten earlier, sure, but that didn’t really count. It never counted. He could go for something sweet. Or meat. Meat sounded good.
He clicked his tongue quietly, kicking at nothing as he walked.
He was wearing black pants and a loose white t-shirt he’d swiped from Aki Hayakawa. It was a little big on him, sleeves hanging just enough to be annoying—but whatever. Free shirt.
At least he didn’t stick out too much like this.
Not that he cared.
…Okay, maybe a little.
He turned behind a school, cutting through like it was a shortcut—and suddenly something slammed straight into him.
“—gh?!”
Denji stumbled back, more surprised than hurt. It felt like getting rammed by something way too fast for a normal person.
What the hell was that—?
There was a loud thud. Papers scattering. Someone hitting the ground. Denji blinked, then looked down. A guy. Around his age.
School uniform, messy now. Books everywhere. Backpack barely hanging off one shoulder like it was about to give up and fall the rest of the way.
Denji stared for a second. …Did he just run into me?
The guy didn’t move at first. Just kinda… lay there. Then he blinked. Slow. Like he was waking up or something.
And looked up. Their eyes met. Denji tilted his head slightly, still staring.
