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darlingdaisyfarm · 2 months ago

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₊˚ʚ Rain in the woods (Ford Pines x fem!reader) ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

part 1 | part 2

NSFW (mdni)

There’s something about Gravity Falls in the autumn that feels like a secret the world only tells to those who stay long enough to hear it. The air smells like damp pine needles and earth, the leaves of the trees cover the ground with a carpet of golden, rusty and red shades. Mornings here are misty, cold enough that you can see your breath, but not quite winter's chill. It’s the kind of cold that makes you want to wrap yourself in something soft, makes you crave warmth. It’s a cozy time.

Gravity Falls in the fall is just. . . different.

In the late afternoon, the rays of the sun break through the crowns of the trees, flooding everything with a lazy golden light. And sometimes when you’re out by the edge of the Shack, you catch a glimpse of deer moving quietly through the woods, their dark eyes watching you with curiosity before disappearing into the shadows of woods.

The Mystery Shack is the same, just a little too quiet now that the kids have gone back to California. It’s not empty, not really, but there’s a weight to the silence. Mabel’s infectious laugh and Dipper’s constant questions replaced by the softer, quieter rhythm of life with the twins. You’ve been here for months now, long enough that the place feels like home. Especially when the twins, Stan and Ford, are around. But that’s where it gets complicated.

It’s Ford.

You’ve fallen for him. Hard. It’s ridiculous, really, because he’s so much older and you know you shouldn’t, there’s no logical reason for it, no sense in how your heart races every time he looks at you or how your stomach flips when you catch a glimpse of him doing something, like sorting through research papers or tinkering with one of his strange gadgets.

But god, it’s the way he wears that red turtleneck, isn’t it? It clings to him in a way that makes your thoughts go to places they shouldn't. It’s so simple, so casual and yet it wrecks you. Every time you see him in it, you feel the warmth between your legs. You don’t even realize how much it’s affecting you until you're practically soaked, wishing he’d notice. Wishing he’d touch you.

It doesn’t help that he’s so damn wise, so much older and that age difference? The way he corrects you, not in a condescending way, but so softly, so patiently. Like that time when you were trying to help him with some gadget, fumbling over wires and he came up behind you, placing those big hands over yours.

“No, not like that. Here, let me show you.”

His voice was so calm, so gentle, and his hands. . . they just took over. His touch was firm but careful, like he knew exactly how to handle you and it made you melt right there on the spot. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from moaning because holy shit, how could he not feel what he was doing to you? His breath warm on the back of your neck, his fingers touching yours with just enough pressure to make your knees feel weak.

It’s pathetic how much you crave that. How much you want him to just take control, to manhandle you a little bit, gently, of course. You can imagine it so clearly: him pressing you up against a wall, those strong hands pinning your wrists above your head, his mouth on your neck, groaning something about how you’re “too young for this”, how he shouldn’t, but fuck, you know he wants to. You can see it in the way his eyes linger on you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, the way his fingers sometimes twitch when you're near, like he's resisting the urge to reach out and touch you.

And it’s not like you’re subtle either. Maybe that’s why you’re out here now, watching him from the window as he rakes up leaves in front of the shack. It shouldn’t be hot, shouldn’t make your mouth go dry, but it does. It really fucking does.

Because it’s Ford and every single thing about him makes you ache.

For example, Ford’s in the kitchen, humming under his breath while he chops vegetables with a methodical precision that’s so him. You’re sitting at the table, scrolling through your phone, trying to distract yourself from the fact that just watching him move around the kitchen has you practically dripping. God, how does he do that? He’s not even trying to be sexy, just making dinner in that stupid, red turtleneck and apron Mabel had given him. . . and here you are, practically imagining yourself on your knees, begging for it.

You hear him muttering something to himself as he stirs the pan, his brow furrowed in concentration, but your attention is broken when he turns to you with that familiar, slightly exasperated look on his face.

“You know,” he says calmly. “these phones. . . they just eat up time. Back in my day, we didn’t have things like that. We actually talked to each other during dinner.”

You laugh, because of course he would say something like that. Ford, being thirty years in another dimension, has no clue what the modern world is like and it’s just adorable, yes. But you’re also too busy imagining all the things you’d rather be doing with your mouth than explaining social media to that old man.

Still, you put the phone down because something about his tone always makes you want to listen. Maybe it’s the way he says things, like he’s so much older and knows better, and you can’t help but get a little turned on by the way he’s so gentle when he scolds you.

He moves past you to grab something off the counter and when he leans close, you catch a familiar blend of pine and old book scents. It makes your thighs clench together involuntarily because now all you can think about is how you’d kill to taste him. To kneel in front of him while he’s still wearing that turtleneck, his eyes watching you as you take his cock in your mouth, sucking him so slow, so deep, until he can’t help but grip your hair and guide you.

Your hand twitches in your lap, resisting the urge to touch yourself right there at the table, but fuck, it’s hard not to when he’s right there, all casual and focused on making dinner like he has no idea the effect he’s having on you.

You shift in your seat as your thoughts get dirtier. Like how it would feel to straddle his lap while he’s working on his journals, his big hands on your hips, holding you as you ride him slow, dragging your cunt along his cock while he tries to concentrate on his notes. You can picture it so clearly, his jaw clenched, brows knit when he’s trying to stay focused, but fuck, he’s too close to losing it, too close to breaking and finally giving in, flipping you over and taking you.

“Are you alright?”

Ford’s voice pulls you out of your fantasy, he looks at you curiously, like he knows something’s up but can’t quite put his finger on it. You must look like a wreck right now, all flushed and flustered.

The next morning, even after you spent the whole night touching yourself afterwards, you still can't get enough. Your fingers working desperately between your legs, hips arching up off the mattress, trying to keep quiet even though the need clawing at you is making it impossible. You’re soaked, drenched in the thought of him, Ford, in that damn red turtleneck, that stern look on his face when he’s focused on anything other than you. You want to shove that look right off his face, make him fall apart, make him whine your name.

It’s shameful, really, the way you’re so gone over him. The age gap shouldn’t do this to you, but it only makes you hotter, messes with your head in the best way. He’s older, so much smarter, more experienced, and all you want to do is kneel at his feet and beg him to show you exactly what all that experience feels like. You think about his rough hands gripping your hair while you choke on his cock, that raspy voice telling you to take it, all of it and when you obey, next thing you hear is “that’s it, such a good gi—“

Fuck, your breath catches, and you’re so close, rubbing your clit faster, thighs trembling. Your whole body feels tight, ready to snap, your mind filling with images of Ford pinning you down, fucking you into the mattress until you can’t breathe, until you—

“Hey, can you come in here for a second?”

His voice breaks through your fog like a fucking bomb exploding. Your eyes wide in shock, your body jerks, because you’re so close to cumming you could scream. “Shit,” you whisper harshly, hands flying off your slick cunt like you’ve been burned, heart hammering in your chest.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It takes you a second to pull yourself together, to stop panting like you’ve just run a marathon. You wipe your wet fingers hastily on the bedsheets, muttering, “Coming, Ford,” though not the way you wanted to.

You get up on wobbly legs, your body still buzzing, still so damn close it’s torture and you head toward the kitchen, running a hand through your hair like it’s going to make a difference. How the fuck are you supposed to face him now?

Ford’s sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread out in front of him, and his eyes flicker up to you the second you walk in, what makes your stomach flip, your heart pounding in your chest.

You’re trying so hard to act like nothing’s wrong, like you weren’t just moaning his name touching yourself five seconds ago. “What’s up?” you ask, even though your voice is shaky, your mind still spinning. Your thighs press together, trying to dull the ache that hasn’t gone away.

Ford looks at you for a moment longer, like he’s trying to read you and it makes you panic inside. God, you hope he doesn’t know. “I found something interesting in the woods today,“ he says, that familiar thoughtful tone returning. “It looks like an anomaly of some kind, a gravitational distortion, but it’s hard to be certain without taking a closer look. Normally, I’d go with Dipper, he was always eager to go anomaly hunting with me over the summer, but now that he’s gone back to California, I thought. . .” Ford pauses. “maybe you’d be interested in coming with me tomorrow to check it out?” he glances up at you and for a moment, his gaze softens in that way that always makes your heart skip a beat, just the way he looks at you when he says it makes you nearly collapse.

He’s so fucking hot without even trying.

Your heart’s pounding for a whole different reason now. “Yeah, sure,” you reply, trying to sound casual, like you weren’t just fucking yourself into oblivion a minute ago. “I mean, I’m no Dipper, but I’d love to help!”

Ford’s lips curve in an approving smile, and it’s almost painful how beautiful he looks when he does that. Like a reward for doing something good. God, you’d do anything to get more of that look from him.

He watches you for a moment, his brows knitting together like he’s thinking too hard. “Are you alright? you seem. . . a little distracted.” his voice sounds way too caring, the edge of concern mixing with that sharp, authoritative tone that always makes your knees weak.

Oh, if only he knew just how distracted you are.

Well, now you don’t know how you ended up out here, freezing your ass off, trudging through the woods with Ford while he’s talking about electromagnetic fields and spatial distortions. The chill bites into your skin, and of course you didn’t think to bring a jacket, because why would you, when you were too busy fantasizing about him fucking you senseless? You were so distracted by that goddamn turtleneck and the way his hands move when he talks that you didn’t even consider how cold it might get. Now you’re out here, shivering like an idiot, trying to keep up with him while your body is screaming for warmth, for heat, for him.

Ford doesn’t seem to notice your suffering. He’s in his element, rambling about science and anomalies, gesturing toward the trees like he’s uncovering some deep cosmic truth. And you want to care, you really do, but all you can think about is how fucking good he looks in that tan coat, how his hands would feel on your skin, holding you still, keeping you steady while he. . .

You try to focus on his voice, but it’s useless. Your mind is gone, stuck on the idea of him pushing you against one of these trees, ripping your clothes off, his six fingers bruising into your hips while he pounds into you, telling you to take it, like you were made for him.

You grit your teeth, the cold biting at your cheeks as you shake off the thought or try to, anyway. It’s fucking useless. Every word that comes out of his mouth makes you sink deeper into fantasy. You can’t help it; you’re obsessed and he doesn’t even know.

". . . and that's when I realized that the energy trail was much stronger than I had originally assumed,” Ford continues, but to you his voice is distant, like you’re hearing it through water. You’re so far gone in your own head that you almost miss it when he asks, “Are you alright? You’ve been unusually quiet.”

Fuck. You blink, realizing he’s staring at you now, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses. You clear your throat, trying to act normal, like you weren’t just picturing his cock inside you two seconds ago. “Yeah, uh, I’m fine. Just, um, a little cold.”

Ford’s eyes flicker down to your arms, bare except for your thin shirt, and his brow furrows in that disappointed way. “You didn’t bring a jacket?” he asks in a stern lecturing tone, voice strict and that drives you insane.

You cringe inwardly. Of course he’s going to scold you. You love it. “I. . . forgot,” you admit, feeling like a damn child being corrected.

He huffs softly, shaking his head. “That was careless. You should know better by now, especially given the weather this time of year.” he sighs, but without further ado takes off his coat and hands it to you. “Here, put this on. We still have a ways to go.”

You take the coat, feeling the warmth spreading through your body — not only from the fabric, but also from the fact that it belongs to him. It smells like him, this subtle blend of his favorite coffee and old books, and you pull it around yourself, feeling the weight of it settle on your shoulders. It’s too big, swamping you completely, but somehow that just makes it better. You’re wrapped in him now and it’s driving you crazy.

“Thank you, Ford,” you mumble, pulling the clothes tighter around you. The cold air is still biting at your skin, but now, with his coat on, you can almost pretend it’s his arms holding you close.

“You really should be more careful,” Ford continues, his voice taking on that fatherly, lecturing tone again. “Out here, exposure to the elements can be dangerous. Hypothermia can set in quickly, especially if you’re not properly prepared.”

You can’t help it, the way he talks, the way he corrects you, makes you want to drop to your knees right here in the dirt. It’s infuriating and so fucking hot at the same time.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you mutter, rolling your eyes even though you’re still so turned on it hurts. “I’ll remember next time, Professor Pines.”

Ford pauses, his eyes flickering to you at the sarcastic tone in your voice. “You’d better,” he grins.

Fuck, why does he have to be like this? All you can think about is him pinning you against a tree, that authoritative tone pushing you further into submission, his hands rough on your skin, his voice in your ear telling you how badly you need it, how good you’re going to be for him—

“Honestly, you seem. . . distracted, again,” Ford says, he stops walking, turning to look at you.

Shit. “What? No— I’m just tired.” how the hell are you supposed to concentrate when all you can think about is getting railed against a tree by the man who’s currently lecturing you about hypothermia?

Ford gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you for a second, but thankfully, he doesn’t push it. Instead, he just sighs, turning back toward the woods. “Try to focus, okay? this anomaly isn’t going to find itself.”

You bite your lip, nodding even though your mind is anywhere but on the anomaly. If only he knew what you were really thinking about. If only he knew how badly you wanted him to stop being so goddamn serious and just fuck you dumb in the middle of these woods.

The two of you finally reach the spot Ford had been leading you to, hidden deep in the woods, tucked between towering pines and thick underbrush. It’s a small clearing, but something about it feels. . . wrong. The air here is heavier, like it’s charged with something invisible. Ford crouches low, gesturing for you to follow him into the bush, and you drop down beside him, trying to keep your breathing steady, you watch as he surveys the area with full concentration.

“There,” he murmurs, pointing ahead of you. “do you see it?”

You squint through the branches, at first, you don’t see anything unusual, just trees and shadows. But then, something shifts. A flicker of movement catches your eye, something that shouldn’t be there. It’s wrong, like it’s not part of this world. It’s hard to focus on, almost like it’s glitching in and out of existence, flickering at the edges like static. You can barely make out its form, part animal, part shadow, part something else. It’s small, no bigger than a dog, but the way it moves, the way it breathes, feels unnatural.

“What. . . is that?” you whisper, leaning closer to Ford, your shoulder brushing against his.

He glances at you with a glint of excitement in his eyes. “Distortion in the structure of reality,” he explains quietly. “I’ve seen creatures like this before. They exist in pockets of dimensional instability, places where our world overlaps with others. Their form isn’t stable, which is why they appear, uh, fragmented.”

You stare at the thing, amazed. It moves silently, its body flickering like a bad signal, its limbs elongating and shrinking as it drifts through the clearing, unaware of your presence. You should be scared, but all you can think about is how close Ford is to you, how his voice sounds in your ear and how much you want to feel him right now. You can’t focus, not when he’s explaining these wild theories with that serious tone, making you feel like an idiot for not understanding.

“And what does it. . . do?”

Ford’s gaze remains fixed on the anomaly. “They’re typically harmless,” he murmurs, “but they’re drawn to specific atmospheric conditions. This one, for example, seems to respond to shifts in barometric pressure and electromagnetic fluctuations in the atmosphere. But more interestingly,” he pauses, glancing at the sky, “rain tends to destabilize them completely.”

You blink, confused. “Rain?”

Ford nods. “Rain disrupts their ability to remain in our dimension. The water molecules interfere with the dimensional rift that keeps them here. It’s fascinating, really. I’ve observed this behavior before, it’s as if the rain itself acts like a natural disruptor!”

You’re about to ask him more when, as if on cue, the first cold drops of rain start to fall, splattering against the leaves and the ground. Ford’s eyes widen and you glance back at the anomaly. The creature twitches, its form flickering more violently now, like it’s struggling to hold onto something.

The rain falls harder, and within seconds, the creature’s form starts to dissolve. It doesn’t vanish all at once, no, its body breaks apart in fragments, each piece flickering and glitching until there’s nothing left but empty air. One minute it’s there, the next it’s gone.

You stare at the empty clearing, rain dripping down your face, soaking into Ford’s coat. “It. . . it’s gone.”

Ford leans back slightly, his eyes still big in surprise. “The rain destabilized it completely.” there’s something in his tone, something deeper, like he’s not ready to leave yet. Ford wipes his glasses with the sleeve of his turtleneck.

The rain starts falling harder, drops turning into a full downpour that soaks everything in its path. You stand there, wrapped in Ford’s coat, but he’s not as lucky, his hair quickly becomes drenched, plastering to his forehead in thick, graying strands. The fabric of his red turtleneck clings to his body, outlining every muscle, every curve of his broad chest and shoulders. The rain slides down his skin, leaving little rivulets of water dripping from his neck, his hair curling at the edges, making him look even more handsome than he really was

You can’t stop staring. He’s just so damn hot, god bless him. You feel a rush of heat despite the cold rain, you bite your lip, fighting back the urge to push him against the nearest tree and kiss him.

Ford wipes his face again with the back of his hand, visibly irritated by the rain now. His expression grows more serious as he watches the empty clearing where the anomaly had been. The rain’s still coming down hard, and Ford’s soaked through, he runs a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back, but the rain keeps coming, relentless.

“We should head back, there’s no point in staying here now that it’s gone.”

There’s something different about his tone, more serious, frustrated, maybe? He turns, starting to walk back the way you came, and you follow, the tension between you is growing. It’s obvious he’s frustrated, his normally calm demeanor slipping just a bit, and you know it’s not just because of the rain. It’s the anomaly disappearing, vanishing right in front of him, after all that work.

You pull his coat tighter around you, trying to keep up, but it’s hard to focus on anything besides how good he looks, even now, soaked through and visibly annoyed. Every step now feels tense, the silence between you stretching uncomfortably, broken only by the sound of your boots squelching in the mud and the steady rhythm of the downpour.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you reach the Mystery Shack. Ford’s steps quicken as he approaches the door, shaking the rain from his hair like an irritated cat before pushing it open. You follow him inside, immediately hit by the warmth of the indoors, the cozy smell of wood. The contrast between the cold, wet outside and the warmth of the Shack feels surreal, your skin prickling as you step out of your soaked boots.

You turn to Ford, feeling a little shy as you glance at him. “Thanks. . . for the coat,” you murmur in a soft tone, giving him a little smile.

He nods, still looking slightly annoyed, but the tension in his shoulders seems to ease a bit. “Of course,” he speaks. “you shouldn’t have come without proper gear in the first place.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll. . . I’ll make us some tea,” you offer, eager to warm up and maybe soften the mood between you two. “You want a cup?”

Ford glances at you, thinking, then nods. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

You head to the kitchen, still feeling the weight of your earlier thoughts clinging to you, but trying to shake them off as you busy yourself making the tea. The warmth of the kitchen seeps into your bones, and soon the kettle is whistling, the scent of the tea filling the air. You pour two cups, careful not to spill as you carry them back out to the living room.

But the moment you step back in, everything stills.

Ford’s standing there, his back to you, and he’s in the process of pulling off his soaked turtleneck, peeling the wet fabric off his skin, revealing his bare back, broad, strong, skin glistening from the rain. You freeze, eyes wide, the cup trembling in your hands. You almost drop it right then and there, the mug slipping slightly as you catch your breath, heart racing, your brain is an absolute mess

Holy shit.

Ford turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder at you, completely unaware of the effect he’s having. You look down, watching the movements of his body, the way the muscles roll under his skin as he turns to face you fully now. You can see the soft gray hair on his chest, the way it leads down to the waistband of his pants, and suddenly, you’re not thinking about the tea or the rain or the goddamn anomaly anymore.

Ford glances at you, frowning slightly when he notices the way you’re standing there, staring at him, barely able to breathe. “You alright?”

You nod, “Y-yeah.” but you’re barely listening, the pounding of your heart too loud in your ears, your body too warm, too needy. All you can think about is how you want to tear the rest of his clothes off, feel the weight of his body pinning you down against the kitchen counter, hear him grunt your name as he ruins you. You’re imagining how he’d taste, how he’d groan as you took him in your mouth, his hands fisting in your hair, his hips pushing deeper until you're choking on him, eyes watering, but you’d love every second of it, because this is Ford.

You can barely stand on your feet and all he does is run a hand through his wet hair, oblivious. "You sure?"

And then you blink, realizing that you've been staring too long, but it's too late to back off.

#stanford pines x you #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines #gravity falls x you #x reader #Smut #gravity falls #ford pines smut #gravity falls smut #ford pines x reader #gravity falls stanford #ford x reader #ford pines #stanford pines x reader #ford pines x you #gravity falls fanfic

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doodle-do-wop · 5 months ago

Note

asking here because i want to see you ramble on tumblr

Oralie and Kenric thoughts?

Bro they are so stupid

Smartest morons you'll ever met in your entire life but soooo so stupid.

Kenric is a walking fashion disaster but unlike Terik who is 'mad hatter crazy rich eccentric uncle' vibes Kenric just looks like shit. Not a fashionable bone in his body and Oralie would rather shot herself in the foot than stand next to him during public appearances and yet willingly chooses the chair next to him anyway like a dumbass.

They're the worst two people to work with because they'll disagree on the stupidest fucking detail that legitimately does not matter and someone please but Liora out of her misery she is begging.

Oralie's tower is pink and perfect and at first it just seems like it's begging for a stain or a crumb but Kenric can see past all of that satin and silk and know that under all the frills Oralie is a mess.

Kenric's tower is oddly cozy but none of this furniture fucking matches, it's like he saw anything on the curb and picked it up as it was. Oralie can't tell if this man does it on purpose and is just really really really committed to the bit or if he genuinely is this incompetent when it comes to making two things look okay being next to each other. It's a mystery. It despite the horrendous furniture and Kenric, the tower is just the best place to find a good window seat to curl up in with a good book and soooo many snacks! Kenric loves to snack! His pantry is stocked with almost any snack, small meal, or tiny nibble.

Oralie keeps the paper industry up and running with how many sticky notes and scrolls she buys, she has three whole jars of pens, pencils, and quills that either don't work, are begging to be put down, or are hanging on by a thread but she likes them too much to throw them away so she spends a solid 16 seconds any time she's at her desk trying to find a pen that works (you'd think she'd have it memorized which ones work and which don't but she buys multiple of the same damn pen, it drives Kenric mad)

They're gossips

They're such horrible horrible gossips

Kenric likes to bother Oralie because she's a workaholic and what the hell is she going to do? Leave her precious work? I don't think so, gossip time >:)

They both stay up late super often so sometimes Kenric goes to Oralie, sometimes Oralie goes to Kenric. Its complicated but also so very very simple. Sometimes Oralie has wrapped herself up in far to many 'what if's and 'possibilities' she's capable of knitting a stress sweater and sometimes Kenric lets himself go too far in his own mind. Sometimes they just need each other, whether they know they do or they don't.

At Galas Oralie and the rest of the women alternate who they walk in with or dance with etc. Oralie dancing or walking in with Kenric is not fu of the romantic tension you think it is because they're fucking gossiping (Again with the gossiping). Oralie is observant and quick and Kenric is a nosy nosy man. When they dance Oralie makes it a point to at least bump her shoe against Kenric's a couple of times, usually in response to a lame joke or when he teases her. When they get to the point where they're absolutely mad about each other and everyone and their wanderling Grandmother can see if their dancing is...different.

They still banter and they still bicker. They haven't lost the 'magic' but like people...things change. They grow and they become something new. And change isn't a bad thing it's just change. And neither mind this new rhyme added to their dances. Kenric can tell when Oralie is going to tap her heel against his shoe, she has this little crinkle between her brows when she's focusing and he's spent long enough noticing all her little quirks and habits to tell when she's getting ready to do it. And he lets her. He thinks it's cute that she's still so fiery, that she hasn't let her stubborn side slip just because things are different now. They both know its different But they're councillors. They can't be fully different. Oralie's duty is to her promise, the oaths and swears she made when she was sworn in. She's too self-destructive to allow herself to be happy above her job. Even if it's her personal duty to herself to be happy.

For now they just dance

Maybe in another life, in another world, another time it will be them

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc oralie #councillor oralie #Oralie Bellarose #councillor kenric #kotlc kenric #Kenric Fathdon

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clarktooncrossing · 2 months ago

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DUDELZ of the Damned | La Doncella de El Río

HEY THERE PEOPLE OF TODAY AND ROBOTS OF TOMORROW! IT'S ME, CLARK!

A chill is in the air. You can feel it can't you? Perhaps you even recognize it. That same chill arrives every year right on the dot. With it comes a frightful howl in the moonlight, the only other sound to be heard. Otherwise there is a strange calmness settling around you, like the point of ease before the storm. By now the howling has stopped. It has been replaced by a different sound. Footsteps. Big, heavy, dragging, as if the figure didn't quite know how to use their legs. Perhaps it's a random passerby. Perhaps it's a rotting, frightful feature freshly risen from the grave. Perhaps it's some other, unspeakable horror waiting to pounce! Whatever it is, you're not waiting around to find out! Yet no matter how far you run, it can't be escaped. The chill in the air, the howling of the wind, the heavy footsteps, it all leads back to one thing: October is here! And with it comes the return of the DUDELZ of the Damned!

Yes weirdos, like last year, my approximation of Sketchtober has returned. I call it an proxy because there was no list of prompts. Nah, that'd be too limiting. This is yet another case where I compiled my own list of ideas, sketched them out, then used one color per picture. With all that said, let's see what spoopy scribblings await us today!

Recall the tale of Crocenstein, a reptilian monstrosity made in the laboratory of Doctor Clarkenstein. His story continues deep within the jungles of South America circa 1500 BC. It's also the beginning of Princess Alberta’s story, second heir to the queen of the Amazons. Much to the dismay of her majesty. As far as the malicious monarch, the eldest of the two always had to make up for the youngest. Princess Nara wasn’t as cold-hearted as her mother. Her biggest concern was her sister’s safety. Not that Alberta ever noticed. Being wrapped up in her mom’s mind games meant she was always used as a pawn. Such was the case when the Queen ordered her daughter to find the Necroscroll, a lost piece of parchment fabled for raising the dead. Years passed and it seemed her majesty’s plight to quietly exile her daughter had worked. Until she walked up the temple with the scroll in hand. Never had Alberta felt prouder. It was the last thing she felt before a blade was buried into her heart. A horrified Nara watched as her mother slaughtered her sister for the sake of using her blood to activate the Necroscoll. Only problem? Even with her daughter’s blood inking the paper, she couldn’t understand a word of it. Less so when Nara chopped off her head. Mother’s mind games had taken her sister. When all was over, all the princess could do was bury the scroll, mummify her sister, and pray that the next life would treat her more kindly. Undoubtedly what happened next wasn’t exactly what she had in mind…

What comes next can wait for tomorrow. For now, let me explain how this came to be. Like many pieces this year, this one acts as a sequel:

My original plan for Crocenstein was inevitably to draw his bride. Sadly every attempt I made to draw Alberta in the role came out looking lackluster. Not terrible, mind you. Just not what I had envisioned in my head. Eventually I was forced to scrap the idea altogether. Turns out this was a blessing in disguise. During the last year I had canned my 3K characters, meaning the Clarktooniverse was in need of a new mummy. Luckier still, South America was known for mummies older than those in Egypt. With this in mind I combined The Bride and the Mummy to craft this version of Alberta you see before you. She even comes complete with a white streak as my own little tribute. Here's hoping you all enjoyed this pic as much as I enjoyed making it. And remember; every country has mummies, so you're not safe anywhere!

BONUS QUESTION: Are mummies your favorite monster?

MAY THE GLASSES BE WITH YOU!

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gallusrostromegalus · 4 years ago

Note

If you ever want to do a "Top 10 home gardening tomato cultivars" segment, I'm here for it. (My folks mostly plant Early Girls, but they have a ridiculously short growing season up there. I grow Sweet 100s, because they taste good enough and I gave up on growing anything other than cherries due to bastard squirrels who like to take exactly one bite out of larger tomatoes.)

IT IS NOW TIME TO INFO DUMP

CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED

Ok so the actual thing with tomatoes is there are- checks google- about 10,000 tomato cultivars out there and every single one of them is different, so you should tailor your tomato breeds to what you actually want to do with them. 10K is a lot a breeds to break down, but fortunately, there are ways to Do That:

1. Determinate vs. Indeterminate

Determinate tomatoes grow to a genetically predetermined size and start fruiting. Pros: Tends to have a short time between planting and fruiting, don’t get bigger than a certain size if you only have so much space. Cons: Once they’re done fruiting, that’s it. you really only get the one crop out of them. Also tend to have sad, watered-down flavor.

Indeterminate tomatoes grow as big as the space will let them, and start fruting when they get around to it. Pros: Maximum Plant for minimum investment, which can be like 10x as big as a determinate plant. Will KEEP fruiting until it gets too cold, so if you can get it in a pot you can move inside you could potentially still be harvesting tomatoes after thanksgiving like my MIL was this year. If you live somewhere warm like SoCal or AZ, you could keep it alive all year. Cons: MUCH longer time between planting and fruiting. Indeterminate tomates Get there when they get there. Also may be more prone to disease and pests than the more-modified determinate plants.

There are determinate and indeterminate tomatoes in all 5 of the Greater Tomato Archetypes. Speaking of:

2. The 5 Tomato Archetypes

I’m so good at segues!

So tomatoes come in 5 basic types, each which is generally better for something culinary than the others. You CAN substitute different types of tomato but your food generally doesn’t come out as good.

1. Cherry: Cherry tomatoes produce fruits that are about the size of cherries. Some people put Grape and Saladette tomatoes in here but they are WRONG, both of those belong in the “Round/All-Purpose” group because Cherry tomatoes specifically have thinner skins, more soluable pectin, and more dissolved glutemates, which means they cook VERY differently. Cherry tomatoes also produce a shitload of fruits at a time and might be some of the heaviest producers. Tend to be more heat-tolerant. Good For: Fresh tomato sauces (i.e. takes less than 20 minutes to make), salads, snacking on directly off the vine like you are a small tarsier discovering a hidden bounty of fruit.

Top reccomendations are: -Indigo Cherry or Dwarf Black Krim if you can find it. I always reccomend dark-pigmented tomatoes as I find they have better flavor, pest resistence and UV tolerance. Taste fruity but not over-sweet and Very Tomato-y. -Sweet 100/Super-Sweet 100/Sweet Millions: All varietals of the same mass-producing Cherry Tomato. Makes absolute buckets of Tomatoes, sweeter and more fruity than the Indigo cherry, good disease resistence and long growing season.

2. Paste: Paste tomatoes are thin-skinned, meaty and soft tomatoes that... well, they make good tomato paste, the basis for all long-cooking tomato sauces and recipies. They tend to be kind of Oblong and sometimes grow in fun extras like lil tomato “dicks” or weird cthulian shapes, but this doesn’t effect the flavor or nutrition There’s a shitload of great varietals in this category, I’ve yet to hear of a Bad Paste Tomato, just Less Excellent ones. Good For: Long-cooking Tomato-based dishes like: Bolognese, chili, ketchup, BBQ etc. Also can and freeze well.

Top Reccomendations are: -Amish Paste: MEATY, and well-suited for growing in a variety of conditions. Paste is smooth and velvety. Good for Chili, BBQ and Bolognese. -Opalka tomato: Russian Tomato, little more on the acidic side, grows well in places prone to surprise late frosts. Paste isn’t as smooth but very thick. makes great ketchup. -San Marzano: THE tomato for making Marinara Sauce (also does good bolognese). Sweeter and lighter, with a slightly runnier paste that clings well to pasta. cans and freezes excellently, does well in places with HOT summers.

3. Beef: Beef tomatoes are BIG motherfuckers that kind of take a long time to grow but are very rewarding. Beef tomatoes are firm, have a very solid meat and are best eaten raw, typically sliced onto a sandwich or seared under a broiler for a NZ Mousetrap. Not only are the fruits big but so are the Plants, so they take a long time to reach maturity and the fruit takes FOREVER to ripen but if you like a sandwich, they can’t be beat. Also they look hella impressive on instagram. They also tend to be more prone to Blossom End Rot (which is just a calcium deficiency- just make sure to fertilize with some eggshells and don’t over-water them), and despite the size, don’t tolerate cold well. Good for: Slicing on sandwiches, eating raw like you’re biting into the still-beating heart of your nemesis and enjoying that sweet, sweet revenge, searing quickly under a broiler or putting on a Kabob.

Top Reccomendations Are: -Brandywine: Hefty, great fresh tomato flavor, and PINK. -Big Zac: Goddamn Massive Tomato. A Real Heckin’ Chonker. meatier flavor and lots of firm flesh with few seeds. -Beefmaster: One problem with Beef tomatoes is that a lot of them are heirloom varietals that aren’t as widely available. Of the ones that are easy to get your hands on, Beefmaster is the best, but it lacks the flavor punch of Brandywine or Big Zac, but it’s not a BAD tomato.

4. Round/Early/All-Purpose: The Workhorse of Tomatoes, the Round Tomato does it all- sauces, salsa, sandwiches, salads, and snacks. But it doesn’t do them quite as well as the other, more specialized tomatoes. Also, some of these tomatoes have been Over-Worked and bred to fruit early and transport well, at the expense of it’s Flavor. I’M TALKING ABOUT YOU, EARLY GIRL AND BETTER BOY, YOU FLAVORLESS TENNIS BALLS, YOU INSULTS TO THE MIGHTY HOUSE OF NIGHTSHADES. Love yourself, don’t get Early Girl or Better Boy. If your season is too short for anything but the earliest of tomatoes, it may be better to grow Something Else than put all that effort in for Disappointment. That said, there are many types of Round/All-Purpose tomatoes that haven’t been overbred into corporate blandness, and I can reccomend them in good concisence if you’re not totally sure what you want to do with your tomatoes: Good For: Indecisive people, people just learning how to grow plants, using one plant for a variety of purposes, people who are not yet prepared to enter the world of Tomato Opinions. Top reccomendations are: -If you really must have an early-fruiting tomato, the Wayahead is an heirloom that people swear comes in early with good size, flavor and firm structure. I have not personally tied this varietal but people I trust like it. -Black Krim: GOD-TIER TOMATO. It’s got it all- flavor, high yields, firm structure, pest and disease resistence, fucking purple stripes. Cans Well, Freezes well, seeds well and breeds true. Fuck yes. Other tomatoes fucking WISH they had what this Hot Bitch has. -Invincible is a damn-hard-to-kill tomato that isn’t very large but fruits reliably and preforms well all around. it also ripens 3 fruits at a time so you’re not constantly overburdened with Tomato. Probably my top pick for beginners that need an Emotional Support Crop.

5. Fun: This is not, strictly speaking, a traditional type of tomato, but I feel like it’s an important category for people who want to do something different or really enjoy all Tomatoes have to offer. Good For: Trying new things, taunting the garden gods with my hubris, showing off at the garden FB group, discovering new flavors of plant.

Top Reccomendations: -Mr. Stripey: it has a goofy name, it’s yellow-and-pink striped, and it smells and tastes almost exactly like pineapple, but it doesn’t try to digest you back. I love it. -Japanese Truffle: Dark Brown tomato that looks like someone tried to make ferro rochers at home and bungled it, and has a LONG maturation time, BUT it’s got a chocolately flavor and even at maturity has green insides which give it this. Lightness? it’s hard to describe but it’s a fascinating flavor. The plant also is more branched and elegant than most tomatoes. Very different, very cool. -I have not personally tried Cherokee Purple but I have heard good things about it. We’ll see how it does in the garden this year. -Tomatillos and Ground Cherries: Not actually tomatoes, but closely related. Neat herbaceous sort of flavor, like thyme but to the left. Also comes in a fun Organic wrapping paper. -Ketchup ‘n’ Fries: a Sweet 100 tomato top grafted onto Kennebec Potato rootstock, so it grows both tomato AND potato! Grafting was invented prbably about a week after the concept of agriculture was, and consists of taking two or more closely related plants and taping a cutting of oone into a hole in the other until the plants heal together. Like that one gorilla-dude from Umbrella academy, but without the angst. You can get them pre-made or attempt to make them at home if you’re feeling adventurous and are OK with potentially killing a bunch of starts while you learn.

Good Luck and Happy Gardening!

#Long post #tomatoes #the garden of earthly HOA violations #njelruch

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

Text

Fracture

i apologise in advance.

Miya Osamu x female reader

TW non-con, dub-con, psuedo-infidelity, referenced character death, angst, drunk reader, gaslighting, age gap, the slightest hint of nsfw

‘Yer still coming home for summer, right?’

How many weeks had your sister spent lovingly bullying you into coming down? How many hours had you spent listening to her gush over the phone about how excited she was?

And until about three months ago, you’d been excited too.

Despite the ten or so years between the two of you, there was nobody on earth you loved more than your sister. When you were sixteen years old and your parents passed away in a car accident, she was the one who stepped up to take care of you, putting a roof over your head, making sure you ate, slept and kept up your grades, balancing two jobs to do it.

And she grumbled and you fought, but she’s the only reason you managed to keep it all together enough to graduate high school, and when it came time for you to leave home for university, she was the one blinking back tears and loudly complaining about you ‘abandoning your poor older sister in her time of need’.

As if she hadn’t sat with you for hours, pouring over your options and gently nudging you in the direction of Tokyo.

“It’s just a few hours away,” you’d told her. “I’ll come back and visit you all the time.”

There was truth to that. The first six months of uni, you came home every other weekend arms full of expensive textbooks and mountains of assignments to write, but then she met Osamu.

You’ve never seen anybody fall so hopelessly in love as quickly as she had. Miya Osamu may as well have hung the damn moon in the sky for how your sister looked at him. And you suppose you can’t really blame her; he was stupidly tall, broad shouldered and handsome. Even back then his restaurant was a wild success, the man was talented and clearly knew how to cook. Nice was the wrong word to describe him, but Miya Osamu was good, and so long as he made your sister happy, that was enough for you.

And it wasn’t like he was the one to drive you away.

Osamu liked you – he let you camp out in his restaurant and work on your assignments when you desperately needed a change of scenery, stopping to humour you with conversation if it was quiet. He made you laugh, he was interesting, and the more your sister brought him around, the more you realised that you actually kinda liked the guy.

Things were just easy between the two of you, you never had to pretend to be anything but what you were.

You were the one who started putting space between you and her. It wasn’t intentional, at least not on their part, but somewhere along the way you’d started to realise that Osamu wasn’t the odd one out anymore; you were. She was building a life with him, and fortnightly visits turned into monthly ones, and then eventually it became once every few months and after that only on holidays and special occasions – their wedding being one of them.

At Christmas, cheeks flushed with alcohol, she’d pulled you into a one armed hug, pouting into your sweater. “You never come visit us anymore,” she’d sniffled dramatically, “I miss you.”

But it was Osamu – fingers laced with your sister’s, a hint of a smile curling at his lips – who’d voiced it. “Come spend yer summer break with us.”

Three months later you’d awoken to a call telling you that there’d been an accident. Your sister was dead.

Weeks pass by in a blur. Your classes are a haze of droning voices and mindless typing, you submit papers you don’t remember writing and you get good marks anyway. Your friends don’t know how to act around you, everything feels surreal, like you’re moving around in a dream, nothing touches you anymore. It hurts, but you’ve wrapped up that pain and put it someplace safe, seeking it out only when you’re alone and you just can’t bear the numbness a second longer.

The trip you’d promised to take back home to Osaka is the furthest thing from your mind, at least until Osamu calls you in the early hours of the morning, a week or so before the semester ends.

“Yer still coming home for summer, right?”

The word ‘no’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. The last time you’d seen each other was at the funeral, his face blank and hollow, eyes rimmed in red. He’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to you, but he’d stayed by your side the entire time, calmly thanking those who came up to express their condolences.

You’d lost your sister, but he’d lost his wife.

“Do you still want me to?” you ask him quietly instead. If you were in his shoes, you’re not so sure that you would.

Yet Osamu sighs heavily, and you catch a faint clinking sound on the other end of the line, like a bottle being set back against the marble countertop. “I just–” but he breaks off and something inside of your chest tugs. “I want ya here. The house is empty… she’s gone and I… I want ya here. Please.”

How could you possibly say no after that? Maybe you’ve been selfish, so wrapped up in your own grief and misery. You’d assumed that because Osamu had Atsumu he’d be okay. Not right away, of course, but he’d have that support around him – a support system that you were without.

It didn’t enter your mind that perhaps he was struggling too. That he was spending night after night alone in a house etched with memories of her. And just as you’d thought that Tsumu was the one keeping his head above water, maybe he was offering a hand to do the same for you.

—

He’s waiting for you on the porch when your taxi pulls up on the kerb. The driver’s nice enough to help you with your bags, but Osamu is quick to intercept, waving off the help with an impatient huff that almost makes you laugh.

“Yer here,” he says once he sets them down on the porch, grinning as he tugs you into a warm embrace.

It’s then that you get a good look at him, a proper look – and for a moment, you’re taken aback. You haven’t seen him since the funeral a few months back, granted, but Osamu doesn’t look the way you imagined him to – especially after your call the other night. There’s no hint of pallid skin, no bloodshot eyes with heavy bags underneath or a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. No, even with his dark hair still a mess, dressed in jeans and his Onigiri Miya tee, Osamu looks good. Healthy even, if the way the sleeves of his shirt cling to his biceps is any indication.

It takes you a second to realise that you’re staring, because Samu chuckles, brushing past you to bring your stuff inside.

“Y’know, most people start with a hello,” he calls over his shoulder.

Your cheeks heat, a hint of shame curling inside of you. Were you expecting him to be an inconsolable wreck? You know better than most that grief messes with people differently, and it’s not fair of you to judge him, however unintentionally, for not fitting that image of the grieving husband.

It’s a good sign.

“Hi, Samu,” you reply somewhat sheepishly, following him inside.

He’s already walking towards your old bedroom, the ‘guest room’ now (though you and he both know it’s always been yours), leaving you to trail behind the older man. Your intention is to stop him from going to too much effort, but as you walk past the living room, something catches your eye.

Or rather, the absence of something. Faltering in your step, it takes you a second to realise what’s missing, but as you glance around, brows furrowing in confusion, it hits you.

The pictures of you and your sister, the cute ones with her and Samu, the old family snaps that used to line the walls and sit on the TV unit, they’re gone. And it’s not just the pictures. The artwork your sister had painted that used to hang by the wall next to the kitchen, the little pot plants she’d doted on like children, hell, the throw that she’d knitted one winter that was always lying on the couch; they’re all gone.

The room feels almost alien without them, unfamiliar and cold. He’d hung up some cool photography stuff to fill in some of the spaces, but instead of homey it just felt… modern. Like the pictures you see in magazines of staged houses that nobody actually lives in.

And you must have been standing there for a while, because you don’t notice it when Samu comes back to find you still holding your purse, gazing around like a lost child.

“I didn’t get rid of ‘em, if that’s what yer thinking.”

You turn to face him, except Osamu isn’t looking at you. He’s gazing at the walls around you both, his face strangely impassive – except for his eyes. It’s impossible for you to miss the hurt that swims there, the faint sheen they didn’t hold only moments ago. “I packed them away – they’re in yer room if ya want to look through any of it, it’s just…” he trails off, finally glancing back to look at you. And once again, you feel that flicker of guilt slowly eating away at you. “It was painful, seeing her face everywhere.”

Before you left your apartment that morning, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t cry today – but the tears come unbidden, and one moment you’re standing there staring at him and the next you’re choking on a sob, hand coming to your lips to try and stifle it.

Osamu’s there in a second, solid arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He doesn’t say a word (what’s there to say anymore?) he just hums softly, stroking your back with a gentle hand as you fall apart once more.

—

It’s surprisingly easy for the two of you to fall into a rhythm. There’d been some part of you that was hesitant about this whole thing – despite having a relatively good relationship with your brother in law, you knew that the only real connection between the two of you was your sister.

Without her, living in the same space and trying to navigate around the holes that she’d left, you’d expected it to be at least a little awkward between the two of you. But with Osamu working full time, it was kind of a non-issue. Aside from the first day when he’d taken the morning off to help you get settled, he was usually gone before you woke up, and most nights he wasn’t home until nine or ten. How he worked such long hours six days a week without collapsing out of sheer exhaustion was beyond you, but you tried to make things easier for him, cooking dinner for the two of you.

“Y’know ya don’t have to do this every night, right?” he asks you one night, sticking the leftover chicken into the microwave. “I have a restaurant, I can sort out my own dinner.”

You don’t tell him that despite being a rather terrible cook, it was one of the things your sister made sure to do every night in the weeks following your parents’ death. You’d spend most of your day holed up in your room if you weren’t at school, but dinner was the one time you’d sit and talk with her. It became a ritual; something sacred and special between the two of you.

You’re a better cook than she was by far, no comparison for Osamu, of course, but it’s the only way you really know how to help with… whatever this is.

Instead, you just offer him a wry look from your position on the couch, “And yet, you never do.”

He scoffs at that, a hint of a smirk curling at his lips, “Why would I eat there when I know yer cookin’ for me?”

—

Of course, as easy as it is to slip into living with Osamu, you can’t escape what happened there forever.

It doesn’t slip your notice the first night you spend there; the spare toothbrush in your bathroom, the decidedly masculine body wash in the shower, or how one of the shelves in the vanity was stocked with shaving cream and cologne and a few odd skin care products. You’d assumed that they were Atsumu’s, spares stashed away for the odd nights he crashed here. There’s another bathroom off the master bedroom, so you know it can’t be Samu’s stuff.

Except you find yourself proven wrong one night, when fresh from your shower and clad only in a fluffy white towel, you open the door to find a shirtless Osamu filling the space, one arm propped up on the doorframe.

“Anyone ever tell ya yer a bit of a bathroom hog?” he asks, smirking down at you.

And you’re so taken aback, utterly confused as to why he’s standing there half dressed, why it matters how long you take in the bathroom – never mind that the only thing covering you from complete nakedness is your towel – that you can only stand there, gaping like a fish as he laughs, takes you by the shoulders and physically shifts you out of the way as he slides on past.

It takes you until the following morning – Osamu’s sole day off – to ask him about it, clutching nervously at your cup of coffee while he busies himself making breakfast for the two of you.

“Samu, um, about last night…” you timidly begin.

He glances up at you from the stove, a single eyebrow raised. “What about it?”

Your cheeks are already burning, eyes darting between his face and the mug in your hands as you struggle to find the right words to bring it up without making things weird. “Well, I-I was just wondering… um, why you were using my bathroom?”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction that you’re expecting, but the dark look that flashes across his face isn’t it. For a split second, your insides clench, terrified that you’ve said the wrong thing–

But as quickly as it appeared, Osamu’s expression smooths over. He exhales heavily, setting down the spoon in his hand as he turns to face you properly, and when your eyes flicker up once more, you realise with a start that it’s pity that’s taken its place.

And a second too late, the pieces inside your head fall into place.

“Oh.”

Osamu nods only once. “I can’t go in without seeing her lyin’ there… I thought ya knew.”

And it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. She’d died in their bathroom – slipped on the wet tiles and cracked her head open on the edge of their bath, and Samu had been the one to find her.

Weakly your eyes flutter shut, bitter nausea churning in your gut. How could he stay here, sleep in the next room when–

“Hey, hey, calm down, I gotcha,” Samu’s voice is at your ear, and your head’s spinning, pounding, and you can’t breathe. The mug in your hand tumbles to the floor, your coffee spilling across the wooden floorboards as weak fingers clutch at empty air, and then those arms are around you once more and Osamu’s trying to soothe you.

Breakfast is forgotten as he tugs you towards the couch to sit. And as he holds you, speaks to you in that calm, unwavering voice you try to focus on the scent of him (masculine and earthy, a hint of spice and cedar), the fabric of his shirt under your cheek and the gentle, almost lazy circles he rubs into your side and not the mental image of your sister, lying broken and bleeding on the bathroom floor.

—

It doesn’t take much effort to find the stash of your sister’s things that Samu set aside in your room. You lose hours flicking through pictures of her, smiling through your tears as they dredge up old, happy memories of the two of you.

Even the ones of her and Samu, his arms looped around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head; she’s always wearing that bright grin that makes your heart ache.

There are a few of the three of you – one from the last time they’d come to visit you in Tokyo and you’d dragged them off to Disneyland. You’re standing between the two of them, beaming at the camera while Samu’s arm hangs off your shoulder and your sister, grinning widely and wearing the minnie mouse ears she’d bought at the first opportunity, tosses up a peace sign.

Softly wiping away your tears, you set it aside. You’ll have to ask Samu if you can take that one home with you.

—

“What’re ya doin’ tomorrow?”

It’s late, and the two of you are sprawled out on the couch, watching TV with a bowl of snacks between you like the old days when he asks.

“Not much,” you reply. “I was going to go to the markets at some point in the morning and maybe head to the beach after that, why?”

Grey-ish brown eyes flicker across to you, “A few of my old teammates are in town, we’re meetin’ up for some drinks. I want ya to come with me.”

“Oh,” the word slips out before you can stop yourself. “Um, yeah… if you want?”

It ends up sounding more like a question, a fact that doesn’t slip past Osamu if the amused little snort he gives in response is any indication. And it’s not that you don’t want to give up your plans in favour of going with him; you get along pretty well with Atsumu and you’ve met most of his old teammates at least once or twice, it’s just that you’re a little confused as to why he’d want you there to begin with.

They’re all at least twelve years older than you, and while it occurs to you that maybe he’s just inviting you along to be polite (not that that’s ever been his style before) the last thing you want is to be stuck feeling like an afterthought, all but ignored as he and his friends catch up.

“I said I wanted ya there, didn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for a response, “‘sides, Tsumu already asked if you were comin’.”

Which is how you find yourself dressed up for the first time in months, fingers smoothing out the hem of your dress as Samu tosses you a lazy grin from the driver’s seat. “Relax, wouldja? They ain’t gonna bite.”

You know that. They’re good guys, but no matter how much rationalising you try to do, you can’t seem to quell the anxiety eating you up, and the frustrating thing is that you don’t know why you’re feeling it.

He’d neglected to tell you that they weren’t meeting at some bar or restaurant, but at Atsumu’s condo in the city (‘Showy fuckin’ bastard’ Samu’d huffed as he’d pulled up in front of the building), but you suppose it really doesn’t make much of a difference.

“Ya look good,” he compliments, eyeing you for a moment while the two of you wait for the elevator.

Cheeks warming, you drop your gaze and stutter out a quiet thank you. Apparently unsatisfied, he leans closer, reaching one large hand up to gently ruffle your hair – grinning in satisfaction when you shriek and try to pry it away. “Relax,” he whispers again, the warmth of his breath tickling the bare skin of your neck. “Yer too wound up.”

Distracted by the arrival of the elevator, you fail to notice that instead of returning back to his side, his hand drops to your shoulder.

And it should be easier to do just that once you have a drink in hand. Atsumu greets you with a one armed hug, the only hint of anything out of the ordinary being the way his gaze lingers a beat too long as he studies your face, his eyes sharp and missing nothing. But whatever he sees (or doesn’t see) his expression softens into a smile, “Glad ya came.”

But even as you’re greeted by the others, falling into an easy conversation with Kita and Aran you can’t seem to shift the uneasiness in your stomach. There’s something in the air, a tension nobody really wants to admit to.

And you can’t quite tell if the others are surprised that Samu brought you at all, or if it’s just because you’re a living reminder of a tragedy that’s still fresh and raw, and everyone’s trying to pretend that it’s not. You don’t blame them for it, of course, they only mean the best. But you can see it in the way Suna side eyes you every now and then, how skilfully Akagi skirts anything that could touch a nerve when he comes up to chat.

It’s like they’re all walking on eggshells – though whether it’s for your benefit or Osamu’s, you’re not entirely sure. For his part, Samu sticks close, keeping your drink topped up, an arm slung over your shoulders as the afternoon wears into the evening.

Yet despite that, the alcohol you’re drinking far too quickly starts to work its magic, filling your body with a warm, pleasant little buzz, and you actually start to enjoy yourself. You laugh easier, giggling when the twins start to bicker, gasping in wicked delight when Suna offers to show you certain embarrassing photos of both of them on his phone (he has quite the collection), even letting Gin and Tsumu drag you into taking shots with them.

And all the while, Samu watches you, a soft smirk playing at his lips.

—

By the time he unlocks the front door and you stumble back inside, you’re absolutely plastered, giggling at nothing and tripping over your own feet.

As always, Samu’s there to catch you, strong, muscular arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Careful there, princess,” he laughs.

You grin up at him, carefree and heartbreakingly beautiful. For the first time in months you feel light, you feel amazing and you don’t want this to end. Kicking your heels off, you skip inside, leading him by the hand. “Samu,” you call back over your shoulder. “I wanna dance.”

“Nobody’s stopping ya.”

“But there’s no music,” you pout, and once again he chuckles, letting you go to settle back into the leather couch as he pulls out his phone. A moment later a familiar, lively melody floods the living room, and you let yourself become lost to it. It doesn’t matter that you’re drunk and dancing alone, Samu’s dark eyes following your every move, you’ve never felt so free.

Arms raised in the air, hips swaying hypnotically to the beat, you lose track of time. It could’ve been minutes or seconds or a whole hour, but suddenly you’re not alone anymore – Samu’s there with you. His cologne invades your senses, why does he always smell so good? His body’s warm, almost hot as he slots himself behind you, caging you against him.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice sending shivers running down your spine. “Yer a little tease, ya know that?”

And there’s something wrong with that, you know there is, but you can’t seem to think of what it is – not when the weight of his hold’s impeding your movement. A pout adorns your face, a soft, almost petulant whine escaping your lips as you try in vain to untangle yourself, “Samu, lemme go. I wanna dance.”

He huffs out a laugh, but that doesn’t sound right either. “Don’t wanna dance with you, pretty girl.”

There’s something hard pressing against your lower back, and his hot breath ghosts over your neck a moment before lips descend to suck on the sensitive flesh.

In a split second, all that blissful, warm, drunken happiness evaporates. Samu groans lowly, his chest rumbling at your back, but there’s a pit of something cold and urgent that’s seeping through your veins, distant, foggy alarm bells tolling inside of your head and you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it.

You want it to stop.

“S-Samu,” you whine, shifting uncomfortably against his hold.

This time he listens, drawing back just enough that he can turn you around to face him. And those familiar eyes are hooded and dark, burning with an intensity that makes you want to recoil even as he stares down at you, taking your cheek in hand.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until his thumb’s brushing away your tears. There’s nothing comforting or pleasant (nothing of the Samu you know) on his face as he studies your fearful expression, but eventually he lets out a heavy sigh.

“She was positive I was cheatin’ on her,” he admits. “Did she ever tell ya that?” He pauses for a beat waiting for a reply, but when it’s clear that you don’t have one for him, he just scoffs, “No, ‘course not. That’d be admitting that not everything about our life was picture perfect, and heaven fuckin’ forbid we do that. Y’know, that's why she wanted ya back here so bad. She needed a buffer.”

Bitterness clings to every word like poison and you flinch, renewing your struggles to get away. Not that he lets you – the moment you start to squirm the arm around your waist tugs you closer, anchoring you against him. The tears come faster, followed by soft, hiccuping sobs, but Samu seems beyond caring at that point.

“Stupid bitch never could see what was right in front of her face. That’s what we were fightin’ about that night; she said she was gonna leave me.”

Your heart clenches, fear pooling in your gut, but Samu just smiles at you, a mockery of sweet tenderness, reaching back to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “But you know I’d never hurt my pretty girl, don’t ya, baby?” he asks. “Just want a taste tonight.”

You don’t even have time to suck in a breath before he’s kissing you, cradling the back of your head as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

And all you can taste is the whiskey on his tongue.

—

You can’t tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, the faint, reddish blemish colouring your neck.

A hickey.

Tentatively, as if trying to prove that it’s real and not a figment of your imagination, you prod at the mark, only to wince at the tenderness. Definitely real.

You’d woken up to an empty house – unsurprising considering it was well past ten and you knew Osamu had work today – with your head pounding and your mouth uncomfortably dry. Wracking your brain, you can’t seem to conjure up a rational explanation for the bruise. Granted, you can’t really remember much of last night, only fragments of being at Atsumu’s place, and certainly nothing after you’d started taking those shots.

Which doesn’t make the uneasiness sitting heavy in your stomach any easier to take, because you know that you hadn’t been cosying up to anybody before you’d lost track of the night, and if it had happened after, then surely Samu or one of the others would have stepped in and put a stop to it.

And that should’ve been more of a comforting thought than it was, because if it didn’t happen at Atsumu’s then that meant it happened afterwards, when you were here with Samu.

Your heart thumps unevenly against your ribs.

Osamu. Your dead sister’s husband, your brother in law.

A hickey on your neck isn’t just a kiss. It’s not a simple, drunken peck against your lips, it meant that somebody had sucked on the skin, bitten at it, kissed until blood vessels broke – it’s not the kind of thing that happens accidentally.

A wave of nausea threatens to overtake you, and you barely manage to make it to the bathroom before you’re violently emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl. And you know as you collapse onto the cool tiled floor, shaking just a little, that this time at least, the alcohol isn’t to blame.

You know Samu; you trust him implicitly. Whatever happened, it must have been a mistake or something. You’d both been drinking, and he’s still grieving and–

There’s no point jumping to conclusions or working yourself up any more than you already have. You’ll just bring it up with him when he gets home, you decide.

Yet anxiety and guilt gnaw at you as the hours crawl by, you’re half tempted to pick up your phone and just call him to ask point blank. The clock feels like it’s mocking you every time you glance up, and while you try your best to distract yourself with household chores and then busying yourself with dinner, none of it works for long.

By the time he does stride through the door, a little before ten, you’re an anxious wreck, all but wringing your fingers as you sit rigid and tense at the table. Most nights you eat before he gets home, hunger getting the better of you, but tonight you don’t seem to have much of an appetite.

“Smells good,” he comments with an easy grin, toeing off his shoes and dropping his wallet and keys by the door.

You open your mouth, but the words seem to get stuck in your throat as he drops a kiss down on the top of your head and walks on past to grab a bowl from the kitchen.

“I’m starving.”

Instead, you just swallow nervously as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits, not wasting another second before digging in. Your eyes quickly dart over to study him, but you don’t see any hint of guilt or unease on his face. He just looks like the same old Samu, a little tired maybe, but otherwise totally normal, and so you force yourself to pick up your spoon and follow suit.

And he’s never been one to fill silences with meaningless chatter, but tonight the quiet between the two of you feels oppressive, every clink of metal against ceramic echoing too loudly, every chew, every swallow setting you on edge. You can’t even taste the food, your stomach too twisted in knots for you to feel anything but nauseous after a few bites.

“… Is everything okay?” he asks after a few minutes, and it’s so sudden amongst the tense silence that you visibly jerk, almost dropping the spoon you’d been toying with.

You glance up to find him staring, brows furrowed in concern, and once again your stomach flips. It’s now or never.

“Um… did anything happen last night?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Osamu’s frown deepens fractionally, and he tilts his head as your fingers twist in your lap, “What d’ya mean?”

Did we kiss? The words dangle on the tip of your tongue, but as you nervously meet his eyes, you find nothing but confusion and concern there. And for a moment, you almost speak them, but then Samu’s reaching across the table to take your hand in his, and as his warm palm swallows up yours, you lose your nerve.

“You sure yer okay?”

Whatever happened, he doesn’t remember it and neither do you.

Smiling tightly, you nod. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Nevermind.”

There’s no reason for you to drag him through the mud for this, you’re already feeling enough guilt and shame for the both of you.

—

You try to put it out of your mind, but it’s not that easy.

Lying awake in bed at night, your brain unwittingly turns over possibilities of what else could’ve caused the mark if not Osamu. Guilt gnaws at you every second that you’re around him and all the while he’s painfully oblivious to it all.

He’s always been affectionate with you, but all those stray, unthinking touches now carry a different weight with them. You find yourself ducking away from them more often than not, pretending that you don’t see the almost wounded look in those greyish-brown eyes when you do. You start to avoid him, finding other places to be whenever he’s home.

And you hate yourself for it, because Osamu’s been nothing but faithful to your sister for as long as you’ve known him. You’re the one acting like there’s something wrong between the two of you, like he’s treating you any differently than he always has when you know that’s not the case.

You know that, but when you catch sight of the fading bruise in the mirror, your stomach twists into knots all the same.

There are excuses and justifications aplenty, but none of them make you feel any better. You still find yourself sniffling into your pillow, swallowed up by your guilt when you imagine how devastated your sister would be if she knew.

You’d let her husband kiss you. Being drunk and miserable and grieving didn’t change that. Whether he knew it was you or mistook you for her; it doesn’t matter. Maybe it was a mistake, letting him talk you into coming.

Things were still too raw, too fresh. You’d thought that coming here would help, but so far it’s only made everything worse, and unintentionally or not, you can’t kid yourself that your presence is doing anything to help Osamu anymore.

You need to go back to Tokyo.

Somewhat selfishly, you’re tempted to put it off until the weekend, because you know that Onigiri Miya has a stall for the beginning of the summer festival and he’ll be too preoccupied with that to think about anything else – but you just can’t bring yourself to do that to him.

No, it’s better to rip it off like a bandaid; nice and quick.

You’d planned on breaking the news over dinner, but as you pick your way through your noodles, you notice that Samu’s quieter than he usually is. Every time you risk a glance up he’s staring at the table, looking entirely lost in thought, and it just doesn’t feel like the right time to bring it up.

Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll cook his favourite for dinner and tell him then.

—

The knocking startles you from your sleep with a jolt. It’s quiet, hesitant almost, but you’ve always been a light sleeper.

“Samu?” you croak out, fumbling blindly for the phone at your bedside to see what time it is.

The door opens, a crack of light from the hallway spilling into your room as Osamu looks in. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I know it’s late, but I need to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’.”

He’s shirtless, clad only in a pair of cotton pyjama pants, but he doesn’t look to be in any immediate kind of trouble. Still, he wouldn’t have disturbed you in the middle of the night if it wasn’t something important, so you blearily wipe the sleep from your eyes and force yourself to sit up as he slips into your room and shuts the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

He hasn’t bothered to turn on the light, and even with the moonlight streaming in through your window, his face is cast in shadow as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. And it’s silly, especially considering he’s the one who’s shirtless right now but it’s hard not to flush at the realisation that you’re only wearing a thin, satiny slip. You feel almost naked – he’s seen you in bikinis before, but it feels different here, when he’s the one in your bedroom.

“You asked me the other day about what happened the night we went to Tsumu’s,” he begins, his voice quiet and soft in the early hours of the morning, and suddenly your state of dress is the last thing on your mind.

Swallowing tightly, your pulse quickens and you still, waiting for him to continue.

And you feel, rather than see, the way he stares at you, inching a fraction closer when you don’t immediately answer. “And I lied. Or I didn’t exactly tell ya the full truth.”

“Which is?” you force out.

Samu’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep, slow breath in and exhales heavily. “You were drunk and ya came onto me, tried to kiss me.” You flinch, a choked sound escaping your throat at the blunt admission, but he’s quick to reach for you, his hand coming to rest on your knee, squeezing it reassuringly. “And in the heat of the moment, I let ya.”

Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but the moment you try to turn away from him, biting your lip and trying to blink back the tears, he stops you.

“Osamu–”

“‘Cause I’ve spent years waiting to kiss those lips, an’ I’m tired of pretending we both don’t want this.”

And he’s kissing you; soft and sweet and gentle, his lips molding to yours as he cups the back of your neck. You wonder if he can feel your pulse racing under his fingertips as he draws himself closer, groaning into your mouth.

It doesn’t matter that your hands are on his bare chest, pushing at him, hitting him – those muscles aren’t just for show; he’s immovable. The more you squirm, trying to extricate yourself so that you can plead with him to stop–

This is a mistake. A horrible, awful misunderstanding. He’s upset and grieving and not thinking clearly and you have to stop this.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

– the more his grip tightens until it starts to hurt and you’re whimpering into the kiss. Your tears are wetting his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, won’t stop and there’s a panic that rises within you every second that you’re entangled with him.

“Don’t do this,” he mutters, breaking the kiss as a sob rips its way free from your throat, “Don’t pretend ya don’t want this, baby. I know ya do. Stop being a little fuckin’ tease.”

He leans back in, intent on capturing your lips again, and in an act of desperation you reach for his face, cradling his cheek in your hand. “Samu, please,” you beg, wide, imploring eyes searching his face for any hint of a reprieve. “You’re scaring me. Stop, please, j-just for a second.”

Just a second, that’s all you need to try and snap him out of whatever the hell this is. One second.

Osamu stills, his face mere inches from your own, his body hovering atop yours. His breath, ragged and uneven, ghosts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, but you don’t dare move as he leans into the touch, grey eyes fluttering shut.

He sighs, the sound almost like a shiver. “Ya don’t need to be scared, ‘m gonna take good care of my girl.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, not as he forces himself onto you once more. You used to marvel a little at Osamu. Tall, handsome and strong, even in his mid thirties; Samu was fit. Now, straddling your waist, pinning your wrists to the wall with one hand, the other palming at your tits, he dwarfs you entirely. He isn’t impatient, not as he kisses you languidly, not as he slides the soft, satin up your thigh, revealing your underwear.

Your hiccuping sniffles aren’t enough to move him, you’re not strong enough to physically fight him off. He doesn’t pay the tearful, breathless pleas sobbed out between kisses any mind.

Osamu grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your front, lips brushing at the nape of your neck as he smooths your hair back, and you’re utterly helpless to stop him.

And as his hand runs down your side and he coaxes your hips up into the air, you almost wish that he was rough. Because this pretense of gentleness, glinting steel masquerading as silk – it’s too intimate, and you feel complicit.

Like you’re willing.

Like you want this with him.

An act of love as he tugs your panties down to your knees and hums in quiet satisfaction at the sight of your bare cunt, glistening just for him.

There’s a voice in your head telling you you should be screaming and kicking and snarling like a wild, feral thing, but Osamu’s grabbing at your ass, spreading it to get a better look, his thumb gliding along your slit and all you can think about is the picture he’d packed away, the one of the three of you at Disneyland.

Samu’s arm slung over your shoulder, and your sister’s bright smile.

He spits; a warm, fat glob of saliva hitting your pussy, and as it slowly dribbles down the only sound that leaves your lips is a soft, broken whine. You don’t fight him when he takes his cock in hand and guides the flushed head, pre-cum already oozing at the tip, along your cunt, you just lie there, a toy for him to move and manipulate however he wants.

“You’ll forgive me for this, I know ya will,” he murmurs, softly squeezing your hip just once as something thick and blunt presses at your entrance.

But it doesn’t matter, not as his cock sheaths itself inside of you with one hard, brutal thrust, because you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere osamu miya #yandere osamu x reader #yandere osamu #yandere osamu miya x reader #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: infidelity #angst #drunk reader #manipulation and gaslighting ahead y'all #dilf osamu

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aminiatureworld · 3 years ago

Text

Interest II

Characters: Kaeya, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,020

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometimes emotions can be confusing. In those times it can be easier to shut down. After all, wouldn’t finding the truth out be scarier?

In which the reader assumes their character is disinterested, and pulls away.

Author’s Note: I wrote a lot tonight! It was nice to write for multiple characters again, made me feel like the good old days, or something.

Hope I’m finally getting back on schedule and hope you enjoy!

Kaeya

If Kaeya flirted with you, he also flirted with all of Mondstadt; or so you kept telling yourself.

You liked the cavalry captain, you liked him a lot. It was easy to like him, as easy as breathing air. The thickets of romance, the awkward looks, the stilted conversations, the dying words. None of those things existed in Kaeya.

If there were roses there were thorns too, and though you tried to convince yourself that this emotion, this easiness was something good, there was a part of you that fought back at the idea. The reason things were so easy with Kaeya was because of one simple reason. He didn’t like you. Or not the way you liked him. Kaeya flirted with all of Mondstadt after all, and you were merely one library assistant in the middle of an entire country. Your existence wasn’t one for the history books. Not compared to the man that you’d managed to fall hopelessly in love with anyways.

At first you tried to ignore those voices, that cynical side of yourself that existed only, it seemed, to make you unhappy. You weren’t necessarily an optimist by nature, but you were a bit of a hopeless romantic, and flirting or not you at least hoped to get your point across. Delivering Kaeya’s library requests first, always going up to him at lunchtime to talk, even giving him a special gift for the Windbloom festival. You really did try, you didn’t think that the opposite could be argued. Still things continued on as relatively normal however, Kaeya’s flirting never seeming to grow particularly towards you. Eventually it became harder and harder to avoid the voice in your head sneering you were wasting your time. Or maybe you were just tired.

Either way the answer seemed to be obvious. You knew when the answer was to count your losses and move on, and surely this was one of those times. Kaeya wasn’t going to see you as a partner, he just wasn’t. That didn’t mean he wasn’t kind, or that your conversations with him weren’t lovely, or even that you weren’t still in love with him. Still, wasn’t it time to move on to kinder winds? You wanted a clean break, wanted an end to your painful waiting; didn’t want to experience that clench in your heart when you watched Kaeya flirting with someone else as the point just drove further and further home. You wanted reprieve, and the only way to do that was to admit the obvious. This wasn’t going to happen.

So you gave up, or did your best attempt at giving up. You still spoke to Kaeya, the gods knew you probably couldn’t stand not speaking to him. You still tried to keep as light as before, tried to retain the dynamic, for something was better than nothing. Yet your days of simply chasing after him were over, and as you settled into you schedule of new normalcy you found, though things weren’t necessarily easier, at least they seemed simpler. Besides, how much had really changed? Kaeya most likely didn’t notice.

“Kaeya, the manuscript you requested on Liyue trade history came in yesterday. There were also a few other things that came in, though Lisa told me they’re classified.”

“Oh Lisa, always a stickler for rules. Would you like to know what I requested?”

“Like you would actually tell me,” you snorted. “No, I’m fine. It’s none of my business.”

“Aw,” Kaeya pouted slightly, crossing his arms in front of him. He seemed to be doing that more often these days, though maybe you were simply imagining it. “Where’s your sense of adventure darling? You seemed to have lost it somewhere.”

“I’m just following rules,” you pointed out.

Something had shifted about the conversation at some point, and you were suddenly feeling an undercurrent that hadn’t been there before. Finding it uncomfortable you quickly removed the space between you and Kaeya, reaching out to place the brown paper wrapped books into his hands. Taking them Kaeya lifted an eyebrow. Turning around he went to put them on his desk.

The momentary reprieve in atmosphere you felt quickly died, as before you had time to turn around the cavalry captain was back, this time leaning closely towards you.

“What is it?” You asked. This was certainly Kaeya behavior, but it still startled you nonetheless.

“You’re acting funny.”

“What? I’m acting completely normal.”

“If you say so.”

But the tone conveyed that Kaeya didn’t agree one bit. A smirk painting his lips he turned around, though something bitter seemed to flash behind his eyes, and for a moment you wondered if he had somehow caught on to the secret you’d been hoping to keep to yourself.

After that things seemed to continue on as normal for a few weeks. If Kaeya’s books were secretly transgressive, they certainly weren’t doing anything actively, and life as an assistant librarian to the Knights of Favonius retained its languid, unhurried pace. Still a part of you had never forgotten about that weird snippet of conversation, one which was doing a surprisingly good job at eating away at you.

You were almost relieved when Kaeya brought the matter up again.

“Is something wrong darling?”

“You asked me that two weeks ago Kaeya.”

“Really? It’s been that long? I must be neglecting my duties,” he let out a careless sort of laugh, before his eyes steadied. “I was hoping that this time I might get a more honest answer.”

“So you think I’m lying to you when I’m saying nothing’s wrong?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m not! How could I be lying to both you and myself.”

“I find that doing such a thing is a surprisingly easy task. Nevertheless, even if you aren’t lying, there is something wrong.”

“And what would that thing be, Mr. Expert?” For some reason this conversation was aggravating you. Maybe because you couldn’t decide whether or not he was right.

“I don’t know, I was hoping you could tell me. I can’t say sorry for something I’m not aware of, I don’t know what I did. You do though. So the sooner you tell me what’s wrong the sooner things can go back to normal.”

“What do you mean by normal Kaeya? If anything this is more normal. Not that things have changed that much. I’m sorry I don’t deliver your books first, if that’s what you’re complaining about. But frankly, I don’t see what you’re so upset about? You’ve got plenty of other friends, so why are you complaining to me?”

Maybe it wasn’t your best use of logic, but your ability to circle around the focus of the conversation, the unspoken emotions that still burned through you, was somewhat lacking.

“This is not normal. I’m not talking about library books, I’m talking about friends. Or maybe avoidance. You’ve been avoiding me lately, even if you aren’t doing it completely. It wounds me, you know. My dearest companion, what did I do to earn their ire?”

“You did nothing.”

“That’s obviously a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” Kaeya voice was clipped, matching your same tone. Even now he was shifting himself to better fit the atmosphere in the room, something you normally valued so deeply.

“It’s not. It’s really not! That’s the problem Kaeya, don’t you see?” Tears that had threated the corners of your eyes were now burning across your vision, as your emotions finally broke through the paltry excuse for a dam you’d been building. “You’ve done nothing, you’ve never done anything. You’re always nice, and flirty, and a bit shameless. And that’s fine! It’s not your fault that you don’t feel like I feel for you. I don’t want to make you feel guilty. You flirt with everyone, and that’s fine. I don’t care! I really don’t. I don’t want to burden you. Still, can’t you just let me feel upset by it? Can’t you just let me give up? Do you know how painful it is not to give up? Why won’t you let me at least do that, but no! Instead you come in here talking about how everything’s different, as if I’ve offended you, or as if you worry would change anything. Of course it won’t! And it shouldn’t! But damn it Kaeya, I just want to be upset!”

By this time Kaeya had closed the space between you two, wrapping his arms around you and running soft, slightly cool, fingers through your hair. You nestled into him, despite yourself. You were so tired and so angry, and right now it didn’t really seem to matter who you cried on as long as you were crying on someone. Letting yourself be carried away by your emotions you let your ragged breathing unleash itself inside the walls of Kaeya’s office.

Eventually you calmed down. Though you expected Kaeya to step away when your breathing evened out, instead he remained there, continuing to run comforting fingers though you hair, his other hand gently cradling your shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was the reason.” It was simple, direct. Undeniably Kaeya.

“What else would be the reason,” you grumbled.

“I don’t know. It’s why I asked. Thank you for answering me.”

“You forced me into it.” There was no true venom behind your words. You were sure Kaeya knew that.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No.”

“Not yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“That’s alright. Now’s not the best time anyways, since I ought to look my best. Not that I don’t look amazing already, but I should dress up for an occasion such as that. Still, I hope that eventually you’ll allow yourself to live in a way that doesn’t make you unhappy. Sometimes we can’t do that. This time you can.”

“Maybe.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting for you darling, and you know how impatient I am.”

“What if you have to wait for a long time?” You were feeling quite contrary.

“Then I’ll wait. After all, I’ll have quite the reward for my patience.”

You smiled into Kaeya. Despite yourself, you knew it wouldn’t be that long.

Xiao

With Xiao, the question was always boundaries. How far is too far? How far is not far enough? It was an endless maze, even if it was a maze you would gladly continue to explore, sure that the light at the end must lead to something truly beautiful. Still, you didn’t exactly need your emotions to come in and complicate something already so difficult to navigate.

At first you tired to ignore, to take a page from the book the yaksha you’d so hopelessly fallen for had written. Yet if was much harder than it ought to be, for loving Xiao seemed to come as naturally as breathing, and no amount of looking for faults seemed to be doing much to change that. After all, everyone has faults, and nothing could change the innate goodness you saw in Xiao, the wonder and light that he carried with him, despite his millennia of hardships.

At first you thought to tell him, to cross that border, find that boundary and test it with all the patience it had taken to test and cross those other boundaries.

“Xiao?”

“Mmm.”

“I, I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

“I, I made you some Almond Tofu!”

Xiao let his eyes widen with characteristic surprise, before leaping down nimbly from his perch to take the dish you brought out from behind your back. You watched as he ate it happily, warmth running through your veins. Nevertheless a part of you cried in frustration, perhaps even pain, for you knew you had failed to do what you had set out to do.

It wasn’t simply that you feared losing Xiao’s friendship, feared losing his respect. It was the boundaries, those invisible lines you were so careful not to step over. Xiao needed those boundaries, you knew he did. Though he had told you very little about his past, what he had told was horrific, and you hardly doubted that Xiao’s survival, his failure to spin into madness, was because of those walls he’d carefully constructed around himself. You wanted him to shed those walls yes, to slowly emerge from the darkness which he held around himself. But you weren’t ready to push him to do so, or not very much at least. It wasn’t truly in your nature to do so anyways.

So you expressed your feelings as best you could, with tofu and flowers and all the kindness you had to offer. When you weren’t working, spending your time sewing for a high-end Liyue shop, you were with Xiao. A part of you assumed that it would be enough, that if you gave Xiao enough of your time and enough of your attention the barriers would magically break down. One day you’d wake up and they’d be gone and you’d be happy, having never pushed things too far.

As nothing truly seemed to change however you grew slowly discouraged. You weren’t really aware of your flagging hopes, not really. It was more that you were busy, you were so busy. Besides, Xiao hadn’t expressed much sadness over losing your company. Perhaps he was secretly relieved, perhaps you had pushed too far at some point and he hadn’t told you. Maybe it was best that you give his boundaries time, and not push it too far.

Even looking back it was hard not to call the logic sound, or at least sound to you. In some ways you and Xiao were cut of the same cloth, and though that brought with it an understanding, it also brought its own set of issues. Neither of you were willing to walk over the line that the other drew, even if you could not see where they had actually drawn it. Even if not doing so was painful, the fear of what pain might come if you did was too great a discouragement.

So you began to slowly fade away, without being entirely aware that you were indeed doing so. You were busy after all, and Xioa was most likely too. He was still a yaksha after all, a being whose life was almost completely disconnected from your own. Surely it wouldn’t be that surprising if his views were similar? Maybe you truly had crossed a line, and that was why he never seemed to enquire after you. Or maybe it was that you hadn’t mattered all that much in the first place.

It was a wet, cold autumn day. You sighed slightly as you unlocked your door, having gotten drenched by protecting a bold of fabric you were bringing home to cut and pin. Letting out a huff, you opened the door and went to take a nap. You must’ve been tired, for it took a few seconds for the screech of surprise to leave you mouth at the sight of the unexpected intruder waiting for you.

“Xiao! You scared me!”

You stared at the yaksha, very much surprised by the sight of him. Your surprise had very little time to register though, being quickly replaced by concern for the storm so clearly gathering in Xiao’s eyes.

“You were gone for so long.”

“I’m sorry Xiao. It’s just been so busy you know, everyone’s preparing for the change in season. Besides…”

“Besides?”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I mean, I know you also have a job, and though I want you to find happiness outside of it, I don’t want to pressure you.”

Xiao’s facial expressions evidently conveyed that he was not impressed. Searching for the right words you let your gaze drift towards the floor. You weren’t sure that you were ever going to be ready for a conversation like this, but certainly not in the state you were now. Still, you owed Xiao some sort of explanation. Of course you did.

“I’m really sorry Xiao. I should have found time for you. It’s completely my fault.”

“That’s not what I want.” Xiao’s tone was gruff, frustrated. You found the frustration mirrored within yourself.

“What do you want?”

“I,” Xiao flushed. “I don’t want you to apologize. I’m not blaming you for anything. You shouldn’t apologize for nothing.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

Xiao shook his head. For a moment he just stood there, eyes stormy. Slowly though he reached out to take your hand. You found the act surprisingly comforting. You had missed Xiao’s hands, delicately built, calloused beyond believe. They felt comforting and warm and safe, and you wished you could never let go of them. Drawing strength from that you slowly raised your gaze slightly.

“What do you want, Xiao?”

At first Xiao said nothing. Perhaps he was staring at a line, contemplating whether to cross it. You had half the mind to apologize again, but managed to stop the words from coming out. You knew that it was just a force of habit. Besides, Xiao hadn’t said anything yet. A small spark of hope burned inside you, the hope that something might go well.

There was a gentle tug on your wrist and suddenly you were in Xiao’s arms, his hair gently tickling your nose.

“This,” he mumbled. “I want this.”

For a moment you felt yourself freeze in shock, but soon enough you found yourself melting into his embrace, wrapping your own arms around him. Xiao was warm like a heater, warm beyond that too. It was as if there was something in his soul. Gentle, flickering, it brought you happiness that you never thought you could imagine. You wanted to bask in it forever, it was worth any twists and turns you might have to take to reach it.

“Don’t disappear again.”

“I won’t.”

“I should have come earlier.”

“It’s alright. Hey, Xiao?”

“What?” Xiao’s arms tightened around you slightly. You didn’t want to talk much more either.

“What do you think of me?”

Xiao let out a soft snort. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

It was more than you could have ever hoped for.

#genshin impact #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #xiao x reader #xiao #alatus #Genshin Impact fanfiction #scenarios #fanfiction #my writing #requested #gn reader

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years ago

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i want dick grayson to be annoyingly perfect in the smallest of unimportant ways. and i want it to irritate the living hell out of everyone around him

every now and then, jason and dick will go to different chili dog carts around the city, and dick will sit and nod in agreement as jason nitpicks the food, occasionally offering his own two cents. the conversations are tense and if the topic strays from anything except food jason books it, but it’s progress, and dick’s grateful. but he doesn’t understand why jason always growls at him when he’s preparing his chili dogs, chalking it up to jason’s obsessiveness about that food in particular. dick figures he’s probably doing it wrong. until one day, jason bites out a rough question, asks him how he did that. dick’s confused, until jason points out, “you tear open the top of the ketchup packet in a perfect line every time. and you get all of the ketchup out of the packet in one smooth squeeze, and you never get any on your fingers, and i don’t understand how.”

roy was, arguably, a better archer than ollie. green arrow had been birthed from the island, from the trauma of survival. roy, however, had been practicing since he was a kid, and now that he was well into his twenties, he could safely say he was one of the best shots in the world. he could beat all his friends at darts, shoot an apple off wally’s head, and was generally pretty awesome. or, he would be awesome, if only dick fucking grayson would stop making every single shot of anything he threw in a trash can. no matter what he was throwing away, no matter the angle, no matter the wind or rain, as long as the trashcan was in eyesight, anything dick tossed would inevitably end up inside the garbage. sometimes, dick barely even glanced at the damn thing, just took note of it a threw the trash, expecting it to land in the proper place. and it always did. the worst part was, dick didn’t even seem to notice it. he wasn’t actively trying to make every shot. when asked, dick just shrugged and said “we had some pretty good knife throwers in the circus.”

tim’s memories starting out as robin were a whirlwind, a push-pull of bruce’s mistrust, then bruce’s acceptance, of dick’s fear and hesitation, then of dick’s love. he still remembered dick making the two of them hot chocolate in the kitchen after a day of training, tim’s muscles sore and entire body aching but the feeling of pride, because he was good enough to be robin, he knew he was. he hadn’t expected that to happen anytime soon again, given the way their relationship had fractured after tim had left dick’s batman, a terrified fury in his eyes. yet, he’d been proven wrong when, after a particularly rough arkham breakout, alfred asked both dick and tim to stay instead of returning to their own apartments. just because the manor brought back a feeling of warm nostalgia, however, doesn’t mean it kept the nightmares away. he came down to the kitchen and saw dick already up, moving around the stovetop. with a knowing look in his eyes, dick grabbed another mug to make tim some hot chocolate. tim was washed over with a feeling of relief, of acceptance. dick slid the mug towards him and tim took a sip, letting the rich chocolate warm him up from the inside. it was delicious. his little sigh of pleasure must have been audible, but then he remembered something he noticed. “dick. did you use alfred’s recipe for this?” and dick laughed, responded with, “nah. too much work. i just sort of tried to remember what was in hot chocolate, and eyeballed most of the ingredients. i’m glad it turned out good though. no clumps too, that’s good.”

donna didn’t care how old she got, playing in the park with dick never got old. as one of her oldest friends, the two of them could just walk around the park, in companionable silence, just letting themselves relax and enjoy the moment. so, of course, dick would break the silence and ask if she had any earbuds, because it was getting to quiet for him. donna laughed, and reached inside her pocket, fingered past the keys, and grabbed the headphones. the tangled little ball that came out made her sigh, and she pulled on an earbud to loosen it, only managing to make one of the many knots tighter. then, dick took the headphones out of her hands with a here, i got it, and with a few quick tugs, the tangled monstrosity unraveled easy as breathing. then, completely unaffected, he handed her an earbud, putting the other in his own ear. “i’m the one who’s got a lasso,” she said, ignoring dick’s snort and quip about how earbuds and a lasso are two completely different things, donna.

cass hadn’t expected to enjoy such a gentle, graceful form of athletics, but after a few lessons, it had become apparent that ballet could be far from gentle. it pushed her, made her practice and strengthen herself, and she’d fallen in love with the art quickly. however, the most frustrating part of the entire thing had little to do with actually dancing. the school bruce had helped pick out was prestigious, which meant a strict dress code, which meant her hair had to be in a bun. unfortunately, her hair never seemed to want to cooperate. after her latest attempt, falling into a mess of hair at her nape that had so many locks falling out, cass contemplated how mad the teacher would be if she showed up in a ponytail. at that moment, dick peeked into her room, having heard her frustrated noise, and asked if he could do anything to help. cass pointed to the mess of hair, not even remotely contained by the hair tie, and blew a strand out of her face. dick smiled with understanding, then came into her room, grabbing the comb on her bed and standing behind her in front of the mirror. he smoothed her hair with the comb, then pulled it this way and that, twisting and turning and wrapping until, two minutes later, a picture perfect bun sat atop her head. cass blinked with surprise. “first try,” she said, staring up at him, but he just shrugged and said, “it’s not that hard. you want me to drop you off?”

bruce could admit that he rather enjoyed undercover missions. it was an extended game with high stakes, a test of his own acting skills. with makeup changing his face, an expertly made wig, and a demeanor completely different from both brucie wayne and from batman, he swept through the crowd of greasy men, looking for a specific contact. then, he caught sight of someone specific indeed, though they weren’t his contact. eyebrows raised in a what are you doing here? gesture, he slid onto a barstool. from behind the bar, dick offered him a blinding smile, cleaning a glass. he tapped his wrist twice, a clear message. undercover, same as you. then, dick grabbed a couple bottles from underneath a shelf, flipping them in his hand and pouring with grandeur. bruce noticed he hadn’t put any alcohol in his little mixture, only making it seem as if he had. the flashy moves were entertaining, bruce could give him that. dick slid him the drink and bruce took a sip, eyebrows raising in brief surprise. “this is good. bartending?” dick put the bottles and the lemon away, unimpressed. “it’s not like it’s hard. just mixing a couple ingredients. no biggie.” bruce was fairly certain bartending was more difficult than that, but just then, his target came into view.

steph understood some of the bats’ frustration with dick, she really could. he hadn’t exactly been a welcome and opening batman, that’s for sure. regardless, as the few masks left in gotham had to work together, and she’d gotten to know the man pretty well. and she enjoyed his company as nightwing much more than batman. she dropped onto his balcony in his bludhaven apartment, announcing her presence in that loud-subtle way. dick was nestled in a couple blankets on the couch, going over a couple files, apparently just back from patrol if the small bandage on his neck and bags under his eyes were any indication. nevertheless, he brightened when he saw her and she nodded when he asked if she wanted to spend the night. he moved some of the papers to make room for her on the couch, but she flitted into his bathroom, going through the nail polish bottles she knew he had, and grabbing a shade of red that caught her eye. she tossed him the bottle and put her fingers in his lap, talking aimlessly about a movie she watched with cass. dick seemed to relax amidst her jabbering, and he shook the bottle a couple times before opening it and focusing on her right hand. but as he started, steph paused her rambling and focused on him instead, holding her hands gently and brushing paint onto her nails. he managed to cover her entire nail in three easy strokes, smooth and glossy, not a hint of paint on her skin. the nail was practically perfect. oh god she was jealous. “got a lot of practice with this, grayson?” she asked, and laughed at dick’s mock-offended of course not!

damian wasn’t one for photography, and he could grudgingly admit drake was far better at that particular skill than he was. however, his art class had promised to cover all types of media, and had upheld that pledge. the next two weeks were dedicated to photography, and their final project for the unit had to be a small collection of photographs. animal photography, of course, was damian’s chosen subject, and the knowledge that animal photography was one of the hardest skills to master only had damian wanting to do it more. days later, however, he could admit that it was trickier than expected. how had he never noticed how active his animals were? they never sat still, and every single picture came out blurry. grayson, upon coming across him in the manor grounds, noticed his futile attempts and asked if he could help. damian acquiesced the camera to grayson, who looked through the lens, finding the right angle and background, adjusting the focus settings slightly. then, he let out a sharp whistle and snapped his fingers. in nothing short of a miracle, damian’s pets pasued to look at him, only for a second, and the shutter clicked furiously. damian flipped through the photos, a good many of them clear and wonderful. damian snapped in irritation when dick ruffled his hair and said, “now you try!” it definitely wasn’t as easy as grayson made it look.

babs didn’t really know what she was expecting when she broke up with dick. there was hurt on both ends, and distance for a while, and she had no idea how much she’d miss him. but after a couple months of working together, of remembering that underneath the romantic tangles, their friendship was strong, she’d gotten to the point of dick randomly dropping by her apartment again. the downside was, dick kept randomly dropping by her apartment again. he stole her snacks and messed up her filing system and was so irritating that barbara almost forgot how relieved she was at having one of her best friends back. fortunately, it did come with benefits, because when he was bored, he did some of her chores for her. pausing in the doorway, she smiled at the sight of dick folding her clothes and putting them away. the gesture was platonic now, but no less appreciated. she pushed her wheelchair forward, and in greeting, dick told her how much he wanted to steal all her patterned socks. babs reminded him they wouldn’t fit, and laughed at his pout. dick grabbed one sock off the top of the laundry basket, then dug his hand into the pile of clothes randomly, coming up with the second sock in an instant. folding them together, he repeated the process for each pair. “that...that was fast. you got all of them?” babs asked in confusion. “yes? why, did you expect some to be missing?” was dick’s reply as he shook the wrinkles out of a sweater.

wally was never surprised. he knew dick better than probably most people in the world. he’d gone from frustrated and jealous of dick’s random talents, to admiring and appreciative, to just accepting them as a fact of life. dick’s phone never cracked if he accidentally he dropped it. dick never buttoned up shirts wrong, aligning each button with the right hole perfectly on the first try. dick could plug in usb ports the right way. dick always remembered which light switch was for which room, no matter whose house they were at. dick could pop a cd out of its case without ever smudging the disk, holding it by the rim perfectly. and dick always seemed to know when wally needed a day off, to just visit their old haunts, grab some ice cream, and spend the day talking away on a rooftop. that was just something his best friend could do. and wally would never tell dick, but underneath his fake irritation at it, but he loved him for it.

tag list: @comicsandhoney @birdy-bat-writes @elles-shitposts-personified @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @astroherogirl @yesboopityboop @dangerduckjpeg

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todoscript · 4 years ago

Photo

SYNOPSIS: Years of memories pouring out, Katsuki and Shouto confront their feelings for you in your very hospital room.

pairing(s): bakugou katsuki x fem!reader, todoroki shouto x fem!reader

genre: angst.

word count: 4.5k+

warnings: really self-indulgent fic, characters are aged-up, implied sexual content, mentions of drinking alcohol, jealousy, reader identifies as female with she/her pronouns,

author’s note: so i found this pretty old wip i wrote before i made my blog, and after reading it over, i decided hey why not publish it? so i finished it up, did some cleaning, and heres what we got. sorry if it seems kind of shaky, i did my best with what i initially had!

“Bakugou… what are you doing here?”

Shouto enters the room with freshly bought peonies in his hands—one of the many dozen he had brought to this hospital already—his steps coming to a halt at the sight of the Explosion Hero near your hospital bed. Katsuki looks up and narrows his eyes, aggravated by the offender’s question.

“What? You got a fucking problem with me being here?” He keeps his voice low, not wanting to disturb the entire hospital wing, knowingly admitting to how loud he could be. But that doesn’t suppress the bite in his tone.

“Just because you’re her fucking boyfriend doesn’t mean you’re the only one that’s allowed to worry about her,” he nearly spits, and Shouto’s face mirrors Katsuki’s own irked expression.

You have been unconscious for a week now. The cause of this incident was due to your encounter with a dangerous villain who had been wanted by the police for quite some time. Months of evading capture down the drain, the villain had unfortunately ran into you as you patrolled the streets during your nightly shift.

In the end, you won the fight, but at the cost of damage done to your body and overuse of your quirk. As a result, you entered an unconscious state, recovering in this hospital bed to be monitored by medical staff throughout each day. The doctors assured them that you would eventually wake up but will need time to heal on your own through rest.

Ever since the day you’ve been admitted here, Shouto has been visiting your bedside. However, this is the first time Katsuki’s shown up.

Shouto only points a glare to the blond, ignoring him while he sets his bouquet down next to your bed. He notices the already present vase of hydrangeas, surmising that Katsuki must have brought them. He places his bundle of peonies beside them.

The dual-haired man sits on the opposite side of the bed from Katsuki, whose attention is brought back to the girl’s sleeping face, patched with wraps and bandages as a result of your tribulations with the villains.

If I had finished my jobs quicker, I would’ve been able to see you the moment you had to stay in this damn hospital. The thoughts ring in Katsuki’s head, hands clenched into fists out of frustration.

Knowing you had to deal with that whack job of a villain on your own—that your overprotective and valiant nature wouldn’t allow you to let this criminal walk away when you encountered him, and that they weren’t there to prevent you from getting like this—killed both him and Shouto on the inside. They especially hated not knowing when you would wake up or if what the doctors said about you eventually regaining consciousness would even be true.

Shouto takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together. Katsuki catches him pressing delicate kisses against your lightly bruised knuckles from the corner of his eye, the young man not caring that he was performing these intimate acts in the presence of another man. Shouto especially did this in order to make a solid point:

She’s mine.

Katsuki knew very well how possessive Shouto could be while he was in their presence. And honestly, he couldn’t blame him. If he got to call you his and keep you all to himself, he’d make sure everyone knew they couldn’t have you—that your smile and attention were all his and his alone. But in this case, they weren’t, and all he could settle for were envious emotions and fantasies of what could’ve been.

•

Bakugou Katsuki’s feelings for you date back to as early as your high school years at U.A.

At first, he wasn’t entirely sure what made these feelings arise. Having his goal of becoming the Number One hero plastered at the forefront of his head made romance and love trivial concepts down his path. Katsuki had no time to be chasing after girls, going on dates, and devoting a chunk of his time to a partner.

However, at one point, things started to change. He felt ripples affect the still waters that were his life, and he noticed that only you could calm this torrent. You were the one person he sought comfort in, the one person that understood who he was and why he acted the way he did. And the one person who mended him physically and mentally without belittling his character or crushing his pride.

Through all of that, Katsuki had begun to appreciate and admire all the little things about you. Like your beaming smile and the twinkle in the lovely hues of your eyes that you’d give him as you two interacted. It was such a welcomed contrast to the fearful looks the other students would have etched on their faces whenever he so much as called out their name.

He always took note of how you adjusted his food to his preferences during times you were assigned to cook that night at the dorms. And how you’d go and try to tend to him after training, when his muscles ached and his bruises were settling into his skin.

At first, Katsuki thought of it as a sign of weakness—to accept help from someone else when at his most vulnerable state. Yet you were persistent.

He recalls a particular memory after a battle during his internship where he was reduced to resting in bed to recover. Not many of his classmates came up to check on him during that time. Mainly because they figured he wouldn’t bother to open his door for them anyway. Though one night, he heard a knock sounding from his door. He glanced up from his bed, already thinking about ignoring the visitor in favor of staying in bed to rest, but a voice spoke beyond the threshold.

“Katsuki? I hope you’re not asleep yet. It’s not much, but I made you a little something to help you get better.” He didn’t reply upon recognizing your voice, hesitating to see what you’d do if he didn’t respond.

There was a pause of silence until you eventually continued. “Well, I’ll leave this in front of your door for you to have… If not, I’ll come back and retrieve it, okay?” That was the last you said before Katsuki picked up a light clank near the bottom of the entrance. Afterward, feet padded lightly down the hallway till they returned to the elevator to descend to the bottom floors, and the blond was by himself once again.

He weighed the option of leaving whatever you left for him untouched, but knowing you made an effort to arrive at his door to check on him caused him to waver. Before he knew it, his feet treaded to the spot to discover a hot plate of curry at his doorstep, followed by a note and painkillers. The plate perched on one of his hands, he opened the letter with the other.

Get better soon! We’ll be waiting for you!

Closing the note, he tossed it on his desk before plopping down on the edge of his bed with the plate of curry in his lap. It steamed and dispersed heat on his sore thighs, piping hot and ready to eat.

He gripped his spoon between his fingers, an irregular grin surfacing his lips. He scooped up the spicy bits of curry, gobbling the dish down to its very last grain of rice until the plate was clean. And in that time, every bite he brought to his mouth made him think of you.

“Dumbass, there’s no way I’m falling behind.” Feeling thoroughly full, he transferred the finished plate to his desk, where he had left the note. Before he had even realized it, he reached out for the paper, glancing over the words one last time. He fished a pen from his drawer and scribed a reply of his own for when you would return for the dirty plate.

Thanks, dumbass. It was good.

•

The Icy-Hot Hero, Todoroki Shouto, loved you too much to let you go.

You were the girl that shaped him to become the person he is today—who taught him to embrace himself for who he was and not let his past define him and what he stood for. You were the person that brought him out from the dark hole he trapped himself in and cast him into warm light. You’ve stuck together through thick and thin throughout your journey to becoming Pro Heroes, protecting one another and watching each other’s backs. It wasn’t long before he noticed his feelings for you had developed into more complicated emotions. Emotions that made butterflies flutter in his stomach and his face unusually hot whenever he even glanced in your direction. As he began to actively seek you out for comfort and support, he thought of you differently in comparison to all of his other classmates.

Initially, these foreign feelings troubled him. Yet, he could never quite piece together why you could garner such flustered reactions.

Then after consoling these newfound sensations with his close friends and family, he realized that you meant so much more to him than just a classmate, an ally, a colleague. Todoroki Shouto was—is—in love with you.

And the feeling was mutual.

Whether it was the intense looks you two sent as your gazes naturally drifted to each other or how your hands would always brush across soft and calloused knuckles in a silent plea to lace your fingers together, it wasn’t long before he discovered that his feelings for you were reciprocated.

Interestingly, you and Shouto never had to confess anything to each other. Your feelings came almost naturally for you both like you were telepathically linked and on the same wavelength. You came to one another like magnets attracted to their opposite poles, and in just a blink, your lips had met one day, and you took each other’s first kiss.

From then on was the start of many more “firsts.”

Shouto remembers the first time he let you hang out in his dorm room, talking about simple things like school, studying, and internships.

He remembers your first date to a cafe his older sister recommended—the one with flavorful milk teas he knew you’d take a liking to, with bountiful flowers decorating the interior of the tea house.

He remembers inviting you into his home to meet his older siblings, have dinner with them, and letting his family get to know you as his significant other.

He remembers taking you to see his mother at the psychiatric ward his wretched father had admitted her to, finally letting the two most significant women in his life meet and watching as his mother took a relieved liking to the girl he loves.

He remembers the tension that hovered in the air over an argument you two had one day, which was eventually mended through communication and reaffirmations of love.

He remembers embracing you in his bed, devoid of nothing but yourselves in your purest forms, eliciting sweet sounds from your lips that intoxicated him with lust and drove him to desire more and more until he monopolized every crevice of your body—every ounce of your soul—and intended to burn your beautiful, sinful image into his memory.

He remembers so much of the little things and the significant things about your love that he could never, ever hand you over to anyone else. Less of all to Bakugou Katsuki.

•

Katsuki was one of the first people to notice that they were in a relationship.

At first, it wasn’t obvious. The two made a point to keep their romantic bond a secret among their classmates and teachers not to complicate things and be the subject of teasing. They also considered the fact they needed to focus on their studies and hero training. Kisses and other affectionate touches were done behind closed doors or whenever they knew no eyes could discover them. These sneaky tactics proved to be effective and not many questioned them about relationships, aside from the occasional girls/boys talk they’d do. They’d ask each other things like “who would you date” and “don’t you think ‘so-and-so’ is cute” and many other curious asks. Their answers to these inquiries were inconspicuous enough that most of their friends didn’t suspect much of anything. Except for Katsuki.

Katsuki was never one to pick apart details, not as much as his childhood rival, Deku, anyway. But the more he looked at them, the more he was aware of the particular hints and their subtleties of tenderness. Such as the way the red-and-white-haired boy would perk up at the sound of your name or the chime of your voice from across the dormitory’s common area. Or the way you two would hover around each other more often than you would your classmates as if maximizing the most of your time together in public. Or how you’d go on small study dates together and hold each other’s hand underneath the table in the library, thinking no one would notice.

Perhaps, the most significant indication, however, was the expressions on each of their faces.

Maybe Katsuki had started becoming very hyper-aware, unraveling your mannerisms and making out even the smallest of singularities, but he felt your faces alone were an obvious giveaway.

The looks you gave each other were ones harboring nothing but pure love and adoration. He could discern the glow you exuded simply basking one another’s presence. Those looks weren’t ones you would give to a close friend; they were something more. He would know. That look Shouto gives is the same one Katsuki has for you, after all.

Except, his is never reciprocated.

That pretty smile, the flustered expression across your cheeks, the sparkling hues of your eyes—all those little details were reserved for Shouto, not Katsuki.

It hurt to know that the gaze you give Katsuki wouldn’t ever be the same one you give to Shouto. Katsuki knows this, and yet he still can’t seem to get past you.

The moment he was aware of his feelings—reluctantly fathoming the fact that you were with Shouto—Katsuki did everything in his power to stop these feelings.

No, not just stop. He had to get rid of them. Cut any connection with them. Dealing with an aching heart was too much work and pain for a boy with heavy aspirations to bear. So he ignored you—erased you. He didn’t so much as spare you even a glance as if you were just another extra. Whenever you appeared, he made a move to leave, spouting excuses such as “I’m going to sleep,” or “I don’t have time to be around you losers,” the usual Bakugou Katsuki response to any form of unnecessary socializing. He had to act like you didn’t exist, put his mind on something else—anything else.

But darn that girl and her need to check on and care for other people.

Noticing something was wrong with the boy, you sought Katsuki out, cornering him. You asked him what was wrong, to which Katsuki gritted his teeth, unable to look at you in the eyes, knowing that those feelings would bubble up inside him again as they conjured troublesome butterflies in the pits of his stomach. Yet it was no use.

He couldn’t deny that he missed those times together—when you would patch up his wounds and bruises after training or when you’d let him try out your spicy ailments before half-and-half because you always knew he had a preference for spicy foods. He still had it bad for you.

And he continued to harbor those feelings even after you all graduated after your third year at U.A.

The heroes-in-training were ready to take on the real world as Pro Heroes and sidekicks. By then, you and Shouto had admitted to the class about your relationship. Some were surprised, while others, specifically the girls, expressed their rounds of “I knew it!” likely noticing the chemistry between the two long before. Katsuki had decided to play dumb and acted like this announcement meant completely nothing to him. Just useless news. That was what he told himself, anyway.

After that, Katsuki didn’t see much of the couple around. All of them were busy with work and trying to get their names out in the public to compete on the Billboard Hero Chart.

Which was good news for him. With his goal of becoming the Number One Hero still lodged into his head, the blond threw himself into his heroic duties. Often, he didn’t stop, persisting on job after job until the agency he was under forced him to take breaks whenever they deemed necessary for his health. In those times, Katsuki found himself slowly forgetting about you. But occasionally, he’d see glimpses of you again.

As expected of one of the graduates under Class A of U.A., you were definitely making a name for yourself and propelling in popularity. Whether he wanted to or not, Katsuki would see articles and advertisements glowing with your resplendent features plastered on headlines, covered by your hero name.

God, did you look as beautiful as always. Katsuki would think before jolting his mind back to reality, remembering that you weren’t his to ogle.

The last part was hard to bear, especially when his former class announced a reunion party at a restaurant Momo had reserved for them when everyone had hit the legal drinking age. Katsuki was definitely not keen on going. However, his friend Kirishima had convinced him to come along through relentless persistence.

Ultimately, he attended the reunion. He and Eijirou arrived together and appeared relatively earlier. Well, earlier than at least half the class anyway. Eventually, more of their former classmates trickled into the food establishment and greeted one another with boisterous cheers all around. Which, unfortunately for him, included the people Katsuki dreaded to see the most—you and Shouto.

Your hand was already laced with half-and-half’s when you two entered, resulting in some of their classmates teasing you about your public display of affection. Both didn’t mind though. Over the years, you’ve grown quite comfortable with hand-holding and even hugging in the open.

You know who did mind? A certain explosion hero, of course.

Save that shit for when I don’t have to fucking see it. He almost hissed out loud but bit his tongue at the last second.

To his luck, you had ended up sitting next to him, with Shouto at your left. Though you were sandwiched between two guys from your former class who were infatuated with you, Katsuki felt like he was more suffocated than you were.

The reunion that night went by relatively smoothly. You would chime in some small talk with Katsuki during certain intervals of time while everyone was holding their own conversations in the background. He did his best to keep his cool and not let himself act like a high schooler in love. To some degree, he thought his facade had worked as he played off his usual “Bakugou responses,” albeit with a lot less yelling and venom in comparison to how he spoke to everyone back in high school. Dare he say, he might have even softened up a bit. What he didn’t notice was Shouto glancing at him from the corner of his eye while in the middle of a conversation with Midoriya.

The night continued with rounds of alcohol poured across the table of twenty-one heroes. They made their cheers before helping themselves to their spirits. Conveniently, Shouto and Katsuki were very adept at holding their drinks. You? You weren’t as great. By the end of the night, you passed out from how drunk you were and had ended up laying your head on the table, head floaty and light.

By then, everyone else had left aside from maybe five or so people. Momo graciously helped the couple secure a cab home safely for the night, and Shouto had gotten up to help confirm some information. Katsuki was left to his own devices with you next to him.

His eyes couldn’t help but wander toward your form. You were so vulnerable in front of him, with your soft lips, splayed hair, and long eyelashes turned in his direction for him to see. Though a bit of that smell of alcohol lingered, he could still make out the flowery aroma you always gave off. You smelled of lavenders, daisies, roses—every fucking flower under the sun—with a hint of honey. Your scent intoxicated him. He started to wonder if this is how you smelled like at home, or if your scent became even more potent whenever you appeared fresh out of the shower and—

Katsuki hadn’t realized his hand had subconsciously gone up to brush a stray hair from your face until he managed to pull himself away from his thoughts. Thankfully, he retracted his hand back before committing himself to the act. But the gesture did not go unnoticed by the heterochromatic-eyed man who had appeared again to gather you in his arms.

Shouto had taken his coat and wrapped it around you before hooking his arms beneath you to cradle your body.

“Mm, Shouto…” you hummed against him, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you nuzzled further into him while on the verge of sleep. Katsuki’s heart throbbed hearing those half-dazed murmurs that left your lips, which hovered so close to that bastard’s neck. He wanted the privilege of holding you close and taking care of you at your most vulnerable.

“Come on, love, we’re going home,” he said fondly at your resting state. Katsuki didn’t catch the cold glare Shouto sent his way as he looked elsewhere to avoid the couple’s intimacy right in front of him. All he could hear after that was the engine of their cab rumbling in the distance, trailing back to their humble abode.

•

“...I know.” Shouto finally breaks the silence within the hospital room, eyes still trained on his beloved as he rubs his thumb across your knuckles to the base of your hand.

Katsuki looks up at his words incredulously. “The fuck is that suppose to mean.” He narrows his brows into a pressed glare.

“I know that you’re in love with her.”

Katsuki deadpanned, his eyes wavering at the man’s declaration. Should he deny it? Make it seem as if the icy-hot head was delusional? No. He knows that the signs must have been obvious coming from the one man in his way of vying for your attention, the man that would go to so many lengths for you that he’d travel to the moon and back in a heartbeat if it were in your name. Katsuki can’t pry himself out of this one.

He takes a glance at you. Was this really the place to be confronting him about this? In the presence of your unconscious state resting in this hospital bed between them?

“And what about it?” Katsuki counters his claims.

“I don’t plan on letting her go no matter what.” As if to make a point on his words, Shouto’s hold on your limp hand is firm, unmoving. He slowly shifts his gaze to the ash blond, crossing his look of anger. “So stop playing this game.”

When the words travel across the hollow hospital room and to Katsuki’s ears, his fists tighten in response. “Game? Game?!” He raises his voice, body shaking. “You think my feelings are some sort of joke to you?! That I’m only looking at her like this for fun?!” His eyes find Shouto’s blue and gray, red with ire. The young man in front of him is unfazed in the wake of his indignation.

“Let me tell you something fucking straight…” Katsuki starts, stepping forward, finger pointing fiercely in Shouto’s direction. “I won’t deny anything I feel for her at this point. I’m in love with her, alright?” he admits without hesitance and notices the subtle quirk of Icy-Hot’s brow. “And I’ll tell you that if she were mine, she wouldn’t have gotten in this position in the first place.”

Those words are what finally make Shouto’s unnatural composure crumble. He releases your hand to stand from his place and face the blond at eye level. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Crossing his arms, Katsuki scoffs at the question.

“You’d think I’d even let that villain get near her if this was gonna happen?” He gestures in the direction of your patched-up form, asleep and littered with bruises. “If she were looking at me, I would’ve already been on the scene to back her up. And just what were you doing, huh? Helping old ladies cross the street?” Katsuki is unfiltered as he hurls his insults, but three years of dealing with him as a classmate has made Shouto immune to his temperament.

“Let me get this through your head then. She was never looking at you. She was looking at me.”

Ouch. The blond would be lying if those words didn’t stir a pot of hurt inside him.

“And as both her partner and a fellow Pro Hero, I more than trusted her enough to finish the job on her own. Even if this isn’t a game to you, you’re already losing a battle you can’t hope to win.”

“Not sure why you’re the one calling the shots for her,” Katsuki quips. How ironic the girl they’re both fighting over lays comatose in this very bed between them.

The atmosphere is layered in dreadful silence afterward. The monitor next to you beeps in eery succession. It is the only thing heard in the hospital room that is wrapped in tension so taut it is bound to snap at any moment.

The knot of strife is undone by the door sliding open to reveal a nurse entering the uneasy state of the room.

“Mister Bakugou and Mister Todoroki, I’m sorry, but visiting hours at the hospital are closed for the evening,” she informs them as the two had yet to realize the sky veiled darkening orange with the setting of the sun. Eyeing the clipboard hugged to her chest, they knew it was about time for the hospital to assess your condition again.

The two make their leave, taking the time to thank the nurse before doing so, but the suffocating tension follows them even outside the hospital. They don’t speak a word afterwards, only sharing bristled looks and heavy steps until they’re forced to head off in their respective paths, not sparing any more kindness.

To Shouto, Katsuki would never understand the lengths he’d go for you because Katsuki could also never experience what the two of you went through together in the same way. All those years together, forging unforgettable memories of love and tenderness, could never be replicated.

But the blond isn’t bothered by those facts. It doesn’t unnerve him that he was unable to encounter all those firsts with you because in his mind, he’ll just create new memories—ones that you’ve never experienced and ones that will make him the last and only person you’ll ever want by your side. He’ll blow fucking Icy-Hot out of the atmosphere.

ending note: heyyy congrats if you’ve made it to the end. i think at the time i was writing this, i had an idea on how to progress the fic, but i decided to leave it on this. not particularly sure if i’m going to continue this, i may just leave it up to your interpretation. does katsuki steal the readers heart? does shouto protect his love from being severed in front of him? will the reader even wake up? find out on the next episode of dragon ball z

#bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo fic #bakugou fic #todoroki fic #bnha imagine #bnha fic #bakugou imagine #todoroki imagine #todoroki shouto x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

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parkers-gal · 4 years ago

Text

start searching P.P.

(not my gif)

just a nice, first makeout session with our best boy, peter :)

wc: 2.6k <3

A study session for decathlon turned into six teenagers playing a ridiculous game of confessions. You’d started off strong, going through notes and flashcards and books for the upcoming meet, but after a good hour and a half, MJ had nudged all academic-related supplies out of the way, shoving them to join the floor with the living room rug.

After Peter had gone into the kitchen to get some sodas, Flash had decided on playing truth or dare. When he nearly broke Peter’s front door, Betty had suggested just making it “truth or truth.”

“That’s not even a thing.” MJ plays with the neck of the soda bottle, fingers moving around it sensually.

“It is too!” Betty defends her suggestion. “The girls play it all the time during gym.”

“Is that what you’re always doing?” Ned’s shameless with his question. Betty nods, turning to you and Peter for approval. Peter shrugs, unknowing of his answer, and you nod meekly.

After a measly confession of old crushes and cheated tests, the topic of Flash and his many girlfriends comes up, which lead to deeply over-personal confessions about his sex life. MJ snortled at the heteronormativity, sharing her experiences with a girl from his party a few months ago.

“A real question for the guys, though.” Betty doesn’t falter with her follow up questions. “What’s your favorite thing to do to a girl?”

“During.. It? Like- like it-it?” Peter wheezes out his question, nervousness rushing through him.

“Not necessarily. I mean, just during a makeout session or something.”

Flash hums in thought, and when Ned does the same thing, Peter rolls his eyes.

“You’re not actually going to answer that, are you?”

“Damn right I am.” Flash surprises Peter, and though he’s red in embarrassment, Peter rolls his eyes again with a mumbled “whatever.”

“I’d say… maybe just neck kisses. Boobs are great too, though.” Flash concludes his confession with a proud smirk, and Betty buzzes at the response.

“Boobs are great, though.” MJ agrees with him absentmindedly. “I love me some neck kisses, though.”

You look away from the group, catching Peter’s eyes for only a moment before you look the other way again. MJ catches the entire encounter, turning the conversation to you.

“Y/N/N,” She nods her head at you. “Neck kisses or regular kisses?”

“I’ve never gotten neck kisses before,” You hide the disappointment in your voice as best you can. “So I really have nothing to compare regular kisses to. Any kisses are great, though.”

Flash’s brows furrow, and before MJ can stop him, he asks a follow up question. “Aren’t you like… dating Parker?” He motions toward the wall-crawler sitting beside you, and MJ physically slaps her forehead.

“Shut up, dingbat.”

His eyes widen. “You two haven’t even made out yet?!”

“Shut up, Flash!” Betty tries to whisper-yell it while slapping his leg. The boy holds his hands up defensively, shrugging his shoulders.

“Just seems a little weird, especially when Peter’s a little horny ball of excitement.”

“Excuse me?” Peter gasps dramatically. “I am not a ball of horniness.” Flash tilts his head, eyebrow raising while he sends him a side eye. Peter huffs. “I’m not! MJ, back me up here!”

“No can do, Parker.” She shrugs, and Flash yells out a loud “HA!”

“Whatever.” Peter replies, face burning with a bright blush. You chuckle, grabbing his hand to play with his fingers.

When the game goes on, you get up to grab a few snacks from the kitchen, and MJ follows you into the room, jumping at the opportunity to question you about earlier. Neither of you notice Peter, who’s listening from a crevice with empty soda bottles in his hands.

“You’ve never even made out with him? Don’t you want to?”

You feel yourself burning up at the intensity of the questions. “Of course I do! We just haven’t… I don’t know? It’ll happen, I guess. I’m staying the night so maybe something’ll happen later.”

She nods along, and the two of you continue conversing about other things. Peter’s face is as hot as the sun, and though he tries to contain it, he can’t do anything but allow himself to blush.

When two minutes go by, he turns the corner and enters the kitchen, setting the empty bottles in the recycling bin.

“Hey, babe, MJ.” He sends each of you a nod before directing his attention to you. “Are you cool if we… pack up a little early today? I’m exhausted.”

You nod understandingly, getting ready to clean up and put everything away. When Peter leaves the room, MJ finally lets out an exasperated breath.

“Y/N!”

“What?!” You turn to her, slightly frightened.

“He totally heard us!”

“What?”

“He wants us to leave early! What do you think he’s going to do when he gets you alone, hm?” She raises her brows, and you roll your eyes.

“He said he was tired.”

“No, he said he wanted everyone to leave because he’s tired.”

“And the difference is?” You shut the sink off, scrubbing a glass and rinsing it before handing it to MJ for drying.

“He may be tired of us, but he won’t be tired of you.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“Sure it is.” She sets the final plate into the cupboard before drying her hands. You do the same, grabbing a paper towel before standing upright, eyes on MJ. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod, leaning in for a hug. It lasts momentarily, and then she’s leaving the kitchen. You wave goodbye as Betty and Ned leave through the front door, hands intertwined. You send Flash your last smile while he takes a bag of doritos with him.

MJ is deep into conversation with Peter, and you don’t think anything of it while you put the food away.

“Did you only kick us out because you want to make out with Y/N?”

“Wh-what? No!” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, assuring her otherwise. She sends him a look, and he huffs, giving in. “Fine, yes I did. But she doesn’t know, right?” MJ smirks, shaking her head. “Not a clue.”

Peter lets out a cute “phew,” and MJ rolls her eyes one final time before grabbing her coat.

“Don’t be too much of a horny ball, though.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.”

As the front door finally closes, Peter joins you in the kitchen. You’re cleaning the counter, and when he wraps his arms around you from behind, you hum in approval. He’s warm, and you melt into him.

“Hey there.”

“Hi.” He’s mumbling into your back with a soft smile.

“Whaddya wanna do now?”

You turn around in his grasp, hugging him back while you peer up into his eyes. He nibbles on his lip nervously, not sure how to respond to your question with the answer he’s thinking of.

“Hello?” You giggle, waving a hand up. “I said what do you want to…” It’s only then that you realize how close his face is to yours, lips mere inches away. You glance down at them for a moment, something Peter takes note of. “Do?” You finish your sentence with a shaky exhale. You’re grateful you brushed your teeth after eating. Peter’s glad he did, too.

“I want you to…” He plays with a strand of your hair, twirling it softly. You hear him swallow thickly, and it makes you do the same. “To teach me how to… make out.”

Your eyes widen, and you bite your bottom lip to suppress any smiles and sheepish smirks. “Yeah? What makes you think I’m a good teacher for that?”

It’s his turn to bite his lip, but he doesn’t do a very good job at not smiling, because his smirking face is centimeters away from yours.

“Just my gut feeling.”

You blink, eyes darting around the room. You realize you’re still in the kitchen, a place entirely unfit for the occasion. “Bedroom?”

His eyes widen at the sudden suggestion, and you’re quick to roll your eyes. “Keep it in your pants, Parker. You know what I meant.”

He smiles sheepishly again, scratching his neck while he nods. He offers you a hand, and when you intertwine your fingers, he’s smiling again, pulling you quickly into the safety of his room.

Eventually, the two of you get ready to sleep before sitting across from each other on the mattress. Peter is nervously fiddling with his fingers, tugging on the ends of his navy blue Midtown High hoodie. You’re seated calmly across from him, but inside you’re burning up out of anxiousness for what’s about to come. You have no idea what you’re going to do or say, but you have a few ideas in mind.

“What… what’s first?”

“Your hands.” You point to them as if he doesn’t know they’re his own. You swallow before continuing. “You can put them… in my hair,” You demonstrate, hands guiding him. “Holding my face,” You nuzzle into his grasp,“On my waist,” they move again, “My hips. My back.” his fingers run along your spine, the action causing goosebumps to rise.

“And what about…” Peter swallows again, tongue darting out to lick his lips, wetting them. “What about my lips?”

You scoot closer to him. “Against mine,” You whisper it with how close you are to the brunette. He breathes in, holding his breath while biting his lip again. His hands stay on your waist. “And then… and then you can move to my jaw, and my neck, and my collarbones. And you can… you can kiss and…” With the proximity between you and Peter, you’re holding your breath. He’s waiting for you to finish so he can start the hands-on part, but he takes the opportunity to speak instead.

“And… and hickeys? Am I allowed to mark you like that?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay.” His words are soft and gentle, but the context of them makes you hot with anticipation. His next words capture your breath. “Can I kiss you?”

“Mhm.”

When his lips first make contact with yours, it’s awkward and tense. You can feel the nervousness oozing out of the both of you, but after a few moments and some scarce giggling, you loosen up. Peter gets comfortable too — hands reaching out for your skin while your lips move feverishly. He’s growing restless, and after a few moments, he pulls you closer, only breaking apart momentarily to bring you onto his lap. With his super strength, the task seems simple and easy, but you laugh nonetheless.

His fingers are calloused when compared to your soft and supple skin. They’re rough yet tender, touching you gently but needily. His hair is arranged messily, curls strewn about while your fingers distractedly tug and twist the strands. Peter emits small noises, huffs and gruffs, and you exhale shakily, out of breath.

He sends you a messy grin, face flushed and hair jumbled. Within seconds, his lips are back on yours. He leans in hesitantly, almost as if he’s asking for permission, and when you nod, he smiles against your lips, filling the gap.

You adjust as your lips continue their love fest, and suddenly, you’re straddling him. His hands are low on your back, fingers moving delicately. When your fingers move to his hair, pulling and tugging, his lips move away from yours and down to your neck and jawline. He moans against you, the vibrations sending tingles through your spine and core.

“Who taught Peter Parker how to kiss so well?” You suck in a breath as his lips find your sweet spot for the first time. You feel his lips curve into a smile, shy yet cheeky, and he chuckles.

“You.”

You exhale shakily, head tilted up while you smile. “Was it me who corrupted the innocent Peter Parker?”

He hums, lips detaching from your neck to peer at you. You exhale again, eyes connecting with his. He grins again, and your face flushes as you realize his hair is an absolute mess.

“You gave me so many reasons to switch.” He breathes out his words, slurring them together while his lips urge to connect with your skin again. They find your sweet spot easily, as if it’s second nature, and they suck a hickey into your skin. His tongue peaks out from his mouth, licking over the freshly nipped skin. You suck in another breath, unprepared and unexpected for the feeling of it.

Eventually, his lips move away from your special spot. They trail further down your neck, sucking in hickeys and nipping and kissing the skin. Your fingers move from his hair to his shoulders, gripping him with every kiss. Your eyes are closed in bliss, and when Peter looks up for a moment, he smirks to himself, admiring your state of bliss.

“Reasons to switch to what?” He hums against you, pulling away again. “Maybe not to switch but... just to unleash the beast.”

You giggle, eyebrows raising slightly. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

“And… this so-called ‘beast’... what makes him so beastly?”

Peter bites on his bottom lip, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You don’t mention anything, though, merely sucking in a breath and waiting for his response.

“He’s… dirtier.” “Dirtier?” You giggle again. “You sound like a schoolgirl.” “It’s true!” He huffs. “He’s dirtier and kinkier and sexier.”

“Is that so?”

“I seem to think you believed that, too.” His lips hover over a spot on your neck, breath warm as he exhales against you. You know what he’s doing, and as you exhale shakily, you nod your head.

“We’ll see about this beast of yours.”

He hums again, lips continuing their journey against your skin. He’s warm and encapsulating against you, lips wet and slick. You lick your lips, head tilting downwards after a few moments. Peter peers up again, hand moving up your spine sensually. You inhale again, biting your bottom lip while you connect your lips again. He kisses back immediately, grinning against you.

The two of you get lost in the kiss, and his hands move low on your back again. Yours take home on his chest, fingers toying with the strings of his hoodie. He’s snug, sitting right under your touch, and you long to feel his skin. You huff, tugging at the hem of his sweatshirt. He grins again, pulling it off and throwing it mindlessly to a corner of his room.

“Don’t get fussy on me.” You can hear the grin on his face. His biceps come into your view, and your fingers immediately wrap around them, squeezing sensually. It’s Peter’s turn to suck in a breath, taken aback.

Your plush lips find his neck for the first time, and suddenly the roles have reversed. You’re hesitant at first, lips discovering his golden skin, testing the waters. When you come across a particular spot that makes him gasp, you smirk and suck a hickey into the skin. You’ve found his sweet spot, and now you’re endlessly nibbling its skin.

A few moments go by and eventually your lips move on, tongue darting out to lick at the spots you’ve sucked purple marks into. Peter’s holding his breath as you do so, flustered and breathless. You smirk again.

“Doesn’t seem very beastly to me.”

He huffs, peering at you whilst you chuckle. “He’s in there.”

“You’re gonna make me find him?”

Peter shrugs from within your grasp, and the two of you burst out into laughter.

“Still wanna find the beast?” Peter’s hopeful after a few moments of separation from your lips. You roll your eyes but nod anyways.

“‘M not gonna stop until I find him.” You mumble your words against his lips, eyes darting back and forth between his eyes and his mouth. He tongue plays with his sharpest tooth, and then his lips are back against yours again.

“Then start searching.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker fic #peter parker smutty #peter parker fanfic #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker blurb #peter parker concept #fluffy concepts #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker blurbs #peter parker imagines #boyfriend!peter parker

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cinnamonrusts · 4 years ago

Text

sparda twins -- reactions

The Sparda twins reactions that you're pregnant with not just one, but two of their children.

DANTE-

You paced the bathroom several times as you gnawed on your thumbnail. Your eyes did not leave the plastic stick that was sitting on the edge of the sink near the toilet. The packaging read that results would be ready in five minutes, but the wait had it feeling like five hours.

Dante had left on a run for some take out and you knew that it was all the way across town, so it left you some free time to figure out your "little" situation. You hadn't told him anything. How could you? The two of you were not in an exactly "family friendly" business. Last thing Dante would need to worry about was a mini Sparda.

You had enough of waiting and snatched the test from the counter. Your eyes narrowed as they fixated on the single horizontal pink line, but widened when it turned into a plus. The blood in your body ran cold and your throat grew dry. It was as if the + sign mocked you and your stomach felt sick. You knew it would happen, Dante called himself the pull out king. Yeah - fucking - right, and this proved him to be very wrong.

The evidence needed to be disposed of, so you wrapped it several times in some toilet paper and shoved it in the trash can. Dante hardly took the trash out and it would be unlikely that he would decide to scour the garbage, so you felt safe. Now all you would have to do is just keep it a secret until you decided how to approach it.

It didn't last long and soon Nico was on the other end of the phone. She let out a happy, "'Eller!" but was greeted by a loud sob along with unintelligible babble. "Woah! Woah! [Y/N], you gotta repeat yourself. I couldn't make out a damn thing! You okay?" the brunette asked, concerned. "I'M PREGNANT!" your sobs now made sense. "Oh, shit," she replied. "Yeah, oh shit is right."

"Did you tell Dante yet?"

You scoffed, "No. I don't think I can," as you spoke on the phone in the kitchen, your eyes fixed on a photo on the fridge of you and your devil hunter boyfriend. The two of you looked so happy and Dante's smile was so bright, the vibes that radiated from the picture kind of gave you some assurance. Maybe Dante would react well to the news and maybe he'd give the same smile of glee at the idea of being a father.

"But you're going to have to at some point. How you goin' to explain a giant belly here in a few months?" Nico was right, there was no way around it. You pinched the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes tight, "Could you maybe -- I dunno, take me to the doctor?" Nico replied, "I'll be there in a jiff!"

Just as you hung up, Dante walked in with two large bags that smelled of Chinese food. "Food is here and beer is in the fridge!" he waddled into the kitchen and his happy expression turned to one of concern when he noticed you looked upset. "Hey, darlin', you alright?" he set the bags down on the floor and slid to your side, his arms around your waist. His musk along with the heavy smell of greasy Chinese food almost threw you over the edge and caused you to gag. You placed your hand on his chest to prevent him from getting closer. His brows furrowed as he tried to understand what was wrong but the loud horn of Nico's van interrupted. "I'm going out with Nico. I'll be back," you brushed past him, grabbed your coat, and dashed out the door.

You were able to take a breath once you jumped into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. Your head rested on the back of the seat and your eyes closed, "Thanks for the ride." Nico placed a hand on your thigh and nodded, "No problem, girlfriend."

Several hours passed and you weren't home yet. Dante's mind raced with different things he could've done to make you so upset. Was it because he hadn't taken the trash out? He would do that soon. Was it because he hadn't shown his appreciation for you relationship lately? He would go tonight to get you some flowers. So, the man did just that. Dante took the overflowed trash out. Then he made sure to hurry, so, that he would be home before you. Dante chose a bouquet of white roses and a goofy card. The card had two hot dogs on the front who held hands with smiles on their faces. It read, "Hot dog! You make me happy!" Dante got a kick out of it and figured you would too. The devil hunter wrote a quick, cheesy blurb in a scribbled mess and signed with his name plus a heart.

He opened the door and was surprised to see you in a chair near the entrance. You seemed to be in a trance and were startled by Dante’s sudden appearance. “I got you these!” he handed his gifts over but his happiness was dropped when you didn’t seem very happy to receive them.

“Dante, I have something I need to tell you.” you found it hard to keep your eyes on his. “Well, here it goes---,” your nose inhaled, then exhaled deeply, “I’m pregnant.”

Dante’s face was void of emotion before he burst into laughter. You grew angry and your facial expressions matched it. “That’s a good one, babe. Whew!,” he clapped his hands and winced a bit with his hand on his side, “Ow! That laugh made me pull a muscle.”

“I’m serious, Dante. I’m pregnant.” you reiterated. “With --- emotion?” he asked as his eyes shifted side to side.

“What? No! With a baby!”

Once Dante heard it for the third time, he realized it all. He was going to be a father and you were going to be the one who would usher in another lineage of the Sparda bloodline. Dante rushed to your side and took a knee as he kneeled beside you. His palm immediately made its way to your stomach as he pictured the life that was within. “Hey there, little buddy.” You cleared your throat into a closed fist which drew his attention to your face. Your right hand raised slowly and you twiddled your two first fingers in the air with a small smile.

That same grin that shined in the photo on your fridge grew across his lips. Both of his hands grabbed either side of your lower torso and he stared at your stomach. “You mean, there’s two of me in there?!” His expressions were warm and overjoyed, relief crashed over you as this situation turned out better than you thought.

“I’m gonna really need to get outta debt.”

VERGIL-

Your body spoke to you and told you that something was going on. Every morning you felt ill and you could devour anything in sight until nausea overtook you. Lady asked if there was any possibility that you could be pregnant. A snort left your nostrils, “Impossible. Vergil and I don’t have sex enough for that to happen.” your mate was normally not home, you often slept in an empty bed more than one occupied by his strong body. But anytime he was, the act of intimacy could tear the walls down of his brother’s building. He was a focused and controlled man, he knew what he needed to do to prevent another child in his life. You were okay with that, your job was not one that was prime for being a parent. So, there was no doubt in your mind that this was nothing but a simple stomach bug.

“I don’t know, all your symptoms point to it, [Y/N]. Maybe you should take a test,” she attempted to reason with you and you eventually gave in.

The entire time you played it off as just something you did for Lady so that she would get off your back about it. You sat on the closed toilet lid and held the test loosely in between your fingers. The box read that it would take about ten minutes for a result, so you avoided looking at it until roughly around that. But your heart dropped into your stomach when the test did not read negative, but positive. “Shit --- Lady was right.” your cursed and your head dropped between your knees as your mind raced.

Vergil just found out that he had a son, Nero, and now you would throw him the information that he would have now an infant on the way. It was a conversation that you did not want to have. Vergil was a reserved man who did not show you his emotions often or expressed them publicly. You knew he loved you but it took quite sometime for him to open up to you about the fact. He put back his one track set mind toward power and made you a priority in his life. However, he had issues with being around his brother, son, and the other’s -- so he often went off on his own. You learned that this was something he wanted and you did not want to force yourself to go with him always.

So, this news would not be easy to break to him when he would return in about a week. With the test clenched in your hand, you opened the door to leave the bathroom to only be greeted by Lady who was leaned against the walls with arms crossed. “So, what’s the prognosis?” she pushed herself from the wall and followed you as you pushed past her. You tossed the test into the air with your fingers and she caught it, “What do you think?” you answered before she was able to see for herself. The female was shocked to see that she was correct but didn’t want to say that she told you so.

You were about to slam your room door shut but her boot stopped it, “What’re you going to tell Vergil?” Your back was turned toward her and you faced the window as you observed the rain that pattered against the window. “Fuck if I know. How do you tell someone like him that he’s going to be a father... again.” Lady was silent, you turned on your heels to face her, “Exactly.”

Lady took your hand in hers and gave you a comforting smile, “Hey, he won’t be home for like what-- another week? Let’s get you to the doctor, we’ll figure something out.” You smiled faintly in return, “You’re a hell of a lady, Lady,” she batted her eyelashes, “Oh, I know.~”

A Week Later --

Lady was in your room with you and the door was closed, the two of you spoke of your plan of how you would drop the bomb on your half demon boyfriend.

“Do you really think Vergil will accept it?” you asked just as the white haired man opened the door, “Accept what?” he asked coolly. Lady closed her mouth and first looked at Vergil, then to you, “I’ll just let you guys have some alone time,” she slinked past the Sparda man and closed the door behind her. His gaze never left you and his strong features were unmoved.

You attempted to embrace him as you wrapped your arms around his neck but he gave you a slight push away before you could place a kiss on his cheek. “Will you tell me what you were talking about?” You bit your lower lip and hesitated to confess to him. Vergil took hold of your chin with his fingertips, “Speak.”

You swallowed hard, his blue eyes did not waver and they were just so beautiful that you couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I’m --- pregnant,” you whispered. It was like time moved to slow motion, Vergil observed each syllable that came from your lips. Pregnant? Pregnant. Pregnant.

A twitch in Vergil’s furrowed brows caught your attention, it proceeded to twitch several times before he closed his eyes and released his grip on your chin. “How?” You shrugged, “I thought we were careful every time, even with our more adventurous hookups.” He didn’t speak and just listened, “Why?”

“Why?” you repeated, “That’s what happens, Vergil. I can’t really make it anymore clear.” As per usual, you couldn’t read him and his thoughts were a mystery to you.

“So, I’ll be a father once again. At least I’m currently aware of this one.” he sighed.

“Two,” you interjected. It was as if you could see his ears perk up when you mentioned a number higher than he assumed. “Two? Another set of Sparda twins...” he was quiet before you could see a small smile on his lips. Vergil called for you to come to him, which you obeyed.

He wrapped his right arm around your upper half. His left hand rested on your stomach with a loved filled touch. His chin rested on top of your head as he imagined what they looked like and what life would be like in several months.

He thought to himself, maybe -- just maybe -- he truly deserved a happy life, despite all the things he had done. He now felt a stronger urge to want to be around you, the babies, and even Dante more.

“Do I deserve this happiness, [Y/N]?”

Your hand rested on his that was still on your stomach, “Of course. You always have.”

#devil may cry #dmc #dante sparda x reader #dante x reader #dante sparda #vergil sparda x reader #vergil x reader #vergil sparda #devil may cry x reader #devil may cry imagine #dante imagine #vergil imagine #pregnant!reader #did you catch my knocked up reference #lmao my fave part

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rebelwrites · 4 years ago

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Secret Relationship

Harvey Specter x Reader

Summary: The reader and Harvey have known each other for years, despite the age difference something changes for both of them.

Prompt: “I apologise sincerely if my handsome face has kept you awake all night.”

A/N: this was a similar dream I had last night and was the inspo I needed to write.

Join The TagList Here 💜 // Harvey Specter Masterlist // Rebels Writing Challenge Masterlist

Neither of you knew how it happened, it just did. One day you saw the one and only Harvey Specter in a different light and he was the same with you.

You had known him for years with him being a friend of the family, and you always had a crush on him but never acted on it because let’s face it you were ten years younger than him and he was your dad’s best friend. But that didn’t stop you swooning over him every time he came round for dinner or when he would help you with your studying.

But fast forward to you finishing law school, he helped you land a job at the firm.

It was a week before you were due to start as an associate, which was a perfect excuse to go shopping to get a more suitable wardrobe for work. So here you were on a Friday night sorting your wardrobe out to make room for your new clothes when you heard your doorbell ring, leaving you slightly puzzled as you weren't expecting anyone and hadn’t ordered food yet.

Pausing your music, you made your way to the door, the only sound was your bare feet on the hardwood floor. Without thinking you opened the door to see Harvey standing there, with that goddamn smile that made you fall for him all those years ago.

“Harvey” you said, looking down at your appearance and suddenly feeling self conscious as you stood there in your plaid pyjama shorts and a vest top with no bra on. Your hair was a mess from not long getting out the shower and you had no makeup on.

“What are you doing here?” You finally managed to mumble letting him into your apartment.

“Well I thought I would stop by as we never celebrated you finishing law school and landing a job at the firm” he smirked waving the bottle of scotch in his hand.

“Urm yeah sure” you mumbled as your skin heated up from embarrassment. “Let me go get changed”

“Sweetheart what’s got you all nervous?” He asked with a smirk on his face as he stepped closer to you.

He knew, of course he knew. This was Harvey Specter. He wasn’t stupid. And you were damn sure he could hear how fast your heart was pounding against your rib cage.

The words were stuck in your throat, your feet were frozen in place.

“You don’t need to get changed okay” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “In fact I’m going to get changed myself”

“You don’t have any clothes here Harvey” you mumbled feeling confused about why he would be getting changed.

“I brought a change of clothes with me” he winked, picking up his duffel bag from your sofa, the bag you were too preoccupied to notice.

So here you were standing in the middle of your apartment feeling like a teenage girl again. Trying to decide if Harvey was actually flirting with you or if you had made it all up in your head.

“Everything okay sweetheart?” Harvey asked, squeezing your shoulders.

“Yeah why wouldn’t it be?” You stuttered mentally cursing yourself. “But isn’t this inappropriate?”

“Why do you ask that?” He asked.

“Because you are my dad's best friend Harvey, there’s ten years between us and come next week you will essentially be my boss” you sighed realising that this might be the best you would get with the man you had spent so many nights dreaming of.

“Listen to me okay” he whispered, spinning you around so you were facing him, his hands resting on your hips and his thumb gently grazing your skin. “I don’t know when it happened but recently I can’t get you out of my head, and I guess I wanted to test the waters. I know that the timing probably isn’t great but I can’t hold back any longer. And don’t say you don’t want this to happen because I’ve seen the looks you give me when you think I’m not looking”

“This has got to be a dream” you mumbled biting down on your lip.

“If this was a dream would I be able to do this?” He smirked before his lips made contact with yours.

It took you a couple of seconds to realise what was happening. But the moment you did your arms wrapped around his neck and he pulled you closer to him. It was like your body was electric, the sparks you felt as he deepened the kiss, it was like you were floating. And you didn’t even realise he had walked you back to your sofa until you landed on the soft fabric with him on top of you.

“Do you think we can make this work?” You whispered against his lips, your eyes still closed.

“I’m willing to give it a try if you do” he whispered before gently kissing you again.

You and Harvey had now been dating for seven months now and not a soul knew. How you had both managed to keep the relationship secret when you basically worked together you had no clue. But you didn’t realise things were going to get harder.

Letting yourself into his apartment, a smile graced your face as the smell of your boyfriend filled your senses making you relax. Harvey was still at the office but that didn’t mean you couldn’t start dinner. You knew he would be stressed when he got back but you didn’t realise that would lead to your secret being harder to keep.

You were in your own little and didn't hear Harvey get back until you felt his arms wrap around your waist and his head rest on your shoulder.

“God I love getting home to find you here in just my shirt” he whispered “you make the shitty days better”

“What happened in the meeting?” You asked as you span around, running your hand through his hair.

“As punishment I’m now in charge of the associates” he whispered.

“Well we will just have to be even more sneaky then won’t we” you whispered trying to keep him calm. “You might have to calm down on the sneaky kisses”

“Nope not doing it” he pouted “your kisses get me through the day”

“We will figure something out” you whispered, kissing him softly.

It was now the next morning and tired was an understatement considering Harvey kept you up most of the night. Wandering into the kitchen you grabbed your smokes on the way and headed out to the balcony. To find Harvey sat out here reading the paper. He had already brought your coffee out with him.

“Go easy on me today” you laughed. “Seen as it is your fault I’m so tired”

“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time sweetheart” he winked putting his paper down. “But I apologise sincerely if my handsome face has kept you awake all night.”

“Hmmm” you winked while lighting your cigarette.

“I best get going” he smiled standing up placing a kiss on your head “I shall see you at the office”

Walking through the office with a very large coffee in hand you knew you were late but didn’t care you needed the caffeine today. What you didn’t expect was to see Harvey sat at your desk, leaning back in your chair.

“Nice of you to join us today, miss Y/L/N” he scolded.

“Morning to you to” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him.

“Less of the attitude please, you show up late to work and have the audacity to sass me” Harvey snapped shaking his head. “I’m pulling you on the case you were working on and you can find yourself going over the 30 briefs that are in the filing room and I want them done by lunch”

“But” you tried to speak but he interrupted you.

“No buts now go, they aren’t going to read themselves” he smirked as he pulled his phone out.

As you were walking to the file room your phone buzzed.

New message: Specter 💜

Great acting baby, don’t worry there is only like two briefs I’m not gonna do my girl dirty like that 😜 x

Shaking your head as you pushed the door open. You saw Donna leaning against the desk with a smirk on her face. Since you started working at the firm you and her got extremely close.

“So Y/N is there anything you want to tell me?” She grinned.

“Urm Nope” you shrugged, placing your bag and phone on the desk. Forgetting that your phone was unlocked and your background was you and Harvey laid in bed.

“You may want to keep your phone locked if you don’t want people to know about you and Harvey” she whispered.

“Oh shit” you panicked fumbling for your phone.

“It’s fine I knew about you two a couple of months ago” she smirked “I mean it didn’t take me long to out two and two together”

“Please don’t say anything” you pleaded.

“Only if you come for drinks tonight and tell me everything” she grinned.

“Deal” you nodded just as Harvey walked into the room with that cocky smirk on his face.

“I shall leave you two alone” Donna winked “don’t worry I will text you if anyone comes”

As she walked off she smirked at Harvey before leaving the room.

“What was that about?” He asked as he pulled you close to him.

“She knows about us” you laughed.

“Of course she does” Harvey chuckled “she is Donna after all”

“I think it’s time we came clean with my dad” you whispered.

“I was thinking the same thing sweetheart how about we invite him over for dinner tonight and don’t worry no matter what his reaction is I will still be here and it will not change how much I love you” he smiled kissing you softly.

#harvey specter oneshot #harvey specter imagine #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter #suits imagine #suits x reader #suits usa

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mkellc · 2 years ago

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𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝘂𝗽 𝗳𝗼𝗿 @ahoyren !!

hiiiiii

you requested stranger things and percy jackson and i really wanna write for both these fandoms but i have other matchups i need to do aswell i’m sorry, but i hope you still like this one!

i had to ruin my blog aesthetic for this grrr but its ok bc I adore this character

(also, we are one in the same bestie, I have literally the exact same style and hair and im also a intj, and have the same music taste 🙏🙏)

ok sorry for rambling here’s your matchup:

𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗺𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗼𝗻 !!

eddie is a more laid back, goofy person who likes to have fun and is very immersed in his interests, specifically being a nerd for dnd and playing guitar. His personality is sarcastic and humorous as well as his outward appearance being almost scary. although people say “opposites attract” i think the same goes for people who are similar. which is exactly the case for you and eddie. this is because of your similarities of being passionate with your interests and being a bit intimidating on the outside. also the fact that the different things you both love are rlly nerdy (lol me too) so it would just be two nerds in love, what a great match.

hcs:

the first time eddie saw you he was like “whoa,… cool”

your style and hair immediately caught his eye

he watched you from afar for a while, noticing your sarcasm and wit before deciding to approach you

when he did he was met with almost complete silence, which he was not expecting

but he was interested in how you were shy and quiet even though he had seen what you’re like around your friends

he started finding excuses to hang out with you and be around you because you were so intriguing that he wanted to know more about you

eventually you became very close friends and then lovers 🤩

he admires your passion for the things you love and finds your music taste awesome

he always asks if he can read whatever you’re writing and if you say no he’s just like “damn,” but if you say yes he will grab the paper/whatever you’re writing on and twirl around with a smile then read it

he lets you borrow his rings

he tries to teach you how to play guitar but won’t let you touch his guitar (like bruh it’s not that deep just gimme the guitar) eventually he will let you touch it though

but if you like singing he will play guitar to some songs you like so you can sing them if you want

i like to think eddie’s love language is mostly quality time, but im sure he would also love physical touch once he finds out that you like it, and he would try his best with words of affirmation

because he is so much taller than you, he would love trying to pick you up for you to wrap your legs around his torso and kiss you that way rather than leaning down

in an argument, neither of you want to back down, but most times you decide to be adults about it and solve it rather quickly. and then one of you (usually eddie) is like “um, y/n, can we go get pizza now?”

overall your relationship is full of fun and inside jokes, you always make each other laugh and each of you become another thing the other is crazily passionate about

a/n: i’m sorry if i got eddie’s personality wrong or wrote their or anything, this is the first time i’ve written for him and he hasn’t been in the show that much yet either lmao 💀

i hope you like it and i’m rlly sorry if you don’t but either way have a good day/night!! <3

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things #matchups

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keigelsss · 4 years ago

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Hard At Work - Kuroo Tetsuro

a/n: HERE IT IS!!!!! it’s really bad. i struggled. i just wanted to get it over with but this idea weighed heavily on my mind for so long and i cant seem to get it out the way i want so this is the bare minimum with what i was trying to go for sorry :/

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, timeskip!kuroo, dom!kuroo, language, teasing, literally half the fic is foreplay oops, smut, oral sex, unprotected sex (no glove no love y’all), kuroo smacks your ass once, sir kink?, SIZE KINK, belly bulge, overstim, squirting, creampie, as always my shitty writing. *thoughts in italics… if i forgot a warning pls lmk*

Summary: you never thought you’d find yourself in this situation, let alone with the man in charge of your paycheck. luckily those files weren’t that important.

word count: 4.7K

You’ve only been working in this position for about two months now, assistant to one of the smartest sports promoters in the country. It’s a wonderful job and you get to meet star athletes almost every day, but what wasn't in the job description was the super hot promoter that you would be working under literally. If you thought it was hard coming into work with someone so damn attractive, the amount of teasing that went on in and outside of the office was insufferable.

Your day began like every other; come in, bring Kuroo some coffee, a full list of the day's meetings and tidy up in his office. While setting the coffee on his desk, you anticipate what comment he’ll make about the lack of a baked good to accompany his beverage.

“Awe Y/n, looks like you forgot to bring something to munch on again,” he was currently going through emails while twirling a pen in his hand. That scheming smirk that you’ve come to recognize all too well plastered all over his smug face.

“I’m sorry, Kuroo, they were all out at the café.” You placed your belongings on the small desk located in the corner of his office, spending some time to go over today's schedule as well as sort through a few contracts and client files.

“It’s all good,” he let out a soft chuckle. “You could always let me eat you instead, shortcake.”

You gave a pointed glare to the man before sighing and closing the file cabinet you just finished sorting. “I think it’s best if we get to work, we’ve got a long day ahead of us, sir.” he sends the smallest smirk in your direction then returns to his tasks. Shit... Did I mean to make it come out like that? Whatever he always teases the ever-living hell out of me so it's about time I had my share of the fun too, it’s only fair. Right?

Most of the day was uneventful, the typical routine coming and going without any interruptions. At around 4 pm though, you found yourself swamped with far more paperwork to go through than usual as well as having to scan and digitally file. We didn't have this many meetings today, did we? I just did a stack like this… Most of these need Kuroo’s signature, they shouldn't be on my desk.

Raising your head you shifted your gaze, letting your eyes land on him. He’s seated only ten feet in front of you behind his desk but today it seems like an entire mile. Did he always look that good going through his messages?

While gathering the papers that were wrongfully in your pile and saying a quick prayer to anyone out there, you walked over to sit in one of the matching seats opposite him. Placing the folder down softly to not mess up the flow of his work. He instinctively moves his elbow away to make room for the file and side-eyes it momentarily.

“Just give me two minutes here and I’m all yours sugar,” he says with a quick smile in your direction.

Humming your response and relaxing into the chair you take the time to admire his features. The messy but somehow put together hair that, according to his long-term clients and friends, has been that way since childhood. The sharp features of his cheeks and jaw, his pink lips permanently resting in his signature smirk that can mean an infinite number of things as you’ve come to find out. A muscular neck that is far too appealing for your taste, broad shoulders leading to strong arms, and an equally muscular chest. It’s no doubt that he is built like a god under that dress shirt, it fits him so perfectly it's almost offensive.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts of the man in front of you that you don't even notice how he moves his body, giving all his attention to you.

“Stare any longer sweet girl and you're gonna start drooling all over that cute outfit of yours.” His deep chuckle vibrates through you, definitely causing something to happen deep in the pit of your stomach. Your body was so hot and your throat was so damn dry from the way he was looking back at you. Is he undressing me with his eyes? Fuck! I’m one to talk, I’m doing the same thing.

“Uh it looks like some papers of yours got in my pile, if you can sign them, I’ll finish scanning and get out of your hair.”

You sat up to hand him a pen then rest your palms against the desk. Those pieces of paper are the only thing separating the two of you and it helps you keep a grasp on reality for the time being.

He toyed with the edges of the folder, lifting just the corner, not even bothering to read over the contents. “Yeah, I put them there thinking it would keep you in the office just a bit longer but you caught on to my plan faster than I thought.” He met your gaze with a semi defeated smile.

“You thought I wouldn't notice at all? Kuroo, I thought you were supposed to be the mega genius here because I had just filed all of those this morning.” A sudden boost of confidence ran through your body and your hands found their way to the folder and started mimicking his previous action that, hopefully, would drive him just as crazy as it did you. Your cold fingers delicately traced above his watch then to his forearms, stopping right where he cuffed his sleeves. A small hiss escaped him through his teeth followed by an airy laugh.

“Call it an experiment.” You couldn't help but giggle at his response.

He suddenly moved back, completely reclining and relaxing in his chair. He went to loosen up the tie around his neck and even went as far as to open two buttons on the restricting shirt. Cheeky bastard.

Kuroo cleared his throat. Resting his elbow against the arm of his chair, chin resting in the palm of his hand. “I bet I can tell what you're thinking right now, shortcake,” he continued to roll his chair back slightly.

Without giving a second thought you moved around to his side of the desk, sitting and leaning on the end farthest from him. You conjured up the best comeback your normally shy and reserved self would never think of, but right now, it's war.

“Oya oya? Tell me, boss, what am I thinking right now?” you finally turned your gaze towards him, pulling off the most convincing innocent eyes you had.

He stood up from his seat, taking the slowest steps toward you and stood right beside your small body. His large hands are dangerously close to the edge of your skirt. If he could feel how hard your heart was beating in your chest you’d be done for.

That contagious laughter of his booming throughout the room once more. He’ll never admit it but your teasing words sound a lot like him.

“Well if the way you're clenching the hell out of your thighs right now isn't the biggest sign.” His calloused fingers finally make contact with the exposed skin on your legs and slowly rise to trace the curves of your body. Finding a place to rest on your jaw with his thumb gripping your chin forcing you to look directly at him. “I’d say you're thinking of all the different ways I could make you cum on my desk,” his thumb began to slowly trace your lower lip.

You were barely aware of the small moan you let out while fluttering your eyes closed. “Let's say you're right Kuroo,” you nearly choked on the lack of saliva in your throat. “What else am I thinking?” your response barely above a pathetic whimper.

He let out a happy sigh as he placed his thumb between your lips, pressing slightly to signal you to open up. That sigh quickly turned into a small moan when you let your tongue slip from your mouth and wrapped your lips around the digit. Years of hard work and skill evident in the sensation of his thumb pressing against your tongue.

“You’re probably thinking about my cock filling every inch of your tight little pussy,” he moved to stand between your legs, his other hand finding residence on your hip and squeezing the clothed flesh possessively. “Or maybe you’re thinking you might just have the upper hand here because you caught on to my little trick,” he began to mess with the hook and zipper on the side of your skirt. Lowering the piece of flimsy metal agonizingly slow.

“If that’s the case then you're seriously mistaken sweetheart also when it's just us, call me Tetsuro,” he whispered his name in your ear and if you weren't trying to match his teasing energy, you would’ve made the first move but the build-up was so much better.

He finally let go of the zipper on your skirt and began to pull it slowly down your thighs, all while maintaining eye contact. He slowly removed his finger from your mouth and trailed any lingering saliva along your bottom lip and down your jaw before his hand found comfort around your neck, offering the softest squeeze, eliciting yet another breathy moan from your lips. If only you knew how much those sounds of yours were causing him to short circuit.

“Tetsuro. If there’s anything I know very well, it's my place in this office.” You kept steady eye contact while attempting to squeeze your thighs together.

Kuroo noticed your struggles and continued to strip the skirt from your body. Your lower half was beginning to burn with anticipation. His long fingers then traced the outline of your panties, if he looked any closer he would see the little wet spot forming right at your entrance. He lightly pulled on the thin material and snapped it back against your body, a small chuckle rising from deep in his chest because of how cute and responsive you are to his actions.

“And where is that exactly?” He can't help but tease you, even though his cock is absolutely suffocating, he still wants to make sure you know who’s in charge.

“I'm an employee on your payroll, aren't I?” your voice was so soft, focusing more on steadying your breathing. He began to run the back of his hand along your hip and grazed his knuckles against the area that you ache for him the most, a throaty sigh escapes you and some of that newfound confidence as well. Where the hell did she come from?

“It only makes sense that my position is under you.” Kuroo is slightly surprised by your response but he can tell that you’ve had enough of his teasing just like he’s had enough of having to come up with new ways to fluster you. Now it seems that all his prayers are being answered, he finally has you to himself all alone in the office, and there’s only one thing on his mind after hearing the words slip from your lips. “That’s definitely the right answer, but I hope you don’t mind if I spend some time on you first?”

His fingers were now pulling the fabric of your panties down and off your body, he never breaks eye contact, rubbing his hands all over your legs and occasionally squeezing your soft skin. He finally returned to eye level and placed both hands on your cheeks, bringing you in for a hot and desperate kiss. He managed to push you further onto the desk so you can rest comfortably, the cold sensation of the wood on your bare skin forced a tiny gasp to escape.

Kuroo began to play with the buttons of your blouse, pulling on the material. By the time he gets to the last button, you’re halfway done removing his, finally seeing the strong body underneath it all. Hot. Once he had you completely undressed he took a single step back. Biting his lip and admiring your body.

“You’re so god damn sexy.” He came back to you, hot mouth leaving kisses all over your neck and chest. He spent some time on each of your breasts, sucking and biting on your sensitive nipples, sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. His hands hooked under your knees and spread your legs. You're practically dripping onto his desk by now and can’t help but grind your hips against nothing, desperate for some sort of relief.

“Someone's a little needy, huh?” his breath was hot against your stomach and fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. Once he got on his knees in front of you, his fingers found their way to your throbbing center. Slowly parting your folds and massaging your sensitive hole with perfect pressure. “Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ wet too,” with his other hand he used his thumb to play with your clit. You threw your head back, letting out a soft moan as you made contact with the desk below.

Kuroo wasted no time putting your legs over his shoulders, leaving wet kisses along your thighs and placing several on your hips. He finally placed a kiss on your clit, causing you to yelp and buck your hips against his face. “You taste better than I imagined baby girl,” he licked a stripe through your folds, then sucked on your clit softly. “Mmm it feels so good!” you’re a moaning, whimpering mess already. Kuroo has to use his hands to keep you still but he’s humming happily while lapping up all you have to offer him and you can't help but shake. “Am I making you feel good, pretty girl? Your cute little pussy is so sensitive huh?” his tongue was replaced with one of his fingers gathering up your slick and slowly entering you.

“Yes yes fuck I love it. I want your cock. Please.” you looked at him through lidded eyes sucking your bottom lip harshly in between your teeth. He can't help but smile at how cute you look begging for him. “Relax baby girl, we’ll both get what we want but I gotta work you up a bit more.” He added another finger curling them a little to find your sweet spot, while sucking on your clit. He knew he found it when you squeezed your thighs around him and called out his name. Your walls twitching around his fingers, reaching your first climax of the day.

He pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, sucking off every bit of your juices, moaning in sheer delight. Another kiss was placed on your clit before he began a trail of them to your neck and jaw, teeth sinking into your skin. One of his hands caressed your cheek as he kissed you on the lips, your taste and his hot breath sending another wave of arousal through you and you moan into his mouth. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “Wanna make you cum with my tongue one more time okay sweetheart?”

You wanted to whine and throw a fit but his mouth was magical and you weren't one to complain. With a small ‘okay’ and another kiss on the lips he made his way to your pussy once more, already swollen and ridiculously sensitive. He began with the same rhythm as before, soft groans of satisfaction driving you wild. The grinding of your hips against his face only became more violent when he added his long fingers. Finding that same spot as earlier.

“F-fuck oh fuck I’m gonna cum!” you arched your back off the desk and brought a hand to your chest massaging squeezing your nipples. The only thing you hear before your orgasm rips through you is the loud squelching of fingers inside your pussy and his moans of praise. When you open your eyes and finally come back to earth, you see Kuroos face, hand and wrist covered in your juices. “I haven't even fucked you yet and you squirted just like that? You're gonna be the death of me Y/n.”

You giggled a little, hiding your face in embarrassment, body still trembling from the intense orgasm. Of course that smart mouth of his is sinfully skilled. He moved your hands out of the way, intertwining his with yours, lifting you and pulling you into another kiss.

You let go of his hands running yours along his toned chest, leaving small scratches, quickly removing his belt and slacks. You squeal at how big he looks in his boxers, his cock begging to be free. Pulling the waistband down and letting it drop to his feet, you moan at the sight. A small bead of precum forming at the tip, now an angry red from being neglected for so long. “I wanna make you feel good too Tetsu.”

Before you can drop to your knees for him he puts his hands on your hips, rubbing soothing circles. “Next time gorgeous, I wanna feel you right now.” he lifted you off the ground, legs wrapping around his waist and lips meeting in a sloppy mess of teeth and tongue. One of his hands made their way to your ass, squeezing softly before landing a smack. You moaned in response and ground your hips against his throbbing member, the tip creating glorious friction against your folds. He finally placed you back on the desk then fisted his cock a few times, running the tip against your folds and teasing your entrance.

“Want you inside me now Tetsuro. Please.” your chest was heaving in desperation and he loved that he made you like this. “Okay sweet girl. If it’s too much let me know.” You gave him a small nod and he kissed you while letting himself slip inside your warm walls. You were already so wet from before but he was so long and thick that the intrusion was slightly painful.

“Holy shit! you’re so damn tight.” he says through gritted teeth.

You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tugging softly on his hair when you feel him bottom out inside you. He lets out a few puffs of air because it's taking all his willpower not to cum with the way your pussy is gripping onto him right now. You let out a few whimpers and he checks your face for any signs of discomfort before retracting his hips and thrusting into you. You make eye contact with him, he’s absolutely mesmerizing with that lusty look in his eye and a small layer of sweat on his forehead.

“S-so big Tetsu. It feels so good.” you squeeze your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer to you and he groans in response. He begins to thrust into you slowly, still trying to keep his cool but finding that sweet spot inside you every time. “Oh you're gonna make me cum with the way you are clampin’ down on my cock like that sweet thing.” he shifts the angle of his thrusts and cages your head between his arms. His large upper body casting a shadow over you that makes you shiver. You can see the way the muscles on his forearms and biceps are flexing with every thrust. How he’s looking down at where you two are connected in pure fascination, tugging his lip between his teeth.

Using his arms to push off the desk, he tugs your hips to the edge and keeps his fingers embedded in the soft flesh, meeting each of his thrusts. You lift yourself as well, resting on your elbows and watching him. You notice a small bump on your belly each time his hips meet yours and it's enough to have you roll your eyes back. Holy fuck now that’s different. Kuroo noticed your surprise and pressed a hand against your tummy, making you feel him even deeper if possible.

“I’m right there baby girl. Can you feel it?” You feel as though you're being split open but it hurts so good. His stare and dominating aura so sinful and addictive, you know you're in trouble. “Yes it feels so good. I love your cock.” He feels you fluttering around him and picks up his pace. The sharp sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the office along with his animalistic growls.

“Is that right. You gonna cum on this cock, like a good girl?” his thumb found your clit, working small circles. “Make a mess all over my desk? Let me cum inside this tight pussy?” his thrusts were reaching deep, that bulge in your tummy only looking bigger now. You tried meeting his thrusts halfway, your hand gripped his wrist and you neared another orgasm. “Y-yeah, oh fuck. please. I wanna cum so bad. wanna make you feel good too, sir.”

At the last word you said he thrusted into you once more. your walls fluttering around him bringing his release as well, he hunched over with a groan and found your lips as he spilled his seed inside you. The warmth filling you up and making you feel nothing but bliss. Your ankles locked around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, keeping him buried inside you while you caught your breath’s.

He pulled away first, watching as his cock slipped from your tight hole, both of you letting out a sharp breath from the sensitivity. His cum followed right after, dripping down onto his desk. The sight of your clenching pussy and the mess was enough to get him hard again. He wants as much as you’re willing to give him. Lifting your upper body he pulls you in for another kiss, this one a bit sweeter.

You pulled away and began kissing his jaw. “I want more.” You said looking up at him with bright eyes. Your makeup is messy but you still look delicious as ever.

He gave you a playful grin and a peck on the lips. “You read my mind gorgeous.”

He spun you around and bent you over the desk, pressing your body into the wood but not enough to hurt. His fingers slowly ran down your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You turn your head slightly so you can see him, right now he looks intimidating as ever. Large muscular body towering over you, one hand gripping your ass and the other teasing the head of his cock along your folds. He can see how your dripping hole is clenching around nothing, your frame trembling from previous orgasms. He's so damn overjoyed that he slips right inside you, not wanting to waste another second outside of your tight pussy.

The stretch that he provided was nothing you've felt before, he was definitely the biggest you’ve been with. You felt every ridge and vein, every twitch, you still feel him in your stomach. Nothing beat how warm he is though, flooding every nerve with heat and electricity.

He set a brutal pace, balls slapping against your clit each time, making you cry out and moan incoherent versions of his name. His left hand gripped your thigh and hitched your leg on the desk, the shift in position causing him to drag the tip of his cock perfectly against your g-spot. “Right there Tetsuro, feels so fucking good.” you ached your back in ecstasy.

The hand he had hooked under your knee creeped up your thigh and rested on your hip. He used the other to raise you off the desk and wrap around you. His warm hard chest pressing into your back and his large, rough palms massaged your tits. You can feel his warm breath on your ear and you shiver when he groans. The deep rumble of his chest crashing into you like a wave.

Hearing his moans right in your ear was like heaven, the feeling of his cock twitching inside tells you he's close. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum so fuckin’ hard. Your little cunt’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight. You gonna be a good girl and let me cum inside again?” his rough pounding turned into slow, deep strokes. Slamming into your sweet spot with pin-point accuracy.

“Please. Feels so good and I want your cum. Want it in me so bad.” his hand moved to your jaw turning your head, squishing your cheeks and leaving a sloppy kiss against your lips. You brought your arm up, grabbing his face, pulling him closer. You sucked his bottom lip between your teeth and he growled in response, slow thrusts gaining some more speed.

The hand he had on your hip made its way in front of you, fingers trailing softly against your swollen clit. Tears were pricking the corners of your eyes from overstimulation but you loved every second of it. “I want you to milk my cock, take all your filling like a good little shortcake and make a mess on this desk. Can you do that for me?” you only nod and moan your answer.

The intense eye contact between the two of you, mixed with his hard thrusts and rough fingers, make that tingling feeling in your core seem like the first one all over again. Your head falls back against his chest as your body locks up and shakes uncontrollably, the tight fluttering of your walls brought his release as well.

You can feel his warm load inside as he keeps fucking into you, allowing you both to ride out the intense wave of pleasure. All while massaging your clit, only bringing on another orgasm, making you squirt once more on his hand and desk. Feeling it drip down your legs, surely his too.

Once the rush of euphoria passed, you both fell forward, his cock still inside you as you both caught your breath. You were still quivering with aftershocks of pleasure when he slipped out of you, a mixture of both of your cum spilling onto the floor and down your thighs.

He stumbled back onto his chair and took a deep breath. Hypnotized by the way you’re still spread out for him to see, the beautiful sight of your plump ass becoming something he wants all the time. You finally sit up slowly turning to lean against the desk, legs feeling like noodles. Both of you catching the other staring and letting out a fit of laughter. He reached for your hand and pulled you down on the chair with him to relax, wrapping his strong arms around you.

“So, I was thinking, maybe I should give you a promotion.” he kissed the top of your head and you pinched his nipple teasingly. “Stop fucking around Tetsu.” he smirked and gave you a knowing smirk.

“We just did, sweet heart.” you rolled your eyes and nuzzled into his neck.

------------------------------------------------------

After resting for a while the two of you got cleaned up and dressed, tidying up the office so it didn't look like two people just fucked in it. Once you were done you both stood and looked out the window of his office, watching the sun disappear and the stars start to shine. He made a sound like he just remembered something.

“Do you wanna go out to get something to eat?” he looks at you while putting his coat on.

“I’d love to, I’m starving,” you grabbed your purse and put on your coat as well. “Oh, uh what time is it?” you ask him.

He lifted the sleeve of his jacket, looking at his watch and raising a brow. “That’s weird. My watch is stuck at 4:45.” you look at him in confusion.

A sudden burst of wheezing laughter echoes through the walls and you’re still wondering what’s so funny. He turns to you and looks at your face, melting at how cute and innocent you looked.

“I think you ruined my watch, Y/n.” he brings a hand up to your face moving a piece of hair that was out of place. You can't help but blush at his words, instantly turning away from him and opening the doors to his office.

“Well we’re even now because you ruined any other man for me.” You walked ahead of him in annoyance but he knows it won't last long.

He’ll have you screaming his name again in his bed in no time.

I wonder if he was joking about that promotion though…

———————————————————————

✨stay sexy my friends✨

Taglist: @bobabybo

a/n: if you made it this far... yooo... im so sorry you had to read this. it didn’t tickle the brain the way i wanted and i trashed it like ten times only to go back with what i originally started with but if you liked it and you feel a lil sum ;) lmk i would love feedback or what I could’ve done better. i don’t know what I want to do with this blog just yet but for now its just my thirsts and writings. i reply and like on @keigohoes im just stupid lol.

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gothhisoka · 4 years ago

Text

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 (𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔 𝖝 𝕱𝖊𝖒𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

Title: Worship

Pairing: Chrollo x Femreader

Warnings: Smut, minors DNI, 18+, explicit content

Word Count: 3116 (I promise it is worth it. Oh god is it worth it)

Note: This is from my cross-published fanfic called Hunter University! It is available if you click here on Wattpad and AO3. My fanfic is x OC, but I upload x Reader versions of some chapters here on Tumblr. In short, it is a dark academia college AU with Chrollo as the main love interest.

Background: You are an artist in college and Chrollo is your fellow classmate. You just returned from a night out at a ball, drunk. Chrollo appeared at the door to your dorm room as he promised he would after you danced with one another at the ball.

Chrollo was surprised you looked so intact. He was sure you would come waddling to the door in pajamas as you did the last time he visited your room. Although it had been an hour since the ball ended, your makeup hadn't smudged a bit. Sure, it was faded, and your hair was significantly messier, but overall you looked as remarkable as you did at the start of the ball.

Your tired eyes widened with surprise at the sight of him. He was just as unimpaired as you were. Though now he was missing his suit jacket. His hair had become slightly disheveled, losing its styled waves. He still had on those signature silver rings and little cross earrings.

You attempt to soak in his sight with your intoxicated brain. He looked even more captivating in this particular state.

“Hi…” was all you could utter.

“Can I come in?”

You realized he was waiting for your permission. He didn’t need it.

You stepped aside to let him in and shut the door. Your room was the same as the last time he saw it, with your drawings hung on the walls and lights strung above the desk. Their small bulbs reflected against the night-stained window.

Upon shutting the door, the tension noticeably rose. It was dark in the small space and you were alone. Chrollo took his black dress shoes off near the door, placing them neatly side by side.

So he plans on staying. You tried to hide a smile. The hour of his visit was surely suspicious. There could be only one thing on his mind.

"So what're you doing here?" you spoke nonchalantly, acting like you didn't just fantasize about what could happen in the next few minutes.

Chrollo opened and shut his mouth, his response escaping him. He turned back to you and used his eyes to convey a craving far deeper than any words could admit.

"I said I would come to find you, didn't I?" He said lowly.

He had begun to walk around the room, absentmindedly stopping at a piece of art from time to time. You were too tired to care. The collection included nature scenes, portraits of people he didn't recognize, anatomy studies, and...

He paused, noticing a drawing on the wall behind the place where the door would otherwise be covering.

It was a full-body anatomy study of yourself. To be specific, it would fit further in the category of a glorified nude. It was on a miniature piece of parchment sketched in charcoal. It was obviously you: the woman had your (hair color) hair and distinct mouth and nose. The paper was hardly noticeable amongst the scatter of papers. You wouldn't see it unless you had a careful eye such as that of Chrollo.

You hardly noticed when he reached the particular spot on your wall. Your tiredness had waned significantly with Chrollo's entrance, but it still fogged your mind.

Additionally, you had long forgotten about your secret behind-the-door location for your drawings that were not meant to be seen by a single soul.

Chrollo attempted to hide a mysterious smile. He turned to you, “You draw wonderfully.”

“Thanks?” you reply, with more question in your tone than you hoped to show.

The heat in the room shot through the roof. You were sure if you checked the temperature it would be well above its normal chilly state. Perhaps it was the heat in your cheeks that was causing such a change.

“So…” he began.

“So,” you replied, trying to avoid eye contact. Please, just let it happen already.

You thought you had a good idea of why he had come to your room at one o'clock in the morning after a night of drinking and questionably close dancing. You couldn't be certain, though, because that was just how he was: unpredictable and exceedingly complicated.

You didn’t think him so complicated as to not be able to admit why he was at your room, though.

You waited as he thought about what to say next. This is taking too damn long.

Luckily, you prepared an excuse. You never failed to come ready for something you could expect. And this, the direction in which your encounter is headed, is inevitable. You had been rehearsing the line in your head for the duration of their conversation like reviewing terms for a test.

This was the only way to test if your assumptions are correct.

Blame it on the champagne if I am wrong. But I really hope I'm right.

You look directly at him. Time to be daring.

You took a breath and did your best to look directly at him, "Well, I actually do need some help. You see, this dress is quite difficult to take off by myself..."

Walking towards him, you place a hand at the hem of your dress. Your delicate fingers wrap around its lacy fabric.

Chrollo looked amused. He sizes you up, looking from your hand holding the hem of your dress to your unfazed expression. Unfazed, yet your cheeks were slowly turning a shade of scarlet. Nice try, Chrollo thought.

He gestured, "Turn around."

You obeyed. You desired something far more than the unzipping of your dress, but you were not presumptuous enough to say it. The expression on Chrollo's face told you that he was hoping for the same thing. He hid many emotions well, but being turned on wasn't one of them.

Chrollo brushed your hair away from the zipper, delicately placing it over your shoulder. His fingers purposefully grazed your back as he did this, causing your breath to hitch slightly.

His hands moved to the zipper, carefully pulling it down. It went past the clasp of your bra to your lower back. There was complete silence. Both of you were still. Are we still hesitating?

Chrollo was the first to move. He pulled you close to him so that your back was touching him. His left arm wrapped across your chest possessively, holding you in a tight embrace. With his other hand, he brushed your hair back from your ear. He smelt of sweet alcohol. Clearly, he was slightly drunk as well, for the next words he said couldn't be uttered by a sober man.

His whispered breath tickled your neck, husky with the threat of sleep, "I want you so bad right now."

You tensed with a sudden surge of desire. Your impression had been right. He let his strong arm remain around you, patiently waiting for a response.

You choked out your reply, "The feelings' mutual."

Under his touch, your streak of audacity from earlier dissolved into compliance. You suddenly wanted nothing more than to submit to his words.

With complete control, Chrollo took your shoulder and turned you around. Your dress was now loose on your shoulders. He placed his hands around your hips firmly. He looked at you under his thick eyelashes and slowly leaned in. The pressure was growing to an unbearable level, but he still wouldn't go all the way.

Then his lips crashed against yours with the force of weeks of pent-up desire. This kiss didn't speak of courtesy, of patience. This was raw passion. It was furious and messy. you preferred this to sensitive steps around the intensity they both craved.

"You must still be drunk," you said playfully as you both pulled away to catch your breath. You held your hand to Chrollo's chest. His heart was beating surprisingly fast.

"If I'm drunk, then what are you?" Chrollo said with a lazy smirk.

"I'm drunk as well."

Chrollo threaded his hands through your hair, pulling the long strands through his fingers. He pulled you in close again with his hand at the back of your head.

You opened your mouth to allow for Chrollo's tongue to slip in. He lessened the intensity and slowly moved his tongue against your own tongue and lips. You couldn't help but let out soft moans that made Chrollo weak at the knees.

He pushed you against the wall to deepen your kiss. Drawings fluttered down, becoming detached with the sudden movement. Including that drawing.

Chrollo pulled away, much to your shock. You were left panting with reddened cheeks. Please don't let this end now.

He displayed a shit-eating grin. Even with his ego, in the current moment, his expression made you melt. His face was inches from yours, looking down into your (eye color) eyes.

He shifted his gaze down to the floor and said, "Nice drawing you have there."

You finally noticed what he had been so smug about. Shit. Your face flushed ten different shades of scarlet.

Chrollo leaned in as he did before and murmured in your ear, "I wish I could see the real thing."

You failed to not show your excitement. The way your eyes lit up exposed you. "I can arrange that."

At that, Chrollo leaned in again, this time moving to your neck. His lips fluttered down your throat to your collarbone. You leaned your head back and tried to control your uneven breath.

His lips reached the edge of the neckline on your dress. He raised his eyes to meet yours, asking for permission to go further.

You let out a breathy, "Yes. Please."

What you wanted to say was, Please, take me now.

It could be too soon for him. But based on how this was going, you expected it was leading to something more. Whatever that was, you wished you could know right now. The growing tension between your thighs began to ache.

Chrollo slipped his hand across your skin to the hemline of your dress, moving it completely off of your shoulder and down your arms. Your black see-through bra was now in full view. Your nipples grew hard at the sudden exposure.

At least I went with my fancy bra. You suddenly grew very shy. The last time you went even this far was years ago.

He evidently liked the lingerie for his hands immediately traveled to your breast to caress it as he continued to kiss you.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against your neck. Your heart fluttered at his words.

Chrollo then moved his lips progressively further down as he slipped your dress off of your body. Soon your underwear came into view, then your feet. He helped your step out of the dress.

"Your turn," you said, unbuttoning his shirt. All the while he continued to distractingly leave lazy kisses upon your face, one on your forehead, your cheek, your lips.

After an agonizingly long time, you pulled off his shirt. Fuck.

You knew he would be defined. But him, this boy standing in front of you, resembled more of a greek statue than an actual human. It looked like his body had been sculpted by the finest stone on earth. He had a six-pack, defined pectoral muscles, and prominent collarbones. His biceps flexed as he leaned his hand against the wall, bracing himself. It was you who needed to brace yourself. Your breath hitched again at the sight of him.

You ran a hand up his firm body as you planted your lips upon his once again. This time Chrollo put his hands beneath your thighs, his fingers pressing into your soft skin. He picked you up easily.

You wrapped your legs around him as he brought you to the bed, kissing him all the while.

He dropped you down gently, releasing his grip off of your thighs. You took this time to look up at him and admire the beauty of his aroused state. He had a dangerous and wild look, with tousled hair and a constant smile playing at his lips. His heavy-lidded eyes were lazily focused upon you.

You continued to make out on the bed, its white silk sheets creating an angelic halo around you. Chrollo couldn't stand looking at you like this, underneath him. It was far too much power for one man to hold.

You reached to your back to undo the clasp of your bra. You threw it to the ground. Chrollo immediately began to touch your naked tits in a way that made you want to dissolve. He moved in circles around your nipples first, watching as they grew harder under his expert touch. Then he moved his mouth to the sensitive area, playing with you and biting slightly. You audibly moaned at the gesture. Damn the neighbors.

Chrollo sensed your desire to take it further. He looked up, grey eyes filled with lust, "Y/n...let me pleasure you."

It wasn't the suggestion you were expecting, but you were satisfied nonetheless. You didn't care about anything in the world besides what he could do to you at this moment, whatever it may be.

"If you say my name like that you can do anything you want to me," you said breathily. It was exactly what he needed to hear.

Chrollo smirked and moved to take off your soaking underwear. Under his pants, his dick grew visibly harder. He threw the underwear onto the floor.

Gently placing his finger at your throbbing core, he began to stroke. Upon receiving his touch your back arched involuntarily. You were beyond eager.

"Fuck... Chrollo..."

This served as encouragement for him to insert his finger deeper into you, curling it slightly. It hit your g-spot repeatedly, eliciting ungodly sounds from you.

As he was doing this, he slowly positioned himself on top of you, grabbing onto the bed frame with his spare hand. He just wanted to look at your face as you opened your mouth in delight.

He inserted one more finger which caused your arousal to heighten. God, he really knows how to do this.

Just as you felt the heat in your core escalating, he slid his finger out. You whimpered in protest.

Chrollo looked down at you with a wicked smile. "Beg for it."

Oh fuck.

You gladly would. It was more your instincts speaking than any coherent thought.

"Please... Chrollo..." you said between breaths.

You wanted to not only plead for him, you wanted to worship him.

"More."

This is what you had been missing out on all those weeks. And oh god, did you eat it up.

"FUCK please do that again," you exclaimed.

It was enough to convince him. Chrollo moved his face towards your slickened pussy.

Is he about to...

He pushed his hair back out of his face with his clean hand, his forehead tattoo revealed. For only a second, he raised his eyes to gaze into yours. You fell for him all over again at that simple glance.

Then he entered you. His tongue made you want to weep. He devoured your insides, soaking up the salty juices. You couldn't help but hold his head, pulling it closer to your body. You ran your hand through his soft black hair. There was so much heat between them that you were both perspiring.

You began to shudder." I'm going to... oh... fuck," you gasped.

You felt the sweet release of cum spread below you onto the sheets and Chrollo himself. You felt self-conscious for a moment. That is until Chrollo began to lick up your juices. He ran his tongue up your soft thighs.

"You taste so fucking good, darling."

Chrollo looked at you like he had fallen all over again as well. You grinned back at him. Your cheeks grew even redder, if possible. Your heart screamed to continue but you were too physically exhausted to move. Still, wouldn't Chrollo want his turn?

You laid there, naked and panting on the silk sheets. Chrollo flopped next to you, unaffected beside his flushed cheeks and a wide grin.

The lights were still low in the little room. Looking out the window, you saw that the sun had yet to rise. This was a positive fact because the only thing you needed to do now was to sleep. And preferably, cuddling with the boy next to you. You hoped he would stay. It was more than hope, really. Your body couldn't spend any more time away from him after that.

Damn. He was good. He was really, really fucking good.

He knew his way with words, to begin with. He said exactly what needed to be said to escalate your arousal. You wanted to worship those fingers, the way he so expertly felt around you like he had memorized a map. And his tongue was even more worthy of revere.

You flipped over to your elbows. Your breasts brushed against the bedding, noticeably making Chrollo gulp. You boldly reached to touch the front of his pants.

"You don't want a turn?" you smirked.

"This was more than enough for me."

He stared into your eyes as if he was calculating a complex math problem rather than looking at the person who just received the best head of their life.

You yawned, despite yourself. Your body ached with all the action of the night.

"Go to bed, sweetheart. I'll be here."

Those were the last words you heard before your eyes drifted shut. Exhaustion stilled your naked body. Chrollo reached over you to turn off the bedside lamp.

He wasn't nearly as tired. He could've gone for a couple more rounds, perhaps take it a step further if you so desired. But he knew you needed the sleep. Most of your makeup had rubbed off, displaying the dark circles under your eyes.

He slipped off his pants and threw them onto the floor with the rest of the clothes. He found the soft sheets and pulled them across you and himself. The bed was small but cozy. His strong chest was flush against your back.

Your (hair color) hair smelt of a summer day, like sunlight and wildflowers. He took this opportunity to feel up the rest of your glorious body. He ran his hand lightly from your shoulder to your hips, to your thighs. All of it was angelic to him.

He moved you closer with his arm, protectively wrapping it across your front. Somehow holding you like this felt far more intimate than any sexual activity. The way the moonlight graced your skin was majestic.

How had he fallen so hard, so fast? It was unlike him to act with such recklessness.

Through it all, he still had his mind. you had no way to tell the extent of his feelings. He made sure of this. His libido could act one way, that was clear from tonight. But he was an expert at controlling his outward emotions. You would never know. If you did, it would be over for him. All the planning will be for naught.

He closed his eyes before he could fall upon any more worries. He had already pondered the issue for many sleepless nights.

He fell into a dreamless slumber with you safe in his arms. You both slept soundly until the sun peeked through the window.

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