#And in his own way be overprotective. Like not expressing directly hes worried but giving lots of comments of | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sinfulseashell · 2 years ago

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Meet Your Yandere Pt.6 (TR)

A/N: FINAL SET! Part 6 of 6! Enjoy 💖

Content Warning: Yandere Themed, Manipulative, Obsessive, Overprotective & Possessive Behavior.

Izana Kurosawa: Possessive/Manipulative (8)

This was wrong he knew it was, but even if you were Emma’s friend that wasn’t going to stop him from getting to you. He tried many ways to get your attention, being around you and Emma, talking to you directly, learning small things about you that he knew would get you to recognize him. For instance…he knew your favorite color, and favorite flowers so he would spontaneously buy them for you, also he knew that you loved people who were sweet and generous so he began to become softer…All. For. You, but did you bat an eye at him? No…you didn’t. Instead you went for him…why couldn’t it have been anyone else, you could have been with someone else…ANYONE else. Seeing you and Mikey together made his stomach churn, his blood boiling the hatred he had for Mikey which was only a calm dim light now turned into a raging fire.

“I changed…I changed for you, and this…this is how you repay me? By falling for him! That no good, idiotic, shrimp!” He growled, punching another hole in his wall as he sat down. “He is wasting your time…potential! You need someone better Y/N…you need me to lift you up and take you to the top! That lazy bastard will only drag you down…nothing but a peasant! That filthy mutt is nothing!” Suddenly a devilish smirk played across his lips as he chuckled darkly. “I’ll show you…I’ll show you exactly who you need.” With those words in mere weeks he would have you safely in his arms. He started off with your dates since he knew you so well, he also knew where your dates would be and the time making sure that Mikey would over sleep by of course having generous, sweet Emma over feed him. “You know…Mikey is getting…a little thin. Do you think he is eating right?” This of course worried Emma as his sister wanted to make sure that Mikey was well fed and healthy.

“Eat up!” She smiled while placing a large plate in front of Mikey. “Oi…Emma isn’t that a lot of food?” Draken asked, looking over at Mikey who happily began to eat it. “Hush Kenny…let her feed me. All she is doing is being a good sister.” He smiled brightly at Emma before taking another bite. Izana smirked as he ate his own food suddenly seeing Mikey falling asleep shortly after the meal, checking the time he noticed it was close to the date time with you already planning to meet at the restaurant he would take Mikey’s place instead. Mikey’s phone began to ping of course with message after message asking where he was, but being the good brother Izana was he didn’t want that noise to wake his sweet little brother so instead he silenced his phone making sure that Draken was well distracted with Emma in the process.

“You won’t have her…she belongs to me.” He muttered before taking his leave. Finally getting to the restaurant he saw you standing there waiting at the entrance, “Y/N? What are you doing here?” He gasped, acting as if he didn’t know you would be there. “Oh! Izana! Um…I was waiting for Mikey, but it’s been 30 minutes now and he hasn’t even read a single message.” You pouted, this made Izana’s heart skip a beat chest swelling with excitement from just that small expression you made. “He stood you up? That idiot…I swear…tch…he has the best person in the world who loves him and yet this is the stupid shit he does.” Facepalming he sighed now looking away and then back to you seeing small tears fall down your cheeks he was quick to cup your face, using his thumbs to wipe them away. “No…don’t cry over someone like him. He doesn’t deserve it, you need someone better Y/N, someone who will give the world to you on a golden platter.” His smile was soft which of course would make anyone blush, grabbing your hand gently he looked at you, “Let’s go inside. I know the owner well and we can get a reservation pretty fast and I’ll make sure you get your money back for your reservation too.” He hummed with your heart heavy from sadness that once overwhelmed you, you followed.

“This isn’t the first time Mikey has done this to me…” you spoke softly while keeping your eyes trained to your fiddling hands. “He has done this before…countless times…ugh…I’m getting sick of him doing this to me. If he isn’t late to our dates then he is with Toman…all the time.” Izana raised a brow as he listened to you speak about how Mikey always put Toman first or his own needs first, ‘Looks like you have been messing up your own relationship…Manjiro.’ He scoffed as he placed his drink back down. “Y/N. I’m going to be honest with you…Mikey is selfish, he will always put his needs before yours and that’s how it will always be. If I was you then I would leave now before you get too attached to him or vice versa. He can be…needy.” Izana let the last word slip, seeing you tense up and look down. “Needy?” You whispered. Izana cleared his throat and furrowed his brows, “Did I say needy? I mean…,” now biting his lip combing his fingers through his white loc’s he sighed.

“Well you see how much he depends on Draken.” He spoke seeing your eyes widen, seeming to be deep in thought on what you got yourself into. “He does…depend on him alot…” you whispered finally seeing all those red flags that you chose to ignore. A sly smirk played across Izana’s lips hiding it behind his cup, “Sadly he does, and of course you don’t want that to be your life…do you?” He frowned and patted your hand, you shook your head to answer his question. “I thought so. Well it would be best if you let go, I mean you see the flags Y/N…don’t let false love and dreams hold you back from someone better. Someone who could be right in front of you…” your soft eyes slowly looked up meeting his lavender ones. “Like you?” your soft voice was just above a whisper. “Yes…someone like me.”

Kakucho Hitto: Overprotective/Obssessive (1)

You have known Kakucho all your life, hell the two of you were practically family or that’s how you thought of him. He on the other hand started to notice that lately you started to look more…appealing in his eyes, the once innocent, sweet little sibling that he would protect constantly started to grow into a beautiful, independent woman right before his eyes. “Hey Cho,” you smiled upon your arrival at his place. “Ready to go? I need help picking out an outfit for my date tonight.” You hummed while looking in your little compact mirror to fix your makeup and hair. Date…a word that he dreaded to hear over the years, but he started to hear that word more often and yet every time you said it the darker his mind would get.

Every dumbass person you would go to see always left on the 3rd date never to return only to leave you heartbroken and crying in his arms, the sight alone was painful yet you never gave up hope that you would find love sooner or later. “Y/N..” his mature voice echoed through the car. “A-are you sure about this?” He frowned, causing his grip on the steering wheel to tighten. “I mean you know what usually happens on these dates..” his voice trailed off not wanting to sound harsh. “Yes I’m sure Cho. I mean yeah I haven’t had a lot of good experiences in the dating world, but I want to find someone I truly care for and that will love me the same.” A crisp pain filled his chest hearing your words, you want to find love but the perfect person to love you is sitting right next to you…couldn’t you see that? “I understand that Y/N…but what if…what if…” he tensed up before finally just saying the words that were stuck in his throat.

“What if the perfect person was so close that you could touch them? What if the person loved you so deeply it hurt? Would it be bad to date someone you have known your whole life?” He asked. Seeing a soft smile play across your soft lips made his chest tighten, “Well…if they truly loved me then how come they haven’t said anything?” You asked this question so easily as if you knew his feelings, which in turn you knew deep down inside that he had feelings for you but something always stopped you…to put it plain and simple…you didn’t feel the same, only because you…yourself didn’t feel worthy of his love. “Now Cho, what if I knew how this person felt and yet…I didn’t feel worthy of their love. I’m not a good person…I have flaws and well frankly I can be toxic…what if…I don’t want to ruin the person that loves me?” At that moment the car stopped already in the parking lot of the mall, but neither of you moved, only the silence of thoughts filled the car. “You could never ruin me…” he spoke sternly. “You’re not toxic….you’re perfect. All of you…in every way…you’re perfect and if you can’t see that about yourself then I’ll make sure that you see how perfect you are every day…for the rest of my life. I love you…I have been in love with you since the first year of highschool…and I’m sorry.” Tears began to build up in his eyes as he continued to look straight ahead.

“It’s my fault…all those failed dates…it was me. I would always force those people to leave so…so they…” With every word he said tears streamed down his face more and more until he finally turned to face you. “I didn’t…I didn’t want them to take you from me.” He choked out. At that moment your breath hitched from his words causing you to tremble. “Y/N…c-can’t you see…I…I did it because they were bad people, and I didn’t want to lose you…” he hiccuped while grabbing your arm. “No Kakucho.” The way you spoke his name so sternly caused him to freeze in place. “All this time I thought I was a bad person…all this time I thought something was wrong with me. Only to find out…” you paused now, turning your head to look at him.

“It was you…” What stared back at you was watery eyes, the grip on your arm tightening now turning to look straight ahead your heart felt true fear as you decided to speak your last words. “You’re the bad person Kakucho…not them.” His eyes widened as his grip tightened, shaking his head and looking down as broken sobs filled the car. “NO! DON'T SAY THAT! Y/N! I LOVE YOU!” Just then he gasped upon hearing his name being called, “Cho? Cho? Kakucho!” Jumping from your loud voice he quickly looked at you seeing you smile so softly. “Are you ok?” You giggled. “You zoned out there for a moment, this is why I tell you that you need to start going to sleep early.” You sighed while patting his arm.

“Come on, let's go inside so we can hurry up and get back.” He nodded and watched you get out of the car trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He sighed, “No…it was just my imagination…I…I can’t let her go on this…date.” His dark eyes watched as you waited outside for him furrowing his brows. He decided at that moment, you wouldn’t be going to this date…and that was final because…he was the only person who could ever love you.

Taglist: @brownsugarmoonie @islascafe @mxnjiros @bontens-cum-slut @blkladyelle @rxmera-archive @rome-alone @miyuaditt @reiners-milkbiddies

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80s4life · 3 years ago

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Little Dove*

Word Count: 3,949

Status: Not Requested!

A/N: Had a thought lol

Fandom: Karate Kid 1985

Relationship: John Kreese x Student!Female Reader

Summary: You had stayed around throughout all of his bullshit. Throughout the beginning of a forever-long battle with Daniel LaRusso, throughout losing all of his Cobra Kais, going through crippling debt, and now, more than ever, as he tries to put himself together. You’ve been there, the whole time. So why is it, that when a random man from his past appears, all of his problems are fixed without a glance your way? What does this Terry Silver have that you don’t (besides endless money and a history)? It’s unfair. It’s selfish. It’s Kreese.

Taglist: @intersellars-the-alien-of-human @snapessecretdiary

Warnings: smut, teasing, jealousy, age-gap paring, language, Terry being an overprotective cockblock, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slight dubcon, daddy/little girl kink, degrading kink

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist

{not my gif, credits belong to @atmostories}

I just love how innocent he looks here lol ^

Staring into the window of his office, you make no attempt in engaging in the conversation your peers were having, the people on the other side of the glass proving to be more interesting at the moment. Besides, it’s the same conversation over and over again, “Terry’s so great,” “The money,” “The brawn,” “The elegance,” you snort. All that Terry was anyway was trouble with enough money to pay off his stupidity.

The other man, however, was different. He did not become as fortunate as his younger companion. He went through many hardships that Terry would simply never understand. The proof: you. You had been there, through thick and thin. You can still remember the fights, injuries, and brokenness of a man like a slideshow constantly playing in your head, haunting your dreams. You should’ve left a long time ago, but you didn’t. There were points in your life that made you consider dropping him and everything he was in contact with at one point. But, yet again, you never did. All you did was forgive and forget, most of the time without apologies.

But no matter how much you’ve tried, there was always one outlier that couldn’t be erased.

Holding onto your brothers shoulder, you congratulate him on how well he’d done. He lost the tournament, but it was his heart that shined through it. Johnny was the one who handed LaRusso his trophy even as they were beating each other senseless moments ago. Pulling him in tightly, you whisper, “You did good, Blondie. We’ll get ‘em next year.”

He smiles broadly at this, returning the favor, “You didn’t do too bad yourself, Tiny. Hell, maybe next year, you’ll be the one to beat his ass for me... That, or you’ll be the same height as him,” he ruffles your hair.

“Shut up!” you swat his hands playfully, shouldering his side, then making your way over to the man of the hour. “Congratulations,” you outstretch your hand, “You were tough to beat! I’ll get ya one day though!” you point to him smiling as Johnny pulls you out of the arena with him.

“Thanks...Oh, and I’ll hold you to it!” he yells back, lifting his trophy high above his head. You leave with a sly smirk and playful roll of the eyes, not bad LaRusso.

Walking outside, you smile at Kreese nervously, knowing that he wasn’t going to take the loss lightly. Ignoring you completely, he snatches your brother from your grasp within moments, pinning him the the nearest car in the parking lot. With Johnny under the weight of Kreese, you try to yank him off, no longer in fear of your actions but what could happen if you don’t act fast. Shoving you out of the way with a hard jab of his elbow to your eye, Kreese goes back to harming your brother, switching positions as he goes to tighten his arm around Johnny’s neck.

Tommy, fearing for his life, stands still, on the verge of passing out. Dutch goes to help you up, pulling you away from Kreese’s proximity, but not for long. Full of anger and disappointment, you tear you body away from Dutch’s, giving him a stern look that he acknowledges and respects, stepping back. You run towards Kreese once more, putting more force into your pushes and shoves. He catches your eyes for a moment, anger glazing over his own as he gets a good look at the utter helplessness and determination within your own. He doesn’t loosen up though, tightening his hold even more so as if to test you.

Lunging once more, he blocks you from him and counters with a hard blow to your face. You fall again at Kreese’s feet, Johnny’s purpling face looking down at yours in fear and worry. As you go to make a final attempt, your prayers are answered, a man about your height grabbing Kreese’s fist in a vice grip. In a daze, Johnny is able to slip from his hold to the ground beneath him, falling into your outstretched arms as you lunge, again, to protect his head. Kreese, now turning his fury onto the short man, goes for a punch, missing and smashing the glass beside his target.

As the fight starts to get worse, Dutch gets a hold of Johnny, taking his weight off of yours and dragging him to safety. Jimmy and Bobby, going to help Dutch, leaves Tommy to help you up. Taking his hand gratefully, you are able to see Kreese’s demise clearly, a burning crimson decorating his now busted fists, no doubt shredded and in need of medical care. You turn back just in time for him to look your way, grief washing over your figure as you feel a sense of uncertainty.

The boys get into Johnny’s car quickly, pulling out of the car lot. Tommy, silently turning his calming body to yours, questions you with his eyes. Shaking your head lightly, you signal for him to go with them, your head hazy with the brute force of numerous blows previously clashing with your face. He nods knowingly, smiling weakly, as if questioning your motives or even why you were considering the choice you’d made up. Johnny looks back at you too, but is reassured as the short man, Mr. Miyagi, places a hand on your shoulder. As they peel out of the lot, you sigh and all the strength you’d conjured dropped instantly.

“You need checkup,” the older man states, looking you over.

“Yeah, but I need to take care of him first,” you point at the man.

“Ah. Good heart always forgives. You come by dojo sometime.”

“I’ll think about it,” you answer, kindly excusing yourself as LaRusso runs over to Miyagi, leaving just you and Kreese left in the parking lot.

Slowly, you pace yourself as to not speed too closely, too quickly to the man, walking lightly and quietly. Upon entering a close proximity, he looks up, neutral expression catching you off guard. Blinking once, he looks back down at his continuously bleeding hands, acknowledging your presence but not daring to step the line of communication. He never does.

“Do you...Do you n- ...?” you start, at a loss for words as you try to rephrase the question in a way to still make him feel superior without appearing weak to himself, “Do you want my help?”

He doesn’t say anything as an answer, just simply stares at the reddening hands.

So, following his chosen behavior, you adopt it and act the same. Slowly, you take off your fleece sweater, soft and warm to the touch, and move closer to Kreese. As you move into his personal space, you don’t dare look him in the eyes, and go to rip a piece of the sweater in half. Silently, you carefully take one of his hands in your own, them swallowing yours in turn. Wrapping the now torn cloth around his fists, you slightly tighten the material around the injury to prevent further bleeding, tying off the ends to keep the sweater where you want it. Turning to do the same for the other hand, Kreese never winces, or sucks in a breath, or even grunts in anguish.

As you finish your duty, you step back, parts of your hands and some of your pants now coated in differing amounts of blood from the constant dripping mess he’d left it in for a while. Taking in a deep breath, you look at him directly for the first time of the night, “Get in the car.”

That was the first of many nightmares that litter your mind. You grew into a tough, headstrong, and independent woman not only physically, but mentally as well. You were no longer the child looked down from the tip of Kreese’s nose, and despite your height not making much of a difference, you had filled into your body, soul, and mind. You were a woman nonetheless.

You were understood by Johnny, but to an extent. As you had continued to serve Kreese, it was only right that Johnny distanced himself from him, and with that, came you as well. You accepted this, and knew that you were not at war with him, settling for calls and texts when you missed him most. Johnny still allowed you the time to talk about your problems like you did in high school, and even let you rant about the newest situation with Kreese. Everyday, he worried for you, but he knew that this was what you wanted.

He knew you fell for him before you even had.

After that night, you went through phases with Kreese: sometimes he was happy and nice to you, other times was full of anger, arguments, and nonstop screaming at one another. You were like an old married couple without the ring, matrimony, and age. You didn’t pay any mind to it, the mixture of feelings for him stronger than the will to leave as you’d wanted to in your youth.

But overall was the feeling of betrayal, or at least a form of it. For 4 years, after the night of the failed tournament, you were with Kreese, and finally, when things started to clear themselves out, another problem arose. Although shit out of luck, Kreese was ready to give up the dojo, give it to the owner, and move on in hopes of wiping the slate clean. You were ready to forgive him. And then, Terry Silver, unable to let the past be the past, convinced Kreese to give it a second try.

Now as you sit in a circle with Dennis, Mike, and Snake on the mat of the dojo, doing some stretches before training starts, you couldn’t help but look at the men excluding you from something you had tried to keep alive as long as they had. Longer than Terry at least.

Snapping sounds through your frustrated haze, knocking you back into reality by Snake’s fingers. Scrunching your nose in confusion, you look at him, anger now turned towards him instead. “You keep drooling like that and we’ll all be slipping around and breaking shit. Then how would we be at the tournament?”

“Fuck you, Snake,” you get up, stomping to the office without another word. He just turns a mock-offended expression to the boys who give confused ones in return.

Storming into the small cubicle deemed an office, you turn to the men standing side-by-side. “Aw, what’s the matter sweetheart? The boys not playing fair?” Terry teases, trying to push your buttons.

Face now reddened with anger, you spit, “We don’t pay for you to sit around in your office and play with each other’s dicks. You can do that on your own time.”

“You don’t pay period as far as I’m concerned. And last time I checked, you weren’t of much use here anyways, Shortcake,” Terry rebuttals.

“And last time I checked, you're just here to tie your hair back, paint your nails, torture a kid half your age and an man even older than you.”

“Why you-!”

“Terry!” Kreese warns, a hand placed on his comrades’ chest, “It’s not worth your time, just go get the boys readied up for practice.”

“Sure...sure Johnny, I can do that,” he says eagerly, leaving the room with a side glance your way and elbow to the shoulder as he passes by.

Getting up from the back of the desk, Kreese loops around to close the office door, going back to where he was previously. “Wow, you really have that dog under wraps huh? Ready to bark when you say ‘bark’ or growl when you say ‘growl’?”

“Y/N, not now. You better cut this shit out now or I’ll kick you out,” he warns.

“Oh, so now your protecting him?! You’re going to sit here, right now, and threaten me for what? Because he served with you? Because you saved him?! What a load of shit!”

“Watch your mouth! You have no right to raise your voice to me! What I do with this dojo is none of your damn business, and will certainly never concern you. Ever.”

“Oh yeah! For sure! What did he even do, huh? What’s so great about him that is worth protecting his ass for when he’s never had to do anything in return?! I was there John! I was! I dealt with your shit for 4 years! Not 1! Not 2! Not even fucking 3!”

“I never told you to! No one was stopping you from walking out that damn door when everyone else had! I would’ve done perfectly fine without your ‘help’ when all it did was provide extra shit to take care of!”

“Really?! That’s what it was? Nothing? I dealt with your anger issues, your screaming! The god damn punches, kicks, spits, screams, hell anything you wanted to do in order to harm someone else to make you feel better! But that wasn’t me... No... Of course it wasn’t, right?”

“I’ve got no time for this. Stay in this fucking room and don’t move. You even dare come out into that dojo and you’re out. I have a winner to make and not some little girl to argue with.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, tears pooling at the bottom of your eyelids as the door hides you from view.

For hours, you sit in boredom, listening to the repetitive “hut” or “ah” as blow after blow is thrown into the dummies and punching bags. If only they could do that to me, take me out of my misery for fuck’s sake. But, despite the utter pissed state you were in, you did not move from the desk, even deciding to take a nap. It wasn’t until Dennis’ unusually loud laugh is echoed within the whole dojo do you finally wake back up. Looking through the blinds, you see the boys getting packed up. Doing the same, you walk out of the office just in time for Terry to leave with the boys a few moments later.

Speeding across the length of the mats, you take long strides in order to storm as fast as possible out of the cage that holds the biggest chains around your neck. Going for the door, you are unable to catch yourself as Kreese grabs your hand and flips you onto your back, splaying your body on the mats beneath you.

Groaning, you move to sit up, watching as he goes to lock the door to the dojo, throwing the keys somewhere and closing the blinds of the big glass panes adorning the front wall. Getting up, the harbored anger floods your being once more, “I’m done with your bullshit Kreese. Let me the fuck out so I can leave this place once and for all. You seem to be doing ‘perfectly fine’ with your boyfriend, so let me go!”

Without answering, he grabs you by the neck firmly, but not enough to choke you. The memories of Johnny instantly flood your mind, causing you to grab his hand just as tight, eyes peering straight into his. Noticing your change in demeanor, he loosens his hold a little and pushes your back up against the closest wall to your back. As your back collides with the wall, his lips clasp yours.

Whining in surprise, you go to pull back only for him to pull you closer by the neck. Realization dawns on you after a moment, and within seconds, your leaning into his touch absentmindedly. You only break apart once your lungs beg for more air. “There. Is that what you wanted?” he asks you, voice gravelly.

Ignoring his comment, you grab him by the nape of his neck, pulling him into you once again, tongue battling his own. Your tongue dances around, observing every crevice and tasting every bit of his mouth, grazing his teeth, biting his lips, and even tangling it with his. Taking control back, he shoves your body back into the wall, separating your mouth from his, a trail of saliva the only thing connecting your bodies.

His hand, long forgotten and hanging loose on your neck, tightens the grip back up firmly once again and moves his other to pin your arms above your head. Now basking in dominance, he kisses you once more, pinning his knee between your legs in the most delicious way. Taking advantage of the placement, you attempt to grind your core against his thigh to relieve some tension.

“Ah. Ah. Ah,” he warns, pulling his knee away and moving to unbuckle his belt instead, “On your knees, Slut.”

Obeying instantly, you do as he says and place yourself on your knees. Finally undoing the tie of his gi, he pulls his pants, alongside his underwear, down just enough to let his dick spring free. Gulping in admiration, you take in the view of his girth and length, precum oozing at the tip.

“Looks like your happy to see me,” you joke, loosening your tension in your shoulders.

Stepping closer, Kreese edges closer to your mouth, and, taking the hint, you wrap one hand around the base of his shaft. Your other hand, deciding teasing is the best get-back, wraps itself closer to the tip, thumb grazing the slit. Earning a shudder of pleasure from the man, he goes to move in closer again. Pulling your head away, you squeeze the tip loosely, staring up at Kreese.

At your locked gaze, his cheeks burn bright pink, enabling you to give the man what he wants now that he’s at a loss for words and flustered for you. Taking him into your mouth little by little, you stop just before the barricade of choking. Eyes locked onto his, you place your hands on either side of his hips for support, then take him in as fully as physically possible. Instantly, you are met by struggling moans of relief.

Swirling your tongue around and lapping at his veiny member, he struggles to control himself, the undying need for more consuming him. Pulling away just enough to keep the tip in your mouth, you nod at him, giving him the okay to do as he pleases. That was all he needed to start going, pulling your mouth around his cock again, and tangling his hands in your hair for a better grip. Thrusting into your mouth now, you try your best to breathe as you feel him start twitching, knowing you will be fine in a few minutes.

The closer he gets to ecstasy, the louder he gets, hips thrusting in any possible direction as his pleasure threatens to bubble over. “Look at me,” he orders, looking you in the eyes. Slightly confused, you do as told, looking at him through your eyelashes as he continuously uses your mouth. “That’s it, Good Girl.”

Without warning, he unleashes his load into your mouth, the hot and sticky cum shooting to the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow. Licking up the remains, you make a show of swallowing the contents as well, getting back onto your feet with a help of his hand. Pulling your body into his, he kisses you deeply, tasting himself.

You whine as you are still left in uncomfortable need for him, having not gotten your share just yet, the feeling of being filled a painful reminder. “Don’t worry, Daddy’ll take care of you.” And that, he does, getting to work on untying your gi and throwing the long-sleeved shirt over you head. Doing the same to him, you match his enthusiasm, pulling his shirt off and throwing it somewhere in the room.

Playing with your clothed breasts, Kreese slips a hand under your bra to pinch your nipples, twisting them between his middle and fore fingers. Moaning, you pull him into your chest nibbling his ear. Gliding his hands down your sides and to your waist, he slowly edges his fingers slightly underneath your pants, pushing them down with your panties. As he busies himself with your clothes, you move your hands behind your back to unclasp your bra, breasts springing free and instantly hardening at the new temperature of the room.

Fingers, teasing your entrance, catches you off-guard, moaning again at the first shocks of pleasure. “Kreese,” you start breathlessly, “Enough is enough. Mgh... Stop teasing me,” you try to order, impatient and horny.

“As you wish, Princess.”

Lifting up one of your legs and wrapping it around his hipbone, he lines himself up with your entrance, entering slowly. Together, you sigh in ease simultaneously. Nodding once, you lean your forehead underneath his chin, starting to thrust slowly. Knowing this isn’t the pace he prefers, and body adjusting to his shape, you pull him in closer, whispering in his ear, “Faster, Daddy.”

Jolting at the name, he fastens the pace, grinding in rougher strokes, rubbing every part of you body in the best way possible. No one’s ever filled you the way he is now, and it leaves you stunned in a trance of utter euphoria. Tapping your other leg, you hop up to warp both legs around Kreese. At the new angle, he thrusts upwards, the overstimulation causing you to shake in a new sensation.

Squeezing his dick tightly, you try to hold your orgasm off for as long as possible, but the building want of release causes you to topple over the edge quickly, spilling all over the body still within your own. Without faltering, Kreese continues his assault on your body, causing you to scream out in the fury of pleasure being all too much for you. Shaking harder, you struggle to keep yourself around his body for long.

Seeing this, Kreese keeps himself sheathed in your cunt, laying you on your back against the mats of the flooring. Grabbing your legs, Kreese bends them until your thighs meet your chest. Then, thrusting at the same pace as before, Kreese is able to fuck you senseless without further issues. Moaning screams of ecstasy echo throughout the dojo, the combination of yourself and the slapping of skin being the only noises in the room.

As quickly as you’d built up the previous time, your orgasm and need of release forms again, your pussy throbbing in anticipation. “Kreese..” is all you manage, the older man quickly teetering towards the edge with you. Thrusting the hardest he had the whole night, he manages only a few more before you both come at the same time, screaming as you pull him down by the neck and into your chest, your name falling from his tongue in multiples.

Sucking in as much air as possible, Kreese and you stay in the same position panting before he unsheathes himself and collapses next to you. Catching your breath, you cuddle into his side in a naked heap of sweat and satisfaction. “Are you still jealous of Terry now?”

“It depends, am I still as useless as before?”

“I don’t believe so,” Kreese giggles, “but if you pull another crazy stunt like that, I will really have to give you a good beating. Huh, Babydoll?”

“I like the sound of that,” you say, going to straddle his hips as he lays on his back, “How about round two and I’ll consider not ripping his throat out?”

“Deal.”

#john kreese x reader #john kreese imagine #john kreese #martin kove #martin kove x reader #martin kove imagine #terry silver #tig #thomas ian griffith #mike barnes #sean kanan #kk3 #kk1 #kk #karate kid #karate kid imagine #karate kid 1 #karate kid 3

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yaomomvs · 4 years ago

Text

— BEING INARIZAKI’S TEAM MANAGER AND A SECRET VOLLEYBALL PLAYER

inarizaki x f!manager

this is part of a hcs series, let me now what team you want next <3

okay so actually you ended being the manager because the girls volleyball team had already closed the application time

so you you were really looking forward to it and omg you were so sad about it

after being rejected, you were just peacefully going through the gym and you heard laughter from a bunch of guys

you recognized kosaku since he was in your class and waved at him.

and so, they were talking about getting a manager since this team is pretty much a lot to handle

and so since kosaku knew you were hard working and that the first idea that popped out oh his head was that if you wanted to try out.

kita respectfully introduced himself and asked if you were willingly try out 🥺🥺🥺 like what a man 🥺🥺

and mostly because the twins having fangirls always made this process kind of difficult, so instead kita and aran wanted to make sure it was someone who at least was trusted by one of them

and not to brag but bestie you are gorgeous

so it was a win win

atsumu refused to this because as the jerk he usually is, he said that he didn’t need any help

that son of a bitch

he was being soooo petty mainly after you said “oh don’t worry kita, idiots are not my type”

osamu fell in love with you ❗️

and aran

and suna

and well the team.

and so, looking at the other court where the girl vbc was training you said that it was something.

every! single! practice! is! chaotic!

but somehow you managed them so well

atsumu is still trying to prove that he doesn’t but oh boy he is the first one to requiere your help

you better believe this guys are your simps and are constantly competing over someone who a year ago could never imagine they had

your attention? the best way to prove each other they were superior

in away games, god bless the idiot that wants to even dares to try to do a move on you

they are lowkey intimidating

not but seriously

specially and surprisingly kita and aran

son como esos niños mamones fresas que de cierto modo les tienes miedo

besides

this team? over the moon for you

and tbh, they were so grateful for you, you did a lot for them that they started to feel some kind of embarrassing how before they wouldn’t know how to do basic stuff like cooking for camps, labeling they jerseys correctly, searching for new equipment like they love you

anyways that however was kinda sus to them

it all started when somehow you learned so quickly, and the technical stuff was not hard to understand as to others

surprisingly the first one to notice was suna

you could have said something but tbh

you still look forward to play volleyball like more seriously even as a hobby

BUT

you’d rather be dead than telling your team that’s what you wanted because

a) they could think you only joined to learn volleyball and not help them

b) you had your pride, you want to be recognized by your own merits rather than “of course, they are inarizaki’s manager if they weren’t they could have never been this good”

so you still played volleyball but hid from them

there was a gym nearby where constant tournaments were held

you were a ghost because knowing damn well your boys could go there at any moment you decided to take some precautions

like nickname and position was everything they knew about you

your teammates loved you, so they respected your private life, and it was kind of cool

but what you were not expecting is that for some reason, omimi had followed you one day bc you forgot something after practice.

being a friday it meant for some weird reason you always rushed out

“sus” suna says everytime

so he catches you going out to the gym and maybe, he thought, you were just going to workout or see someone

BUT THIS GUYS EYEBALLS ALMOST FALL WHEN HE SEES TOY RUSH AND TAKE OFF YOUR SCHOOL UNIFORM SHIRT AND TIE TO FUCKING REVEAL A JERSEY WUTH A #3 on it

bye you broke him

and so he tries to process it normally

key word: tries

and here we are him being interrogated by the team incredulous to his words.

ay first they interrogated him being overprotective by the fact that he was spending more time with you but when he tells them what he saw god dammit

they loose it when they find out.

and so, tsumu says something that everyone agrees with him for the first time

“let’s go and spy”

“i swear to god if y/n finds out...”

“shut up aran, unless you want to make it obvious and reveal our identity dumbass!”

“tsumu, the disguises are awful”

“come on kita not you too!”

“what if”

“akagi shut up all of you agreed with the idea”

“osamu you suck”

and so there they go. trying to find you in the sea of people at the entrance, not having a clear view yet, they only search for the navy blue and white uniform that omimi described to them when he saw you.

and then almost as if it was the gods plan, they started hearing whispers of people around mentioning the arrival of one of the most popular teams out there.

“come on what the big deal-” suna started saying, however your figure appeared and he instantly turned into a babbling mess.

as well as the rest of inarizaki vbc.

osamu had to double check to assure himself that it indeed was you, beautiful as ever, walking alongside your hot and apparently talented team.

minutes later, they were standing in the bleachers as quiet as they could. they spotted you.

“A SETTER” atsumu jumped of his seat and had to be scolded by aran who was also surprised by the position you were going to be playing.

“wasn’t expecting that” ginjima talks saying what everyone was currently thinking.

behind them was a couple of guys, who apparently did not know how lower their comments.

“the setter is kinda cute” “wow look at that” oml please even aran who was the voice of reason had the urge to punch them in the face.

still they decided to just focus on your game who has now been started. and even tho they wanted to not do it, they couldn’t help analyzing you and your moves in the court. it was natural, well because they were players and very good ones it’s inevitable for them to compare and to study the way you played more than anything.

they were not expecting you to be this good. almost everything in your technique was polished, your tema work was remarkable and god bless your ability to read the blockers.

but there was a moment when they just saw the panoramic view of your skills. atsumu could see your tired expression, the sweat on your body, he just knew you were feeling now the adrenaline of the last moments of the set.

still you yelled a “we will take it” and then, with the others team hope hanging on a thread, the ball came to your libero, which perfectly passed the ball to you.

there was greed in your eyes, so scary that kita for a moment feared for the other team.

and it was when you did the setter dump that your whole team stood up in pure shock.

who were you and why were you hiding?

sadly the boys screamed way too loud which lead to you, after you made the last point and give the history to your tema, lifted up your gaze and saw a bunch of idiots wearing hats and everything in between.

suna and tsumu ran the fastest in the team directly to the gate, and the with a bunch of losers behind them,

because after everything you were there arms crossed and a murderous look in your eyes.

“IM TOO YOUNG TO DIE Y/N” “osamu shut up!”

they, once you made sure to pinch each and everyone’s ears, starred bombarding questions on how did you managed to learned that and why you did ikr tell them

“come on guys, in school i’m already looked down at just because it’s you! so could you imagine me being a inarizaki student trying to move without your name?”

kita forced them to shut up and aran felt a a kind of guilt

as week as everyone else

“don’t worry y/n, we know now what it’s like to not being your own author.”

and so, they just told you how proud they were.

“maybe we are jerks but y/n we are your jerks, and over there or respect to you has just grown up”

suna the says “you’ve been there all of the time for a while now, i guess it out time to return the favor”

and so ever since then they alwaaaaays try to be at your games

like pls once the referee said one of your serves was out and from the bleachers he screaaaaaaamed, he claims that it was definitely in

kita always gives you some food after a game or practice

talking about practice

even if you are there for being a manager they always try to, at least half an hour before ending practice, they have a quick game with you playing alongside them or just including you in their repeats etc

and goooood bless once again anyone who tried to look down at you.

because after being constantly on you games ofc people started recognizing them as the inarizaki power house

if they heard someone relying your talent on them pls make sure they five them the coldest look ever

like ‘nah bro i dare you to say that one more time’

*knive eyes*

and

even some girls attend your games trying to flirt with them

you know what they do?

they brush them off and say “sorry, my type is y/n” suna says and the are 😳

pretty much everyone does this

come on even aran

inarizaki best boys 🥺🥺🥺

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gojology · 4 years ago

Text

— gojo, megumi, yuuji | crushing on dense fem reader

the request :

pairing : gojo, megumi, and yuuji x dense fem! reader warnings : cursing, no proof reading wordcount : 1212 a/n : anon i cant believe u asked for hcs when im this bad at writing them ... girl r u good ?

GOJO SATORU ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Now, Gojo is as straightforward as it gets with relationships.

☆ When Gojo first realized he had a thing for you, he was all for it! I mean, what’s not to like about you?

☆ He obviously forgot how dense you are. Any expression of love towards you was fruitless, it was like you didn’t give another thought.

☆ He would wrap a hand around your waist, call you affectionate nicknames, show you off to a very disgusted and uninterested Yuuji and Nobara. Rarely did Megumi join in, he was probably off doing his own thing.

☆ You just thought he was being friendly.

☆ He finds your density kind of enduring, often finding himself studying you, just to make sure no one’s hurting you.

☆ Gojo felt like some sort of guardian angel looking after you 24/7, but he doesn’t mind watching you.

☆ I feel like sometimes he just straight up says, “I like you.” you chalk it up as some sort of... twisted joke. And he’s getting frustrated at this point.

☆ When you’re off campus, off doing your own thing, he discusses with Shoko, asking her what his best chances are.

☆ Gojo absolutely follows every advice Shoko gives him, even if it’s stupid, because honestly he hasn’t got any experience with a girl as dumb as you. He’s tried everything at this point!

☆ When you and Gojo are doing your own thing, alone, he leans in real close to you, and it takes everything in him to not kiss your lips. That’s what Shoko thinks might work, near physical contact was enough of a sign to say, “Hey! I like you.”

☆ Shoko always says that you probably won’t realize any approach other then a direct one, and this was direct enough right?

☆ This piece of advice he particularly ignores, though. He doesn’t go all the way with the advice, he’s scared of ruining the friendship, no matter what Shoko says.

☆ He values you as a friend so deeply, you always seem to forget that he’s the most powerful, and he enjoys the normal relationship between the two of you.

☆ Gojo never, ever wants to lose that. He’d rather call you pumpkin then the rest of his life, while you obliviously stared back, then call you another friendship gone haywire.

☆ So you two just look at each other, all silent. You’re obviously curious why he’s staring at you with a starving pair of eyes, but eventually he laughs it off and hands you his favorite candy that he always kept in his pocket.

☆ He hands you your favorite flavor, because he always remembers it.

☆ You walk away, chewing and rolling the candy around on your tongue, and he wishes he could taste how your mouth tastes afterward.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Poor Megumi over here, he’s basically a tsundere.

☆ Megumi hate’s confrontation, so he does EVERYTHING in his power so he doesn’t have to tell you directly.

☆ Nonetheless, he has a horribly bad crush on you. He also has trouble hiding it.

☆ Thing is, he doesn’t want to fuck up the friendship. After all, he was your “study partner”.

☆ You’d often find yourself in his room, analyzing old Jujutsu writings for Gojo’s homework assignments. (Why the guy assigned homework, you have no idea.)

☆ Megumi was silent. He didn’t like speaking unless being spoken to. This changed with you.

☆ While you’re writing or doodling in your journal, he sneaks glances at you.

☆ Once in a while, he’ll realize you’re writing a word incorrectly.

☆ Instead of taking an eraser like any normal person does, Megumi insists that he would help you write out the words

☆ Holding your hand, he’d guide you, muttering the letters under his breath.

☆ He wishes he could hold your hand forever, it’s warm compared to his cold ones, and then his mind wanders.

☆ Wondering just how warm your cuddles get.

☆ Blushing ferociously now, he looks down at the paper, and you look at him, confused as to why he stopped writing.

☆ He’s incredibly stiff, he doesn’t wanna think about that while you’re right in front of him. You tap him a few times, and he jolts back to Earth.

☆ You ask him what he was doing, but he doesn’t reply, instead stroking your hand’s skin and grumbling words you couldn’t understand.

☆ You sit there, maybe he has anxiety, that’s why he’s stroking you like a therapy cat.

☆ Megumi’s weighing out the positives and negatives of asking you out right this second, but his anxiety prevents him. He touches your skin subconsciously.

☆ Negatives always seem to win though, he doesn’t wanna risk losing his friend. He turns back to look at your face once more, fluttering his long eyelashes, taking a deep breath in, and continuing the assignment.

☆ “Next time” is all that echoes in the back of his mind.

☆ You just think it’s a bit weird, to be honest. Why does he look at you that way?

☆ You just think that he has his moments of too intensely thinking.

ITADORI YUUJI ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆Like you, Yuuji’s also dense. ☆ Unlike you, he has the power and the courage of asking Gojo what these feelings were. ☆ “Yuuji-kun, have you ever felt love for someone special before?” ☆ “No, what’s that, Gojo-senpai?” ☆ “That’s the feeling you get around (Y/N). You think she’s cute, I bet that.” ☆ That’s how the bastard found out he had a crush on you, through his equally as stupid teacher. ☆ This clearly spelled out disaster. ☆ Whenever you and Yuuji went out on missions, Yuuji would offer to cover for your role in the mission as well, claiming that you needed a break. ☆ “Why?” you’d ask ☆ “Because, I like you.” ☆ “Wow, Itadori-kun! You’re really nice!” you say, a smile on your lips, “Honestly though that’s a lot of work on your shoulders, I think I’ll-” ☆ He would stop you in his tracks, and kind of look at you. ☆ Yuuji thinks your work ethic is precious, and he deeply admires that. ☆ He also thinks your density is really cute, but he worries that he’s not masculine enough for you. ☆ This is why he tries to appear more, “macho” as he says it, around you ☆ But inside, he’s soft, and soft for you only. ☆ Despite his usual friendly and carefree personality, he would punt someone into the horizon if they looked at you different. He was overprotective that way. ☆ But you never truly got the hint, and he always was upset by this, in which Gojo would comfort him, and the cycle would restart. ☆ But here’s the problem: he doesn’t want to ruin the relationship. As much as he trusts Gojo, nothing was showing out of his obvious flirting, and eventually his confidence wore out. ☆ Sometimes he still tries talking to you in that flirty manner, but you just tilt your head and kinda go, “What?” ☆ Giving you a big, reassuring grin, he gives you a thumbs up. ☆ He sighs as he does so, telling you, “Nevermind.” and talks about something else. ☆ Deep down, he’s cursing himself out, he thinks it’s all his fault and not you just being stupid.

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shorkbrian · 4 years ago

Text

Babysitter

Prelude - I do not understand how some people get turned on by spanking, but I still respect that kink. I could never lol I just think back to the days where I got spanked so hard I’d pass out or the wooden spoon would break haha.

Pairing - Bakugou Katsuki X Reader

Prompt - idk I just thought of babysitters being so flipping like “Im in charge here” and stupid and I feel like Bakugou would enjoy babysitting like someone just a few years younger than him cause he’d get such a rush of power.

Warnings - NSFW, abuse of power, noncon, spanking, degradation, slight misogyny. slight masochism?

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5E30LdtzQTGqRvNd7l6kG5?si=IG4WgPeSQf2_UzyLXMWR7g

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

Your mom was overbearing.

Here you were, a full-grown adult, and your mom was yelling her thanks to your “babysitter” as she rushed out the door.

You knew she was a bit protective, a bit hyper-vigilant and akin to a helicopter parent. But it was hard to be mad at her for it, not ever since dad had divorced her. She was terrified of something happening to you, of loosing the last thing in her life that she cared about.

Still, it was hard not to feel a little bubble of irritation in your throat as you watched your “babysitter” wave to her as she climbed in her car. You didn’t need a babysitter, not at your age. And you especially didn’t need the gruff, surly man that had lived in the house across the street as your babysitter. You could take care of yourself, thank you very much.

And how come your mom didn’t trust you by yourself, but somehow trusted this Mr. Grumpypants that you had met a total of zero times. You had seen him once, when your mom’s car had broken down at her job and you had to go pick her up.

You hadn’t minded, rolling up to the curb to see your mother animatedly talking to some blonde man with a stick shoved up his ass, his handsome face grimacing like he just sucked on a lemon dipped in hot sauce. Apparently she worked with him, the younger man a security guard for the complex her office was located in. You watched as his bored red eyes slid from your mother, over to you through the car window, his brow furrowing. The bored look had disappeared, and he regarded you with… curiosity? Contempt? It was hard to tell what emotion was hidden behind his eyes, underlaid so strongly with irritation and anger.

Mom had gushed about him all the way home, telling you details you didn’t really care about. His name was Bakugou Katsuki, he was single, 27, and wouldn’t you know - he lived right across the street!

Well, if she trusted him, you guess you should too. Didn’t mean you had to like it though.

And you didn’t, huffing as Bakugou closed the door and you turned back to your game, mashing buttons and sitting forward as you tried to beat this level. It was ridiculous, your mom going over to his house a few days prior with a plate of cookies, asking the man if he wouldn’t mind coming and hanging out while she was away on some business trip. She had expressed her worry about leaving you - what if something happened while she was gone for a week? Someone could kidnap you and she wouldn’t even know until she got back!

Even when you politely reminded her that cell-phones existed, she was adamant; you were going to have someone big and strong stay in the house with you. It not only would keep potential burglars and thieves away, but it’d keep you safe, make sure you weren’t doing anything silly like staying up too late or eating too much junk food. It was embarrassing.

Some small part of you wanted to stomp your foot and whine at her, but that wouldn’t help you in trying to convince her that you were an adult. Once your mom convinced herself of something, nothing would be able to change her mind. Even when you pointed out that Bakugou was a strange man, she didn’t budge.

“I see him everyday at work!” She had pointed out. “Plus, he’s a security guard sweetie - his literal job involves keeping people safe.”

Bakugou locked the door, before glancing your way. You felt his eyes on you, but you didn’t feel like acknowledging his presence, by gracing him with conversation or any sort of interaction. The man moved on after a second, walking behind you and into the kitchen. You heard him rustle in the cupboards, the clink of glasses, then the sound of water filling a cup.

Right - your mom had kindly showed him where everything was. She had guided him through each room showed him the guest room which she had made up for his stay, even walking him through the kitchen and showing him the contents of each cupboard.

He came back into the living room with his backpack and cup full of water, settled himself down in one of the armchairs by the couch. You didn’t spare him a glance as he pulled out his laptop, threw on some glasses, and settled himself in for… well, whatever he was doing. You were just glad that the two of you didn’t have to interact with each other.

You continued playing your game, occasionally getting frustrated enough to mumble under your breath at the TV as your character died yet again. This was going to be a long week.

----

You were taking a gap year after graduating, relaxing before you threw yourself into college and working. Right now, your days were spent playing games, scrolling on your phone and laughing at memes, going to the pool for hours on end, the library, bike rides, hikes… lots of activities that kept your mind and body occupied. But this week? Bakugou threw off every plan you made.

It was the second day, and you had gotten up early to go swim and goof off at the community pool for a few hours. It was fun, you could tan a little, cool off, maybe see some cute boys your age.

When you got out of the water you had two missed texts from Bakugou.

Where are you

Tell me where the fuck you went

Instead of answering, you huffed, wrapping your towel around your waist. It took maybe fifteen minutes to walk home - you’d deal with your overprotective babysitter then.

He met you at the door, throwing it open before you could even touch the handle. His face was drawn tight in a scowl, the blonde crossing his arms as soon as you stepped inside and shut the door behind you.

“Your fucking phone die? Or are you just ignoring me?”

You shook your head, irritated with how big of a deal he was making out of this. You went to the pool all the time, you weren’t going to die. “I was at the pool, chill dude.”

“Oh, I thought you just popped out to go fucking parachuting!” He spat, uncrossing his arms to gesture at your body. “I can see that you went to the pool dipshit. Why didn’t you fucking tell me, huh? You normally run off on your mom without a damn word?”

You stared at him, curious to see if he would burst a blood vessel with how worked up he was getting. He didn’t seem like someone that knew what the word “relax” meant. Bakugou probably slept all angrily, arms crossed, lips pulled into a frown, eyebrows drawn low.

“Fucking hey, earth to idiot!” Fingers snapped in front of your face, and you recoiled, glaring up at the man in front of you. Before you could open your mouth, he huffed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “Don’t fucking go anywhere unless you run it by me, understand? I don’t need you wandering into a fucking alley and getting stabbed or some shit.”

Snorting, you moved past him, not even bothering to answer. He was an asshole. Despite what your mother thought, you weren’t a child. You knew how to take care of yourself, you didn’t need some grumpy old guy bossing you around. Said man was grinding his teeth as he watched you walk away, headed for your room. It probably annoyed the life out of him that you hadn’t answered, but he didn’t say anything.

When you finished grabbing clothes for your shower, you came out of your room to see Bakugou leaning against the wall.

“So you’re being a little spoiled princess, not even talking to me? That’s rich. You know I’m gonna be here for the next fucking week - you better make peace with that.”

“Dude, I don’t know what you want. I’m fine, I do this all the time. Just leave me be, and I’ll do the same for you.”

Bakugou grumbled something under his breath, but your skin was getting dry and tight from chlorine, so you ignored him as you slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. You could hear his feet stomping away, and almost giggled at the sound. It almost seemed like he was the petulant child that needed a babysitter.

It didn’t take you long to rinse off, get all the chlorine and salt off your skin. Drying off, you quickly realized you forgot a bra when you had grabbed clothes - which was fine, you would just wrap up in your towel and waddle back to your room. Plus, the bathroom was directly opposite your room, and Bakugou wasn’t nearby, you could hear dishes rattling in the kitchen, so that wouldn’t be a problem.

And it wasn’t, not until you were in your room, door closed, towel on the floor as you rifled through your dresser drawers for the bra you really liked.

“Hey princess, do you want-“

You only heard him as he opened the door, and by that time you were scrambling to snatch your towel up around your naked body. Bakugou choked on his words, face turning a flaming red before he slammed the door shut, giving you your privacy.

Heart racing, you sat down on the floor, too embarrassed for words. That was awkward.

“Why the fuck would you grab clothes, only to come back and change in your room!??!” Bakugou yelled from the other side of the door, a decidedly angry “thump” from where he banged his fist against the door.

“I forgot something, geez! Why didn’t you bother knocking?!?” You yelled back, your own face heating up.

“Holy fucking shit, just get some fucking clothes on, asshole. I’m makin’ pancakes and shit.”

Breakfast was an awkward affair, your gaze focused firmly on the perfectly cooked food on your plate. Bakugou was glaring at you between bites, obviously fuming. He was probably just as embarrassed as you were, but at least he wasn’t trying to make small talk.

----

Bakugou doesn’t appreciate how much time you spend playing video games, and it’s only the third day. He’s grumbled about it several times already, but you aren’t hurting anybody, and there’s nothing else for you to do, so.

It seems like the only thing Bakugou is willing to do is sit nearby, glare at you condescendingly, and mutter under his breath about how you spend your time. When you decided to run to the store to get groceries (there was a surplus of food in the house - you just wanted some air and time away from your “babysitter”) Bakugou had suddenly appeared, moving in front of the door and sneering.

“Are you trying to fuckin’ sneak off again? I won’t let that shit slide twice.”

You huffed, shrugging on your jacket. “Bakugou, I was going to the store. Contrary to what you think, I’m not eight years old, and I can take care of myself. My mom’s just a helicopter parent. You don’t even need to be here, honestly.”

The man scoffed, his face souring. “You’re literally a fucking child. Didn’t you just graduate highschool?”

Stepping closer to him, you squared your shoulders, eyebrows furrowing as you looked up at the blond. “Call me a child all you want - doesn’t change the fact I’m old enough to do stuff by myself. Now-“ you gestured to his body “-please move.”

“No.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “And why not? You can’t just lock me in the house until my mom comes back.”

Bakugou’s head cocked, red eyes burrowing into your head. He grinned. “Why the fuck not? I’m in charge here, I get to make the damn rules. I say your ass stays here, and it’s going to.”

Clenching your jaw, you huffed, spinning on your heel. You weren’t going to be able to talk the bull-headed man into leaving you to your own devices. There was nothing left to do except shuck off your shoes, admitting defeat. It was so irritating - you didn’t need anyone looking after you, you were an adult! You were more than capable of handling yourself! Why didn’t your mom trust you? Did she think that you were too stupid to keep yourself alive and safe?

You left Bakugou at the door, grabbing a soda from the kitchen before flopping onto the couch in front of TV.

Sure, you could read a book, do a puzzle, browse social media. But right now, you were feeling particularly angry, violent. You wanted to achieve something, finish quests, accomplish tasks. So video games it was.

Of course, that meant Bakugou sauntering back into the living room, groaning as he saw you back in front of the TV. But if he wasn’t going to let you go out, then this is what you were going to spend your time doing. If he wanted to treat you like a child, then you were going to act like one. Show him how much of a brat you really could be.

You turn on your console, select the game you’re going to be playing for the next few hours, and settle further into the couch, making yourself comfortable. Reaching down to the coffee table, you’re about to grab the soda you had brought in earlier, but Bakugou beat you to it.

“Hey!” You whined, watching the blond pop the tab, take a long, slow drag of the carbonated drink. He smacked his lips and cocked his head, smirking down at you.

“You shouldn’t drink this sorta shit, ’s bad for you.”

“Why are you drinking it then?!!?”

Bakugou shrugged. “‘Cause I’m in charge here. I get to do whatever I fuckin’ want.”

Huffing, you gave up the argument, starting to push yourself off the couch. Bakugou was one of those people that got off on power trips, liked being the one to call the shots. The best course of action here would be to just ignore him and grab another soda.

“And where the fuck do you think you’re going? I didn’t say you could move.” The blond man was standing in front of you, making it impossible for you to stand. He was so irritating - you couldn’t wait for this week to be over.

“I’m going to get something to drink, since you decided to help yourself to my soda.”

He moved out of your way, clicking his tongue before flopping down into the armchair by the couch. You glared at him for as long as you could, until the kitchen wall hid his face from view. Ugh, he was such a jerk. At first he had seemed somewhat decent, but as he got more comfortable around you, the man was turning into a self-absorbed tyrant.

Whatever, you were only going to have a stupid “babysitter” for a few more days.

----

“Get off the damn game! Don’t make me haul your ass off that couch.”

Bakugou threatened. He wasn’t very intimidating, standing there vigorously brushing his teeth like there was something wrong with them. The blond had already asked you two other times, and you had ignored him on both occasions. You were so close to leveling up, just a few more points.

If Bakugou wanted to go to bed when the sun was still up, he was more than welcome to do so. You however, had better things to do with your time.

You saw him stomp away out of the corner of your eye, apparently giving up on trying to tell you what to do in your own house. Good.

If anything, Bakugou should be grateful that all you were interested was playing video games and going to the pool. You could be out getting in trouble, doing drugs, rebelling against the system or something - but you were here, chilling and causing zero trouble.

The sink in the bathroom ran, then clattering could be heard as Bakugou finished up his bedtime routine, putting his toothbrush away, washing his hands, yada yada.

He appeared back in the living room, arms crossed. His muscles bulged out like that, showcased by the sleeveless black tank top he was wearing. But you weren’t intimidated, it’s not like he was going to hit you or something.

“Alright, last chance. Turn the fucking game off, it’s your majesty’s bedtime now.” He sneered.

You ignored him.

“You seriously wanna do this princess?”

You stayed silent. Just a few more kills….

“Alright, you fuckin’ asked for it.”

The TV turned off, Bakugou yanking the cords out behind it.

“Dude, what the hell! I was so close to leveling up!!” You screeched, sitting up straight. Bakugou’s face was screwed into an angry frown, and he advanced towards you, walking with purpose. You were fuming, rising to your feet so you could get in his face, tell him off. He was acting like he was your dad or something, and he most definitely was not.

When the man got within an arm length of you, you immediately jabbed a finger into his chest, mouth opening to spit nasty words. Those words died when your hand was slapped harshly away, Bakugou still walking forward until he was crowding into your space. You tried to shrink back, but a rough hand latched onto the back of your neck, holding you still as Bakugou closed in on you, bringing your foreheads together.

“You are such a spoiled little princess. Think you can get away with shit, yeah? Never had a man in your life to put you in your goddamn place, that’s why, isn’t it?”

You blanched, still trying to lean backwards, away from his overwhelming presence. It was kind of scary, how he was all up in your face, how his fingers gripped the back of your neck so tightly, how his face was so close to yours that you could feel his warm, minty breath.

“Bakugou, ple-“

“Nah, shut the fuck up. We’re past any point where you could’ve begged for forgiveness. I am so sick and tired of your bratty little attitude. You keep testing my patience, being a little shit, acting like you own the damn place. You’re gonna show me you’re fuckin’ sorry princess.”

A hand wrapped around your waist, another on your thigh, hefting you up with brute strength and slinging you over his shoulder in the blink of an eye. The swift movement made your head spin for a second, but you quickly adjusted.

“Woah, what the hell man? Put me down!” Bakugou ignored you, spinning on his heel and marching towards the guest bedroom. “Dude, put me down right now, this isn’t funny anymore. C’mon, put me down, I get it. You’re in charge, and I gotta listen. You can let me down now. Please?”

Your pleading went unheard, even as it got more and more desperate the closer to the guest bedroom he walked. When you passed through the doorway, you kicked at the mans stomach, tried to hit his back - you had a faint idea of where this was going, and it was nowhere good.

Without ceremony, you were thrown on the bed, the air getting knocked out of you with the impact, your head bouncing a few times on the mattress. Bakugou turned, shutting and locking the door before he was back in front of you again, a vicious look on his face.

You scrambled backwards on the bed, holding out one hand as if to ward him off. “Okay, dude, wait, you don’t want to do this. Please don’t do this, you’re a good guy-“

“Shit, do you ever stop running your mouth? Calm the fuck down princess, I’m just gonna spank you ’till you cry, then we’ll be even.”

The idea was humiliating, embarrassing, degrading. But it was better than what you thought was about to happen. Bakugou grabbed your ankle, pulling you back towards him with a quick yank, sitting down beside you on the bed. The man patted his lap expectantly, before getting impatient with your hesitance and grabbing your hair, pulling you across his lap with a pained shriek from you.

“Now, here’s how this is gonna fucking go. You’re gonna sit there and take it, and you’ll be done once I say so. Now shut up.”

Without further ceremony, a broad hand slapped your ass, your shorts providing only the thinnest of barriers. You weren’t ready for the hit, so you lurched forward across the mans lap with a small cry. Another smack landed, and while you still weren’t ready, the sting wasn’t as jarring as the first slap.

SMACK

SMACK SMACK SMACK

You tried to not whine, or cry, or make any noise, but it was hard. His hand was coming down with more force on each strike, and it /hurt/. You could feel your skin throbbing underneath your shorts, red and tender, and you were ready to be done.

Bakugou however, was not.

He kept going,

SMACK

Each hit harder than the last.

SMACK

You wanted to cry, trying to hold it in, just endure through the mortification of being spanked like a child.

SMACK

You couldn’t take it anymore, bursting into tears, skin burning, blubbering for Bakugou to stop, please.

The spanking stopped.

The two of you sat there, you sobbing, Bakugou rubbing the skin of your ass over your shorts. Somehow, that hurt just as much as the spanking did, so you reached a hand back blindly, trying to catch his wrist and push him away. As soon as you grabbed his wrist, Bakugou delivered another savage slap to your behind, making you immediately apologize and drop your hands, let him pet and stroke your ass at his leisure. It hurt.

You don’t know how long you both stayed there, Bakugou further irritating the burning, raw skin of your butt, you sniffling and calming down from the full-bodied sobs that had wracked your form earlier. It had been long enough that you barely flinched when Bakugou tentatively fingered the waistband of your shorts, twisting up the fabric, as if he were hesitant to go further, but obviously considering it. You didn’t flinched when a decision was seemingly made, and a hand started slowly pulling your shorts down.

You flinched when the fabric slid over a particularly sore welt on your ass.

“What are you doing??” You panicked, trying to rise up, move away. A hand between your shoulder blades held you down, Bakugou’s gruff voice telling you to stay still.

“I just wanna see how it looks, fuckin’ chill out princess.”

It’s not like you could argue, so off slid your shorts. You tried to protest again when you felt fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, but another swift slap to your rear had you keening in pain, quickly falling silent. You could let him assess the damage, but that was it. If he tried to touch you further, you’d bite a chunk of his skin off, go find your phone and call the police.

With your lower half bared to the room, you squirmed uncomfortably, immediately stilling when Bakugou’s hand smoothed over the abused skin of your ass. He seemed fascinated by the damage he had caused, and you were sure that there were welts, maybe even bruises already forming. Your skin burned, and not in a pleasant way. God, it was painful.

There was so much pain, your skin somehow felt numb and on fire at the same time. You almost didn’t notice Bakugou’s hand dropping to your thigh, slowly beginning to wiggle it’s way upward, headed towards the little pink slit nestled between your legs.

When his hand made contact with your pussy, you flipped out.

Almost literally - you rocketed off the man’s lap so fast that you almost flipped over onto the ground, just barely catching yourself at the last second.

And then you were standing in front of the man, lower half completely bared, him staring at the space between your thighs, before slowly dragging his eyes upward to find your own.

You turned tail and ran for the door.

A problem with your aforementioned plan of calling the police, was forgetting that Bakugou was a security guard. His job was literally chasing people down, subduing them.

He had you pinned to the door in a matter of seconds, chuckling in your ear.

“Damn, I really was just only gonna spank your ass raw. You look goddamn delicious though, and it seems like you just haven’t learned your fucking lesson.”

You were hauled backward, a hand pulling your hair, the other wrapped around your waist. For the second time that day, you were tossed onto the bed, but this time you barely stayed for a second, already trying to scramble off the other side. But Bakugou was faster, his hand around your calf and dragging you back to him with an iron grip.

A scream tore out of your throat, and you kicked at the man with all your strength as you got closer, catching him square in the jaw. His head snapped back, but his grip never loosened, keeping you stationary while you tried to wiggle away.

His other hand came up to massage his jaw while he slowly rolled his head down to fix you with the most intense, hungry look you’d ever seen a human wear.

“Ohhh, shit. You don’t even know what you just did, do you princess?”

You gasped at his breathy laugh, the way his eyes seemed to light up. Within a second, he was on top of you, face inches away from your own. You could feel his dick, hard against your thigh.

“Wait, you don’t have to do this-think of the consequences! Please, I won’t tell anyone, just let me go, right now. You don’t want to do this Bakugou, please, it’s not gonna be good for either of us-“

He ignored your reasoning, instead focusing on ripping off your shirt, doing the same to your bra. You tried to stop him, hitting and punching, trying to sink your nails into his back, claw at his eyes. You even resorted to snapping your teeth at his nose when his face got too close, turning your head to sink your teeth into his forearm.

Bakugou just groaned throatily, his eyes fluttering shut. Immediately, you let go, not expecting that response. That was supposed to hurt, why wasn’t he yelling in pain? The man lifted his forearm, watching blood start to drip from where your blunt teeth had punctured his skin. He was breathing heavily, straddling your legs, hunched over you like a dog.

The next seconds were a blur, clothes coming off, his hands manhandling you onto your side, his deranged laughter and low, excited swearing filling your ears.

You found yourself on your side, Bakugou straddling one thigh, holding the other up with his arm. He was lining himself up with your opening, rough hand guiding his dick to nudge against your entrance. You screamed.

“Stop it! Stop it, please! You can’t do this! Oh god, stop, stop, stop, don’t-“

“I can do whatever the hell I want, princess.” The man spat, seemingly unaffected by the way you thrashed your body. You tried kicking the leg under him, but his weight anchored it firmly to the bed. You tried kicking the leg he was holding in the arm, but his tight grip just became painful, squeezing you into place. You tried to sit up, to reach out and grab him by the neck and squeeze, but the position you were in was impossible. He knew what he was doing.

You screamed again, a sound of pained, fearful anger crawling out of your throat. Bakugou just laughed.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you had just been good and listened to me. We could’ve gotten along.” He gathered the spit in his mouth, before crudely spitting onto his fingers. “I would’ve left you alone for now, I mean, I’m not a bad guy. “ Bakugou slapped his spit-slicked fingers down over your pussy, smearing his saliva along your folds, messily rubbing it in.

“I’m an upstanding citizen, I keep little crooks and stupid brats from running things their way, that’s all I’m doing.”

You yelled as a finger entered you, probing at your walls. “That hurts! Take it out, take it out! You’re disgusting, get off of me! Stop-!”

Bakugou kept talking, pointedly ignoring your panicked whining.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you before, and you’ve got a nice little body. But it’s not like I was just gonna up and hold you down. Good thing you’ve been giving me reasons all week though, being an absolute spoiled-ass princess, you’re so fucking annoying.”

Another finger joined the first, roughly jamming into your cunt, your juices beginning to flow and smooth the way. It was so stupid that your body was responding to this.

“I woulda never touched you, no matter how much I fucking wanted to, if you had just been good. I guess it works for me that you’ve been shit, huh?”

The man laughed again, leaning down towards your face to smile at you in a jeer, adding another finger to your aching pussy. The stretch hurt, it was too soon, but it felt good nonetheless. It’d been a while since you’d last messed around with someone.

When his fingers retracted, you gasped, face quickly blushing red. Another glob of spit was ejected onto Bakugou’s hand, and he quickly slicked up his cock with his own saliva, hissing as he first touched it.

As he lined himself up, you tried begging one more time. “Bakugou, Bakugou, please. Please don’t, you don’t want to do this. You can’t! Just let me up, please? Oh god, please, just let me go, I won’t tell anyone.”

He shoved the entirety of his cock inside with one, jarring thrust.

You screamed, voice cracking in the middle. The stinging pain of your ass was forgotten in the face of the jabbing, spiky pain in your lower abdomen. Bakugou hissed, eyes closed in bliss.

“God, you’re fuckin’ tight. You a virgin?”

Tears in your eyes from the unexpected pain of being filled so suddenly, you shook your head no. Bakugou clicked his tongue.

“Ah, I kinda figured. Slut like you probably can’t go a few days without a cock stuffing your cunt.” A thought seemed to cross his mind, and Bakugou’s eyes opened, peering down at you inquisitively, a slight twinkle in his eye.

“Is that why you’ve been such a demanding little princess?” You shook your head no vehemently, the pain slowly fading the longer Bakugou remained still inside you. “Holy fuck, that’s why you’ve been like this all week! You just needed a cock!” The man laughed before reaching a hand down to pat your face condescendingly. “Don’t you worry princess, I’ll give you what you need.”

No further words were spoken, despite how much you wanted to scream and yell and curse at the man above you. He immediately drew his cock back, before thrusting into you again, quickly finding a mind-numbing pace that didn’t allow you any time to think.

His thrusts were smooth, steady, fast - it was hard, no, impossible to stop yourself from moaning at how good everything was starting to feel, despite how much you didn’t want it to. It was even worse when Bakugou’s hand found it’s way to your clit, beginning to furiously rub the little button as he fucked you stupid.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like that?”

You ignored him completely, turning your face against the covers of the guest bed. Bakugou just huffed, increasing his pace ever so slightly.

It wasn’t long before you were gasping, moaning on every other breath, trying to hold yourself back from begging the man to let you cum. You writhed underneath him, trying to arch your hips back to meet every one of his thrusts, ride the hand that was rubbing at your clit so nicely.

Your orgasm hit you out of nowhere.

It fizzed in your stomach, pleasure racing through you so quickly that you lost your breath, muscles locking up. It felt so good, you couldn’t breath, couldn’t move. Bakugou fucked you through it, smirking down as you obviously rode out your orgasm, his finger falling away from your clit before you could get overstimulated.

A few more thrusts, and Bakugou pulled out, quickly moving to straddle your chest as he quickly jerked himself off. His hand made the most lewd sound, squelching up and down his length that was drenched in your juices.

You were so blissed out from your orgasm, you almost didn’t mind when cum started splattering over your face.

You did mind, however, when Bakugou tried to rub it into your skin after he finished. A quick snap of your jaws towards his fingers made your point clear, and Bakugou backed off.

“We have plenty of time to work on you, seems like you still need to be put in your place by the man of the house. Spoiled little princess.”

——

When your mom got home, you barely kept yourself from sobbing in her arms as she hugged you. You wanted to tell her everything that had happened, what Bakugou had done to you - but that would just make her more paranoid, fearful.

She would lock you in the house and never let you leave. Plus it was embarrassing. “Hey mom, by the way, the babysitter you hired for me, your adult child, raped me after spanking me so hard I bruised, and I couldn’t stop him!” Wasn’t a sentence you wanted to utter. You were weak, and stupid.

Bakugou watched in the background, his backpack slung over his shoulder, ready to head across the street and back to his own house. Your mom kissed your hair, finally disentangling herself from your arms, moving to talk to the gruff blond. You stayed by the door, watching Bakugou with narrow eyes.

“We were fine - although, you were right in having someone come over. She’s irresponsible as hell, I don’t know what could’ve happened if I wasn’t here to stop her from doing stupid shit.”

Your mom threw you a disapproving glance, quickly turning to thank Bakugou for helping the two of you out. She pressed money into his hand, but he told her not to worry about it - he got to eat good food, sleep in a nice bed, and the wifi was better here than at his house. Your mom gave him a quick hug, and you watched his face sour, before he quickly moved away from her grasp.

“Just let me know if you ever need me to come hangout with her again - I think it’s good for her to have a strong male figure in her life. And my wifi sucks, so it’s a win-win for everyone.”

Except you.

Your mom clapped her hands together excitedly. “Oh, that’d be perfect! What a nice young man you are, I knew you were trustworthy.”

Your stomach soured.

Bakugou said his goodbyes, obviously trying to get out of the house and away from your touchy mother as quickly as possible. Your mother thanked him again, welcoming him over “at any time!” To use the faster wifi, as long as he wouldn’t mind hanging out with you.

Bakugou gave a gruff laugh, brushing past you on his way out the door. He turned, looking at your mother, then at you.

“I’ll be here to help out, don’t you worry princess.”

You slammed the door in his face.

He was never stepping foot in your house again, not if you could help it.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou headcanons #bakugou #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #yandere #yandere bakugou #oneshot #gross bakugou #uhh idk tags #tags?#yandere bnha

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bookishofalder · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll just leave it at I love you

Summary: In which Hotch and the reader are holed up in a safe house to avoid a killer set on destroying the BAU. A tale of smut, because what else happens when two consenting adults are fighting their feelings, then get stuck in a house together?

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, female reader, domHotch, PIV, virginReader, oral sex, mildly rough, language. WC-3500

A/N: I have crushes on fictional men and I'm not afraid to take that energy and create shit like this for the hell of it! Edited but feedback appreciated.

Hotch was restless, his shower had done nothing to help him relax. He stood in the kitchen, staring into the fridge as if it would give him the answers he needed. He wished he could go for a run, let off some steam. His pent-up energy, this cottage, (Y/N) being so close-it was all too much. The lines of professionalism were bound to blur, but he felt as if they were so far gone in the dust, he couldn’t see them anymore, not in his mind.

Their argument that afternoon had been like a match being lit within a gas station. It had heated up too quickly and then burned away, leaving them both feeling angry and dejected. And she had been right that Hotch was being overprotective, but it didn’t mean the problem would go away, and to just let her go back to DC would only end up in her being hurt, or worse.

He wanted this purgatory to end just as much as (Y/N) did. He longed to be back with his son. And with the team, solving cases. But none of them could do that until the killer was found, and Hotch had no control outside of this cottage.

As thoughts of his control, or the lack thereof, came to mind, he slammed the fridge shut in frustration and sighed. (Y/N) had been challenging him since the moment they set foot in this place, which he could understand. There was no one else, and therefore she took out her anger and fear on him.

He could handle that, he had thought at first.

When she yelled that she should leave, go home, and then offered to be the bait to lure the killer out, Hotch had felt something inside of him snap. The final tethers of his patience and sanity disintegrating. The team were in this together, all making sacrifices to protect (Y/N) because she had been the one receiving the death threats and mysterious packages. She had been the one whose photos were displayed on the walls of the crime scene in DC, a clear message-(Y/N) was the target.

So why was she so determined to leave and put herself in danger?

He was leaning against the counter, his hands gripping the edges. The sound of her soft footsteps approaching alerted him to her presence. Hotch opened his eyes, meeting hers directly. She was standing next to the island, biting her lip and looking at him with dark eyes, her arms wrapped around her middle protectively. She still looked angry. Hotch just stared back at her and waited for her to speak.

“I...” She frowned, “I’m not apologizing.” (Y/N) said stubbornly, making him tense, furious. But he refused to respond, he simply glared at her. He was not going to fight again now, it wouldn’t do either of them any good.

But she stepped into the kitchen further, looking determined.

“You should let me go right now, let me go and lure him out and end this, please.” She looked so hopelessly desperate as she spoke. Hotch shook his head, gripping the counter more fiercely.

“You know I can’t let you leave, just as much as I can’t leave.”

(Y/N) scoffed at his words, pointing toward the front door, “If I decide to walk out that door right now, you can’t stop me, Hotch!” Her eyes flashed dangerously until Hotch stepped away from the counter, standing at his full height. He saw something behind the anger shift, a modicum of fear.

He kept his voice steady, low, “You are not leaving. End of discussion.” She watched him speak, her face twisting further in anger. She turned, abruptly, toward the front door, blind rage overtaking her sensibility, and she moved toward it.

She was in a sweater and jeans, and she walked toward the front door like she was in full combat gear, ready to take on the world. But Hotch was quicker, he reached out and grabbed her arm, jerking her first toward him, and then into the wall behind them. He wasn’t harsh, careful not to hurt her in any way, but her furious yell made clear that she was not impressed. “For fucks sake, Hotch!”

“Jesus Christ, (Y/N), when did you become such a little fucking brat?” He spat, holding her against the wall, he stepped closer, looking down into her eyes, “When did you decide that it was you against the world? I’m right here trying to protect you!”

She stopped struggling and looked at him with wide eyes, “That’s why I want to leave, Hotch! Being cooped up here, knowing you aren’t safe-knowing you’re sacrificing everything for me, I can’t do this to you anymore, I can’t accept this kind of help.” She was breathless, tears burning at her eyes that she refused to let fall, arms pinned to her sides.

He shook his head, sighing, “How can I possibly make clear to you that I am okay with this, that I-I need to be the one to protect you, (Y/N)?” Hotch gripped her arms tighter, still standing so, so close.

“Why? What does that mean, that you need to?” She gazed up at him now, her wide eyes revealing her anger was disappearing, despite her frustrations. “Aaron?”

At the sound of his name, Hotch felt his anger dissolving into something much more powerful. His willpower shattered, and he dipped his head-surprised to find her expression was not of anger or fear now, but anticipation. When he captured her lips with his own, her reaction was instantaneous, her head lifting from the wall to deepen the kiss.

It was bliss, pure bliss.

Hotch slid his hands from her arms, gently cradling her head. He ran his tongue across her lips, and they opened for him, allowing him to taste her. He groaned as she slipped her hands up, gripping his shirt to pull their bodies together.

After a moment, he pulled his head back, panting, “I love you, that’s why. I love you more than I should, and I have for a while now. I think I’ve loved you since we first met, and every day I fall all over again when I see you, or learn something new, and I am never going to let you walk out of a door without me by your side if it means keeping you safe, because I’ve just found you and I never want to lose you, (Y/N).” The words rushed out of him, finally free, his shoulders lighter already.

“I thought it was just me.” She was looking at him in adoration now, tears falling, “I thought, a man like you...never, not for me, look but don’t hope.” She sniffled, and he wiped away her tears with his thumbs, kissing her forehead. “Aaron, I love you too.” At her words he brought their lips crashing together again, holding nothing back now.

He pressed (Y/N) into the wall, delighted at her gasp when she felt him hard against her stomach. He trailed his hands down, to her hips, behind her thighs. He had to stoop slightly, she was so short, and he scooped her up. Her heat made contact with him and they both groaned at the sensation before Hotch hastily carried her the few steps into the bedroom. Hotch laid (Y/N) down on the bed carefully, one hand sliding protectively behind her head. She kept her legs around him, holding him close and taking on his weight.

For a few minutes, they continued kissing, until Hotch broke away to begin exploring her body. Shifting his weight and kneeling, his hands travelled down, gently. She moaned softly, then whimpered when his hand traced over her breast, her nipple hard within her thin sweatshirt. Hotch sat up, pulling her with him so that he could pull the sweater over her head. She complied without hesitation, seeming to consent to his control.

But he was a gentleman, “Just tell me if you want to stop, okay, (Y/N)?” He breathed, pausing as he reached for her beautiful, bare breasts. She nodded, but Hotch needed to hear her say it, and she read that in his expression.

“I promise, Hotch.” She gasped out, writhing in anticipation. He began kneading her breasts, only to find she was sensitive here-his fingers brushing over her nipples caused her to jerk slightly, moans unending. He gently eased her back to lay again, before pulling his shirt off.

Momentarily, he became self-conscious of the scars scattered across his torso, now exposed. (Y/N) reached up, tracing one with her finger, “You’re perfect, Aaron.” Worry ceased at her words, his heart swelling. In response, he ducked his head and brought his mouth to her chest, his tongue flicking over her nipple. She reacted instantly, her back arching and a hand gripping his hair, encouraging him.

He took his time teasing her, moving between each breast, he ignored her hips seeking friction against him. For as long as he could stand.

A whimper escaped her lips, so full of longing it had Hotch glance up, meeting her eyes. Her pupils were blown out, desire flushing her face, lips trembling, “Hotch...”. He shifted again, this time slipping his thumbs into her waistband, tugging. She lifted her hips to help, and he swiftly removed her pants and underwear in one swoop, tossing them on the floor.

Automatically and instinctively, her legs closed. Hotch caught her left leg, pushing his hand down her inner thigh. She writhed beneath him, but her leg stiffened, and he looked at her closely, “What’s the matter, baby girl?” He whispered, concerned.

She peered up at him, looking shy, “I...I’ve never been able to cum that way, and I know men don’t really like to, you know, so you don’t have to.” Hotch gazed at her in surprise.

“Is that what you think? I don’t want to taste you?” He held her gaze, but moved his hand down, sliding a finger across her heat. Her hips bucked, “I’m going to taste you cum in my mouth, sweetheart. I’ll show you just how much I’ve been wanting this, okay?” She nodded eagerly, her breathing erratic, legs relaxing slightly.

Hotch pushed himself down the bed and hooked her legs over his shoulders, finally coming face to face with her; she was glistening for him. He groaned. “Sweetheart, you’re so wet for me already.” She merely mewled in response as his fingers explored her folds. She was well-groomed, her hair trimmed fairly short, giving him a full few of her; his mouth watered.

The moment Hotch felt her legs relax on his shoulders, becoming more comfortable with his face being so close to her, he dove in. He quickly moved his hands to grip her hips, holding her in place as he began to lick up her slit, then press his tongue into her clit. She bucked and writhed, fighting against his grip to no avail.

“Oh god, oh god, Aaron, please, please...”

He smiled against her, pulling back slightly, “Please what, baby girl? What do you need?” He licked her again, and she cried out, lifting her head to look down at him. She tasted divine, which only drove him to lick and suck more, waiting for her to respond.

It took her a few minutes to form words as his assault on her clit continued, “Need...I think I might...uh, cum, Aaron.” She groaned his name, and he laughed against her, which sent vibrations deep into her. He kept up his pace, felt her tensing more, shivering beneath him.

“Cum baby girl, let go for me.” He ordered, and it was like she’d been waiting for his permission. Her back arched up and he felt her throb against his tongue, a soft cry escaped her lips. She jerked in her orgasm, over and over. He sucked lightly on her and she trembled in response, tears spilling out of her eyes before she fell back into the bed, coming down from her high.

“Oh god, oh,” She breathed, and Aaron backed off, sliding up the bed to lay next to her. He watched her catch her breath, revelling in her blissed-out expression, her red cheeks. He waited a few moments, letting her come down. “I’ve never, ever had an orgasm like that, Christ.”

Hotch laughed, leaning over her and planting gentle kisses along her hairline, her eyes, the tip of her nose, “We can stop here if you want to.” He suggested, but of course, Aaron had forgotten her age. 25 years old, in good shape-orgasm or not, she wasn’t done yet. Her eyes flew open and met his, pupils fully dilated still.

“I want to keep going, but I have to tell you something first,” (Y/N) stayed laying, but drew her legs together, “And if you decide you think we should stop, then I fully accept that.”

He tilted his head, eyes exploring her worried expression, “What is it, sweetheart?” His hand had been roaming absentmindedly, but he stopped at her hip. He gazed down at her, brows furrowed.

She seemed to steel herself, taking a deep breath.

“I’ve, never-you know, had sex,” Seeing his shocked expression, she began to ramble, “It just never happened, with anyone I dated when I was younger, and it got to the point where it was an afterthought, especially after I bought an expensive vibrator, and I know that it’s weird or, whatever, to be 25 and this inexperienced, but-“

“(Y/N),” He cut her off, stroking her cheek gently, “Thank you for telling me. But it doesn’t change my mind, about anything. I would understand if this was far enough, for now, truly, so just tell me what you want.” He hoped he could spend the rest of his life making her feel better, happy, loved. They didn’t need to continue if she wasn’t ready.

“Hotch, I...I want you, I always have,” She shifted slightly, and he watched her breathing pick up in anticipation, “I’ve thought about it, so many times...when I shouldn’t have, especially.”

His interest was piqued. Hotch rolled over her, bracing his weight on his arm, pressing his erection against her, his pants still on, “Really? Tell me.” He said, noting how she flushed any time he ordered her to do something.

“The first time I thought about it, was back at headquarters after the first case we worked when you came back to work. You were in your office and I dropped off everyone’s reports,” Hotch remembered this evening, as he’d been surprised to find the newest team member picking up the slack and finalizing everyone’s notes for submission, “You had taken off your tie, and you’d been so good to me in the field, so kind. But when I knocked on the door you were deep in thought and at first, you glared at me and I thought ‘how much would I give to climb up on that desk and get rid of that frown’.”

Hotch hissed at her words, grounding against her harshly, “You wanted me that soon?” (Y/N) nodded, a breathy moan escaping.

“After that, I thought about you too often. I had to use my vibrator the moment I got home, every day. I had to bring it on the road, even. I wanted you to take me, everywhere, anywhere, as much as you wanted.” Hotch groaned, pushed her down and sat back, swiftly removing his pants and briefs. (Y/N)’s head popped up and looked at his erection, her eyes widening in shock, instantly licking her lips. “Holy shit, Hotch...” He laughed at her words.

“I’ve been wishing I could bend you over my desk for months now, but I had no idea you hadn’t ever done this before. I want to see your face, baby girl.” Something in his voice caused her eyes to widen, further. He lowered himself, reaching down with one hand to push his length along her folds, wetting it in her juices.”Oh fuck, you’re so ready for me baby girl, tell me you want this.”

She knew he needed to hear her give permission again, and she gave it instantly, “Please Aaron, please I need you, ple-oh!” She gasped as he pushed into her, hard. Stiffening, a low groan broke free, her eyes shut tightly. He buried himself completely inside of her before freezing, waiting for her pain to subside. Pleasure rippled through Hotch.

Hotch kissed her gently as she whimpered in pain, “You did so good, sweetheart, it’ll be okay in a minute, just breath for me,” He whispered, stroking her hair back, watching her face closely. For a few moments, her eyes stayed shut, screwed up against the sensation, and he gave her credit for taking her time to adjust. He knew he was larger than average, and she was so tight around him. He had to keep still for both her sake and his own, fearing her tightness alone would send him over the edge-he wanted to take his time and make her feel...everything.

He felt when her body had adjusted, the tension in her lower body relaxing, her eyes beginning to open. He tested the waters, moving his hips back slightly, and then sinking into her again. He groaned, watching as her face lit up at his movements; so he repeated them, moving further back this time.

“Oh fuck, Aaron!” That was all he needed to hear. He moved over her, bracing his arms on the bed on either side of her head, his hands near her face, and began to thrust quickly, long strokes that brought stars to his vision. And she was loud beneath him, one hand on his chest, the other gripping his shoulder, screaming his name. He pounded into her, groaning, and he buried his face in her neck, biting gently, which only elicited further shouts, her hips bucking slightly to meet his movements.

“Oh baby girl, you are taking me so well, fuck,” He bit her neck again, and she jerked in response, her walls squeezing him. “Such a good girl for me, such a good girl.”

“Sir, please, please don’t stop.” She whimpered, and Hotch’s eyes flew open in surprise, her words sending a shiver down his body.

He stared down at (Y/N), who seemed surprised at herself, but a small smirk quirked her lips, and he growled, a hand sliding behind her head and gripping her hair, the other grabbing her jaw, gentle but firm. “Say that again.” He kept his pace, pleasure building.

“Uh, sir, fuck me, please sir!” (Y/N) was a writhing mess beneath him, loving his reaction, his dominance, her eyes watching him in delight. She arched slightly as his thrusts became almost brutal, and began to call his name over and over, unable to stop.

Hotch leaned down and bit her neck again, leaving another mark, and she began to tremble beneath him, words escaping her when his thrusts bottomed out, hitting her deep, eyes-rolling. He kissed her, but she was so blissed out it barely registered, which only made him happier. “Fuck...Good, baby girl, so good...cum for me again okay? You can cum for me now, fuck!”

On his last word, he gave an almighty thrust and she screamed, her hands clutching his shoulders as the wave broke over her, her body tensing, squeezing him, and then, “Aaron!” It was his undoing and he came with her, spilling himself inside her as he moaned her name. He brought his head down and kissed her breasts, jerking wildly into her, his thrusts sloppy. Her body relaxed as she came down from her high.

“Oh sweetheart,” He breathed, slowly easing out of her, before collapsing on the bed beside her. He pulled her to him, and she obliged, rolling over and resting her head on his chest, while they both remained silent, catching their breath. “You did so well, baby girl.” He kissed the top of her head.

“That was-I mean,” (Y/N) stammered, struggling to find words. Inwardly, Hotch smirked, happy to know he’d rendered her somewhat speechless. “I think I’ll just leave it at I love you.” She began to giggle, gazing up at him.

Hotch joined her, months of tension and longing now gone, and in its place a happy new beginning. They still had forces outside of their cozy little hideaway that worked against them, but for the time being, he and (Y/N) could simply enjoy the clear air between them.

The rest of the world could wait.

“I love you, too, (Y/N)”

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

#reader insert #hotch x reader #hotchner x reader #hotchner x y/n #hotchner x you #hotch smut #hotch x y/n #smut #angst #fluff #bau x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #Aaron Hotchner #fanfic #love

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sloppy-butcher · 4 years ago

Note

Jealous David king and jake park headcannons I demand of you (in the least demanding way possible uwu) 🥺❤️

haha don’t you worry anon. i got you owo. thank you for the ask and thank you for waiting for so long <3 hope these are good enough for you <333

its kinda nsfw? its only kissing but like.. yknow..

Headcanons for Jealous! David King and Jake Park

David King

Don’t let this guy's tough exterior fool you, deep down inside he is really a sensitive fellow. You can tell when his mood shifts merely, by the way, he looks at you or by the way his hands flexes on your knee. He has a keen sense of all others around you, watching like a hawk for any signs of trouble or danger even if you were only surrounded by friends. He acts broody and unbothered - he has to when considering what labels life has put on his because of the masculine physique, but truly, he is smart and knows when your graze lingers on another for a suspicious amount of time.

David is naturally friends with all other survivors - he’s the dedicated bodyguard. An intrinsic desire to protect those weaker than him (which happens to include almost every other survivor) drives David to befriend all other survivors and instinctively they flock to him. He is safety, he is light and all things good. So when David notices that you start to hang around another person more than you would with him, laughing more and touching their shoulder as you talked, it takes a lot for him to get angry. Sure, his chest puffs out and he marches over to you, draping his beefy arm over your body and leaning into your conversation, but he never actively pushes the other person away or even throws them a glare. He hopes that through these simple gestures you will understand what he is so upset about.

If by some miracle, you do not pick up on his souring mood, David would shift his tactics into overdrive. He’s a big guy and he knows it and he certainly knows how to use it. When next you are in a trial with him and the other survivor in question, David arrives shirtless. You lose blood at the sight alone, feeling weak in the knees and light-headed. He was heavenly, glowing in pride, and god-like beauty. He was foolishly brave for exposing himself in such an indecent (but not unappreciated) manner, and you made sure to scold him every chance you got. “Why are you doing this?” You whisper-shout at him from the other side of a gen. David shrugs, passing a cool eye over the third party member who shuddered under his gaze. He stretched his chest and tensed his arms accentuating the glorious muscle. “No reason.”

He would become overly-protective of you to the point that it was self-damaging. He’d throw himself recklessly between you and the killer, going in for risky hook saves without a care for the killer's whereabouts. It was you he only cared about - only you. He had just unhooked you from your second stage and had led you to the corner of the area to heal. Though your clothes grew red with blood, you bit back the whimpers of pain and instead looked up at the man you loved. You knew something was wrong. “David,” You called, a small hand reaching up and cupping his bruised face gently. At your touch, he softened and hummed, leaning into your palm, seeking your comfort and warmth. “Why are you acting like this?” For a moment he debated where to ignore your question or not. But at the look in your eye, the desperately sweet and tender embrace of compassion, he relented and sighed, feeling horrid guilt crawl up his spine like sickening spiders. “You do love me, right?” He asked, attention downcast. Had you not trying to be quiet you would have gasped in disbelief. “David, of course! A thousand times, of course! How could I ever love anyone else when you exist?” You lift your other hand to his face and careful brush back stray strands of brown hair. Still, he refuses to look at you. Of course, you loved him. Yet he still allowed himself to doubt you - he felt ashamed. You lean forward and press your forehead to his, trying with all your might to radiate your love for the stupid man. After a moment he smiles and finally brings his eyes up to yours - they were filled with tears.

“Oh, my love.” You coo closing the distance and kissing him tenderly. He gives in to you, pushing back with force restricted, he had much more to give you but restrained himself and allowed you to lead. A large hand finds its way up to your back and offers you structure as the embrace deepens, tongues flickering about and dancing in each other's mouths. David feels heat replace shame and love replace jealousy. There was no way this was not real love for if it was then you were the greatest actor in all the world. After a few minutes, you break apart, a trail of saliva connecting your two lips. He's panting hard, trying to remain aware enough to hear you speak. At this point, he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in you, bleed into your love like how the sun breaks the evening sky. “I should get you jealous more often,” You hum, feeling him chuckle in response.

Jake Park

Jake is a most peculiar case. He acts aloof, floating above all other humans and their mortal troubles in an untouchable manner. To be jealous of another person is a complete waste of energy and time for him. He looks down at melodrama and scoffs at things so simple. But if you can get Jake to open up, to get him to take you in and love you, then his whole previous attitude changes.

Jake is never overly clingy, never the first to initiate any form of physical affection - in front of other people that is. In the quiet woods when the only eyes are yours and his, he reaches for you like a child with fingers twitching and expression desperate. Do not shun him away and he will bloom under your light. He is a thirsty man, always in need of your watering embrace. While you are in the presence of other people, however, Jake is more reversed, only ever standing near you and only occasionally holding your hand. He watches you constantly and notices immediately when your gaze shifts to another survivor and stays there for much longer than his liking.

He wouldn’t call it being jealous - it’s more like he’s being overprotective. If you are found sitting alone at the campfire, he practically sprints over and sits beside you without a word or a look. If you are on-hook, he will drop all previous activities to travel across the realm to save you before anyone else has the chance. It is sweet and enduring, to be doted upon so totally and devotedly, but you start to realize his true intentions when one day you catch the look he gives the other survivors.

Never had you seen such a dark expression on your man before, the lines around his gentle hazel eyes growing incredibly heavy and dirty. He glares pure poison at anyone near you, spitting at them with nothing but a mere downward twitch on his mouth. The others would react violently, hands raising up in a defenseless gesture as they backed away from you and your fuming partner. You’d feel pressure on your shoulder and looking over you’d see Jake pushing himself into you, his attention following the retreating survivor. Jake was digging a trench between himself and the others, isolating himself in the saddest and heartbreaking manner.

“Why are you so angry, Jake? What has happened to you?” You ask him one evening while the two of you sit alone in a forest clearing, earning nothing but a soft ‘hmm’ from the man as his hands worked masterfully on repairing his toolbox. You sigh and shuffle closer, knowing full well that he could not deny you if he felt you so near him. He visibly stiffens as your hand overlaps his, fingers snaking into his own. “I have never seen you so angry before. Has anyone hurt you? Want me to go beat them up?” He laughs at your suggestion, finally relenting to your advances and passing you a soft side-eye. At the comfort of your furrowed brow, Jake felt his jealous boil and seethe and eventually soothe - you were so calm and understanding and he felt terrible for harboring such negative emotions.

“I have seen how you look at the other survivor. How you... long for them.” Jake falls despondent and quiet, retreating back into himself where nothing could hurt him, sinking down to a place where would he be safe. Just as the total blackness would threaten to take him all, you grabbed his hand and pulled his head out of the murky water.

“Jake. You are the only one for me. The others come and go but you,” You cup his cheek in your hand, “, are forever.” All the world leaves his body at your words and he leans into you. “You must stop shutting yourself away from everyone else,” You scolding tone failed as it barely had the strength to stand on its own as he distracted you with his expression and Jake closes his eyes and covers your hand with his gloved one. He moves it over his mouth and you feel him start to kiss your palm. You shiver at his butterfly touches. “I’m sorry.” He breathes in between kisses, talking directly into your skin. His other hand moves towards your head and suddenly he’s pulling you towards him, facing you completely. Gaining confidence he glides up your arm and to your eagerly offered neck. His lips are cold and there is hard stumble on his chin that tickles your sensitive neck wonderfully. You gasp as he bites down, teething you until he left a red, sore spot. He grins at your reaction. Jake then spends the next few minutes branding you with his mark, awarding your skin with the sign of his presence there. You were his alone and though you may wonder and gaze out the window at passers-by, you would always return to him.

#its himbo and feral hours #dbd imagine #dbd headcanons #dbd x reader #dbd david king #dbd david king x reader #dbd jake park #dbd jake park x reader

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shreddedparchment · 5 years ago

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.16

A Shared Bed

11/17/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 6,113

Warnings: nakedness, angst, fluff, lots of fluff, finally some fluff, language

A/N: I don’t know how often I’ll be updating after this one as work is about to blow up with the holidays. Please be patient and thank you to those who already are! xoxo I hope you enjoy this chapter. I had such fun writing it and finally...just...FINALLY. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

TAGS ARE CLOSED FOR THIS STORY!

The castle is brimming with people.

They have been coming and going since late afternoon yesterday and you haven’t seen his Majesty since your reunion in the open courtyard outside of the gardens.

It’s all felt a little like a dream too good to be true. Except for the blonde. Lady Sharon. Who has stuck close to his Majesty’s side—or so you’ve heard from Peter who you finally sent for.

“Why is she with him?” You wonder, trying not to let your jealousy show but there’s an edge in your voice. You’re on pins and needles with this woman.

“They uh…” Peter hesitates, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably.

You turn to look at him, having been watching the come and go of decorators, musicians, and the general gentry. The castle is echoing with laughter and chatter and there’s an air of excitement flowing through the staff. Only your friends are receptive to your own mood.

Only Nat has been with you since yesterday and watched you go from a smiling idiot to a stressed-out pregnant woman.

She’d been a little surprised that you were so ready to forgive him, but she was also pleased.

“They have business to speak of.” Nat tells you, getting up from her seat by your fire and moving to serve you some tea. “Come have some tea. Don’t worry about Sharon. She’s nothing to worry about. Trust me.”

You turn to move to your designated chair, extra padding added at Grandmother’s request. She and Nat are serious ramping up the overprotectiveness as of late.

“Why don’t I need to worry about her? And what business would she have with him?” Okay, so you’re more than just a little jealous.

It’s icky, and deep in your chest. No, in your ribs. In your bones. Moving like searing magma, charring your insides and making you feel wretched.

“Didn’t he tell you that you didn’t have to worry about Sharon?” Nat asks.

“Yes.” You sigh, reaching for your cup as she holds it out.

“Steve is a man of his word. You have nothing to worry about.” She promises.

But you’re not convinced.

You give Peter a wary look and he seems to read you easily as he gives you a quick smile then backs out of the room and shuts the door for you to give you and Nat some privacy. Not that he won’t be able to hear you…but at least he won’t see you directly.

“But she had her hands all over him.” You sigh, taking a sip. “And she was so…”

You bite your lip, thinking of the regal woman you’d seen holding tight to his Majesty’s arm. The two of them had looked so right side by side. A beautiful couple. The queen he deserves.

“I know what she looks like. And she’s a lovely person. She wouldn’t try anything, Y/N.” Nat assures you, but you’re only half listening.

“Nat…” You begin.

“I promise you, Y/N. If he says that there is nothing to worry about-”

“No.” You interrupt her, “It’s not…I told him.”

Nat’s face blanks as she slowly sits herself down, placing the plate of cold meats she’d been serving you down.

“You told him you’re pregnant?” She whispers, so quiet that you have to read her mouth to understand.

Peter’s just outside.

“No.” You shake your head. “I…I told him that I’m not really father’s daughter. That he found me on the side of the road.”

“What?” Nat asks, her hand completely still, unlike the shift in her eyes that tells you she’s on alert suddenly. “Why?”

“Because he was telling me that I was his pearl and his gem and that I was true royalty and grace and all these other really nice things and I-I’m none of that, Natasha. I just couldn’t stand there and watch him make love to me thinking that I’m more than I truly am, so I told him.” You swallow hard, your mind reliving the beautiful memory over and over.

“What did he say?” She asks, voice tight and controlled.

“I know it was your specifically assigned task to keep my secret. To protect it. To make sure that I was never exposed but-”

“What did he say?” She repeats, a bit sterner.

“I told him I was no one. But he told me that I’m a Rogers.” The flutter that fills your chest is pleasant. The smile that tugs at your lips us unstoppable. “I thought he would throw me out.”

Nat releases a slow breath, then reaches over to place her hand over yours.

“And you haven’t told him you’re pregnant?” She asks, a bit more loudly than she probably planned but at this point, you figure she doesn’t care.

There’s an audible sound of a chair clattering on the other side of your door and you guess that Peter now knows.

A split second later, the door is thrown open.

“You’re pregnant?!” Peter gasps.

“Shh.” Nat chastises him, rushing up to shut the doors behind him after taking a quick peek out.

You’re smiling at him thought, biting into your bottom lip.

“And you’re not really King Stark’s daughter?” He shakes his head. “Not that it matters. You’re my queen. And my friend. I think. Right?”

You chuckle a little, so happy to have Peter in your life as your personal guard and a true friend.

“Of course, you’re my friend. More. You’re family, Peter.” And he beams. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my true-”

“As happy as I am that Steve seems accepting of your true lineage, we should not advertise it. There are people who would use it to hurt you. From this moment on, you don’t speak of it. Okay?” Nat orders, turning a rare look of authority on you and Peter.

“Right. Of course.” Peter nods.

You’re more intrigued by her reasons though and though you promise yourself not to bring it up again ever, your brow is furrowed with curiosity.

“Who? How would they use it to hurt me?” You wonder.

“There are people who don’t want Steve as King. People who think they could do a better job. People who don’t think he deserves to be on the throne.” Nat moves to push your plate food closer.

“Why? He’s a good king.” You observe, thinking about how he was so kind and accommodating during his meetings with the people. The way he’d praised you for taking the initiative to help the poor.

He truly seems like a good man trying to rule his kingdom as best he can.

“There’s only one reason that he would have reacted badly to your…revelation yesterday. And it’s exactly for that reason. Because it’s a weapon that his enemies might use against him. But he loves you too much to care about that now.” She says.

“So, my low birth wouldn’t have mattered to him to begin with?” You wonder, watching Nat as she settles into her seat and relaxes now that all your cards are on the table.

“No.” She nods at your plate. “Please eat.”

You pick at the food. “Why?”

Nat meets your eyes and offers you a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

“No. Not that one. Blue or red. Keep the blues around my queen. She looks lovely in blue.” Steve gushes, smiling like an idiot. “She looks lovely in anything.”

Behind him, Bucky laughs. Sam’s smile is wide as he shakes his head.

“What?” Steve asks, turning to look at the two as they linger by the doorway.

“She’s forgiven you for a few hours and she’s already got you wrapped around her finger.” Samuel notices.

“I am not…” Steve begins, attempting to deny it but there is no sense in doing so. Every bit of what he just said is absolutely true. “I can’t help it. I thought I’d lost her.”

“We know.” Bucky assures him. “We’re happy for you, Steve.”

After a moment, Samuel moves over to a few of the decorators and whispers in their ears.

They drop their tapestries and tablecloths, ornamental candelabras, and plush reupholstered cushions. Quietly they leave the large room and shut the door behind them.

Sam follows. Checking to make sure the door is properly shut and locked before he moves with Bucky over to Steve as he fusses with your seat beside his. Both are even in height though before yours had been smaller.

Steve can’t believe he’d let you keep sitting in that. You’re his Queen.

He feels a sudden surge of pride and pure elation at the thought of such a woman by his side.

A pigeon you most definitely aren’t and he’s not sure why you’d pick that name of all the things he might call you.

“…I’m of no consequence.” You’d said. “I’m no one.”

He could see it in your eyes, the way Sharon must have made you feel. Out of place. Not good enough even though that’s far from the truth.

Sharon is trained, taught to be a lady from the day she was born. Like Maggie. Like all the other women in his life, save two. Natasha, and…

“How are you holding up?” Sam asks, and because Steve’s mind is already there, he knows what Sam means.

Steve moves to his seat and settles in, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

The sleeves of his plain cream linen shirt are rolled up, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He’s sleepy. He hasn’t slept since the night before last. And yet, he smiles. His pink lips curl up into a small smirk as he looks up and meets Bucky’s grinning expression and Sam’s worried gaze.

“I’m fine.” He assures them, looking down at his hands. He can still feel you in them. Body trembling a little but pressed softly against his own.

You’d melted against him, as if you couldn’t help yourself. You still like him. For some odd reason…

“I didn’t think you’d be.” Sam says.

“I did.” Bucky counters.

“You always said-” Sam continues.

“I know what I said. I should have known better. My own mother rose from nothing.” He begins.

“Not exactly nothing,” Sam says, “She was a noble woman.”

“A poor one.” Steve nods.

Sam continues. “She owned extensive lands without having access to them because of the clause in her father’s will that she had to marry first. The dowager Queen was rich, Steve. Before she married the King. Not poor.”

“In name only. She didn’t have access to any of that wealth.”

“Point is,” Sam continues more firmly. “She was raised as a lady. She attended feasts and dances and she came to court which is how King Joseph fell in love with her in the first place. If Y/N had not agreed to do what she did, the two of you would have never crossed paths.”

“And I would have lost my kingdom.” Steve points out, feeling a little miffed that Samuel is painting this picture of you forever poor in whatever village you came from, away from him. Never to be seen or held. Not by him.

Maybe you’d have married some farmer? Or a butcher? Maybe you’d have married a drunk and he might have beat you every day?

Steve sits back and grips the arms of his chair, squeezing them until the woodgrain is etched into his skin and the creak of it bending in his angry grasp brings Bucky’s and Sam’s eyes to them.

“I don’t know what motivations Y/N had for agreeing to this arrangement. I know that it’s odd. It’s suspicious in some ways. But Tony trusts her, and I’ve seen her as she truly is. She’s not capable of deceit of this magnitude. Not on her own.” Steve’s grip relaxes.

“She has been lying to you about her lineage since she arrived. What do you mean she isn’t capable of deceit?” Sam questions, and although Steve knows he’s only doing his job as one of his advisors, he really hates him for planting these seeds of doubt in his mind.

You’re so sweet and perfect. Why can’t you just be you and not have an ulterior motive?

“Sam…” Steve sighs, shutting his eyes tight then opening them as if to clear them. “Why are you trying to ruin this for me?”

“I’m not.” Sam tells him. “I’m not.”

Steve opens his eyes and sees him eyeing Bucky who’s frowning at him.

“All I am saying is that you need to talk to her. Get her side of the story. The truth. Until we know everything, this is risky, Steve. We could be putting the whole kingdom in jeopardy.”

As if Steve doesn’t know that he would be the one putting the kingdom in jeopardy, not we as Sam says.

“I doubt she’s a spy, Sam.” Bucky interjects, moving to sit on the table fully, metal hand and flesh hand held between his legs loosely. “I met her in King Stark’s castle and she’s just as she was then, now.”

“And you’re probably right.” Sam nods. “She’s very sweet and kind and she is the queen our king deserves, but I just want to be certain.”

For a long minute, silence invades the room as Steve’s mind reels with the possibilities of what your lie might mean. You’d confessed so readily, as if you’d been dying to do so for so long.

He also knows you were coerced into confessing by jealousy.

He can’t help it. He smiles, cheeks sore from how happy he’s been, grinning like a fool.

“What?” Bucky checks, tearing his eyes away from Sam.

“Nothing.” Steve continues to smile. “It’s of no consequence.”

“That can’t be true if you’re grinning like that.” Bucky argues. “Tell me.”

“No.” Steve gets up then moves towards the doors.

“Come on, Steve.” Bucky complains.

“Maybe it’s private?” Sam offers.

“No. It’s not private.” Bucky realizes. “He’s just embarrassed. Are you being sappy again?”

Steve’s cheeks burn scarlet and his ears flame on as he stops by the doors, hands on the handles.

“She’s cute when she’s jealous.” Steve smiles. “She doesn’t know how impossible it is for me to want anyone else.”

“He’s being sappy again.” Sam agrees.

“You need a wife.” Steve tells Sam, then turns to Bucky. “And maybe if you were a bit more eager to make love to Natasha she would come around and finally say yes.”

“I do make love to her!” Bucky says. “I tell her how beautiful she is. I bring her flowers and gifts.”

“Nat said that Y/N hasn’t opened even half of my presents. She’s kept them in a pile in her room, but she reads my letters often. Sometimes, you need to tell a woman what you truly feel, or she might never know.” Steve looks at his best friend. “When’s the last time you told her you loved her and exactly what she means to you?”

Bucky opens his mouth to speak but then shuts it when he can’t remember when.

“I’m going to go remind my own beauty how much I love her. You’re welcome to tag along.” He offers, then turns and heads out the door as his decorators bow their heads.

Sam and Bucky watch him go, observing the bounce in his step.

“When do you think he’ll forgive himself?” Sam wonders.

“For which part?” Bucky asks. “Never, Sam. Even if they’re married all their lives. I don’t think he’ll ever stop trying to make up for what he did to her.”

“You mean their wedding night?” Sam nods.

“All of it. If I did to Nat what he did to Y/N…well, I’d be dead for one, but she would never forgive me.” Bucky moves towards the door as the decorators come rushing inside and back to work.

“Has she forgiven him?” Sam follows.

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A knock on your door startles you.

“Wait!” Peter’s voice pipes. “You can’t go in there yet.”

“Why not?”

His Majesty’s voice sends your heart into a thrill and you quickly rise from your tub.

Freshly bathed, you make to step out, but Natasha throws her arms out towards you.

“Wait!” She cautions. “Don’t! I’ll come to you.”

The panic in her eyes throws you and you realize that she’s afraid you’ll slip. But you’re already halfway out of the tub so you freeze with one foot on the carpet and the other inside your tub.

“What’s going on?” His Majesty asks, knocking on the door again. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“She’s fine. What do you want?!” Nat asks, irritated and rushing to you to help you step out fully and then wrap you up in your robe.

You look down as it clings to your form and you can see the bump of your barely forming belly and you can’t let him see you like this. He’ll know. You’re not ready to tell him yet.

I should tell him, though.

You chew your lip as Nat suddenly throws a thicker robe over your shoulders and wraps you up tight.

“There you go.” She smiles at you, reassuring you. “Should I let him in?”

“What do you mean, what do I want? I want to see my wife.” His Majesty argues, the grumpy note in his voice clear.

He doesn’t like being kept out of your room and it’s probably because he doesn’t want to take a step back after yesterday.

If you’re honest, you can’t wait to see him either.

You nod in answer to Nat’s question and she makes sure that your tummy is carefully padded with robe and then moves to open the door.

She cracks it open at first and you watch her back, relaxed from previous tension, as she looks through the split in the door up at a single blue eye as it peers in, eager to get a look at you.

“What if she doesn’t want to see you?” She wonders.

“Should I leave?” His Majesty asks, ready to comply but you can hear the regret in his voice and your heart gives a small ache.

You shake your head without speaking.

“If it was me, you’d be castrated and beheaded by now.” Nat informs him.

“Are you threatening your king?” His Majesty wonders, playfully though, so you know this must be normal.

“Every day.” She promises, then moves aside and pulls the door open.

His majesty is a vision…

He’s not dressed in anything fancy. He’s wearing a pair of plain trousers, the ones he wears when he goes on his rides or for a walk. His shirt is simple white linen, sleeves clinging tight to his arm’s muscles except around the forearm where they puff out and meet cinched at his wrist.

He looks tired, however. Eyes slightly dry. Hair a little limp. You can see it in him when he blinks, and his eyes struggle to reopen.

“You’re tired.” You realize, out loud, without meaning to.

The smile his mouth twists into, bright and brimming with joy dazzles you and you’re out of breath.

“You’re worried about me?” His gasps, moving towards you, ignoring Nat as he passes her.

Behind him, another familiar head with long black hair peeks in. Ice blue eyes look at the redhead and he wiggles his eyebrows. “My love.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you and Sam would be tied up all day.?” She wonders, reaching out for him and he takes her hand, kisses it, then smiles.

“I was given a lecture about showing appreciation for my woman.” Bucky explains.

“Your woman? Excuse you, good sir, but I am my own woman.” Natasha argues, her hand still in his.

“And yet, you’re mind. Come, let’s go for a walk before we lose the chance. You won’t mind if I steal my lovely betrothed, do you, your Majesty?” Bucky asks, looking at you as his Majesty reaches you and places his arms on your forearms, caressing them, holding them as he pulls you closer.

“N-no.” You reply, distracted.

“I’ll be back in half an hour to get you dressed.” Natasha says, fixing you with a reassuring gaze.

She wants you to tell him about the baby. She’s worried about the throne. She also wants you to be happy.

“Okay.” You whisper, very aware of the heat radiating off his Majesty’s body.

“Come on, Peter.” Natasha says, gripping his arm.

“What?” He replies in shock. “But-”

“I’m sure they don’t want an audience. Go get something to eat and maybe change for tonight? This’ll be your only chance.” She points out and without further argument, she closes the door behind her leaving you and his Majesty alone in your room.

The crackle of the fire is loud. Deafening in the weighty silence between you and his Majesty.

Your heart begins to pound. Nervous, you think about your tummy and almost look down at it but remind yourself that you shouldn’t, so you don’t.

When you think you might go crazy, your mind worrying about a million different things, you shut your eyes and inhale.

“Are you alright?” His Majesty asks. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you. I would have but something has happened, and we had to act very quickly.”

“What happened?” You wonder, grasping at anything to fill the silence.

His Majesty looks down at your chest then back up to meet your gaze as he considers what to say.

Does he not trust you?

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t trust me.” You say, miffed, and your voice is suddenly a bit colder.

“No.” He sighs. “No, Y/N, it isn’t that. I just don’t know how much to tell you. You need to know. It concerns your safety too.”

“My safety?” You ask, squeaking a little in fear but not for your own life but the one you carry in your tummy.

He nods. “Mmm.” His hands are explorative. Tracing the lines of your arms all the way back to your shoulders then down again.

As you begin to chew your lip, he reaches up and traces your bottom lip.

“Don’t be nervous, my flower. I’ll never let anyone hurt you.” He assures you.

You shut your eyes, relishing in his touch but also trying to comprehend this man with the one that wouldn’t let you touch him.

“I’m…I’m a little overwhelmed.” You admit.

“Why?” He checks, suddenly pulling you towards a seat by your breakfast table. He makes sure you’re sitting then squats down in front of you.

He’s so tall even low as he is, he’s only an inch or so shorter.

“This change between us-?” You begin, but he sighs, and you stop speaking.

“It’s my fault, this distance between us. We have a lot to talk about. More than you know but know that I’m ready for you now.” He nods.

“I wish you’d been ready before.” You sigh.

“Me too.” His Majesty admits. “Every word that I’ve written to you is the truth. I have loved you since almost the moment we met. I fought myself hard because I didn’t think it was right, but she would not have wanted me to be cruel. She would have wanted me to be happy.”

You frown, hating the mention of Maggie from him. It’s bad, but you can’t help it.

“And I know I’m risking expulsion from your presence again by bringing her up but trust me when I say that I will never compare you to her again. I-Do you want to hit me?” He offers.

“Will it hurt?” You wonder, tempted.

He smiles, a small smirk at your threat. “Probably not. But I’d understand that it should.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, your Majesty.” You sigh.

“Steve, please, flower. Call me Steve.” He begs.

“I can’t yet.” You sigh.

He buries his face into your lap, just hating himself more for what he’s done to you.

Your heartbeat spikes, he’s so close to your stomach.

“I don’t want to replace Margaret.” You continue, eager to move on. “I never wanted to. Or to hurt you. All I wanted was for you to give me a chance.”

He looks up at you and your voice nearly chokes. Somehow, you push through it.

“I love you.” You confess, and the brightness in his eyes becomes unbearably pleasant.

He takes a deep breath and his chest swells with pride.

“All I want is a fair chance.” You bite your lip again and this time his Majesty leans in, thumb smoothing out the softness of your lip before he reaches back to hook his hand behind your head.

Your lungs are suddenly empty, and you inhale and hold it.

“May I?” He whispers against your mouth, the heat of his breath overwhelming.

You nod.

His Majesty presses his lips to yours and you whimper a little, unintentionally as his lips move against yours.

He devours you, a smattering of wet tongue and a soft kiss as he settles in between your legs while dropping down onto his knees to kneel more comfortably.

Your hand closes around the neck of his shirt, gripping it tightly as you cling for dear life.

His hands are wandering, moving away from your shoulders down to your waist and awfully close to your stomach.

The kiss is heated but because you have both been wanting it for so long. As he pulls back to tilt the other way, you lick your lips and sigh, finding his hands with yours.

“I’m pregnant.” You whisper, shocked yourself that it slipped out. “I…”

His Majesty pulls back a little, face suddenly pained as he stares into your eyes to see if you might be joking.

“Grandmother says that I am about four months along?” Your shoulders heave up and down as you try to catch your breath.

Your little revelation makes it harder to breathe because you’re nervous about his reaction.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I-I wasn’t sure whether you really wanted me.” You sigh, voice cracking a little in sorrow. “You’ve pushed me away, told me in so many ways that you don’t love me and I was afraid that if I told you that you would want me only because I was with child and I don’t want that.”

You smile at him tightly, on edge. “I want you to love me because you love me and not because I’m carrying your heir.”

His Majesty is silent, watching you with that same pained expression until he reaches up and cups the side of your face.

“If Thor touches you again, I’ll have him beheaded. I don’t care if it brings about war. If he looks at you with that wistful look again, I’ll scoop his eyes out with a spoon. He’s one of my closest friends, but if he ever tells me again how you taste like honey, I’ll slice his tongue out. This is how I feel.” His Majesty says. “You are mine. And I am yours. Before any children. Before any obligations or duties, if I don’t have you by my side, I don’t want this crown.”

You know you can only believe so much. If he had to fight for the Kingdom to save the people, he would, but you also understand what he’s saying. He kissed you before he knew you were pregnant. He loves you.

How much, you’re not sure. But he does love you. You smile.

“Do we have to have this feast tonight?” You wonder, reaching up to trace the lightly discoloration underneath his eyes.

He really does look very tired.

“Yes.” He tells you, rubbing your back with his large heated hands. “I have to correct other mistake that I’ve made with you that are not as personal and more politically driven.”

“What mistakes?” You wonder, still tracing the shape of his cheek.

He reaches up to take hold of that hand and pulls your fingers to his lips to kiss and just hold against his lips.

“There are rumors that I hate you.” He sighs. “Rumors that I don’t care about you. That you and I only married because it was my duty. Our duty.”

“Which is true.” You point out.

“Yes. But I do love you. You are my chosen Queen. And maybe things were different before, but I need them to know that you’re right where you should be.”

“Because I’m not really-?”

“You’re true royalty, Y/N. Never doubt it. I will show them that you are irreplaceable. That they’re wrong.” He assures you and presses a firm kiss to your palm.

“There’s something else you’re not telling me.” You frown.

His Majesty sighs.

Suddenly he brings both hands to your waist and then carefully begins to undo your robe. Your cheeks burn savagely, neck coursing with sudden heat. As he exposes your first layer, he undoes the second robe and moves that open too.

You sit before him, naked, with only the edge of the fabric shielding your breasts from full exposure.

His eyes are not on your nakedness however, but on your tummy.

He slides his hands into your robe, caressing the sides of that belly gently while also greedily taking in the feel of your freshy bathed skin.

“You smell good.” He says without thinking.

“I j-just bathed.” You remind him.

“While you were gone, we made a show of playing up an illness for you. The word was spread across the people that you were sick and that is why you had not been seen in weeks. Most believed it. Some didn’t.” He sighs.

He runs his thumbs along your side and though you might have once been focused on his words, the fact that he’s never touched you this way also keeps your brain from focusing.

“The meeting yesterday was about a resurgence of what is known as Hydra.”

You gasp, knowing the name. “They’re back?”

“And I think they’re the ones that attacked you the day you came home.” He nods, looking up to meet your eyes, speaks in a whisper. “We think that there are spies in my council. Trying to destroy my chances at keeping the kingdom. That’s why you’re in danger.”

He looks back down at your tummy and renews his caress.

“You and our little one.” He sighs, smiles, and then his expression darkens.

“This isn’t good news then?” You sigh too, reading the situation with new eyes and a fresh perspective.

He tears his eyes up to you and shakes his head. “This is the best news.”

He smiles.

“Please don’t let my need to contemplate every scenario darken this moment for you. I am so happy that you’re with child. I’m only sorry that I didn’t do my duties as your husband properly. I’ll make it up to you.” He runs his hands back to your lower back and halfway down your bum.

You gasp lightly, your body reacting to his touch again.

“I promise.” He smiles.

No, that’s a smirk.

“I wanted it to be you.” You confess, dropping your voice to a whisper in slight embarrassment. “When Thor kissed me. When he touched me.”

His Majesty’s brow furrows, and he growls as he pulls you closer, dragging the chair along the floor so that it groans loudly against the stone. You’re surprised by the pull and your hands hurry to his shoulders to cling in surprise.

“I swear I’ll kill him.” He says.

You shake your head. “He’s why I came back. If he hadn’t shown me that it could be good…that there might be a different way with you…I would have kept running.”

Your legs are spread around him, lifted up slightly so that your feet are hanging off the ground as your knees rest on the sides of his hips.

“I want to show you how good it can be.” He whispers, bringing his left hand down to your ankle to take hold of it possessively. “I was a fool. An idiot. A moron in denial.”

“You’re tired.” You realize as he closes his eyes in one quick blink, but they stay closed a bit too long.

“I have enough energy for you.” He swears.

“Your Majesty,” You chastise.

“Steve. Please, please. Call me, Steve.” He begs, leaning up to kiss your neck.

You shut your eyes; lips slightly parted as he pulls your leg up higher against the side of his hips.

“I c-can’t.” You gasp, breathless.

“I’m going to make you scream it.” He whispers into your ear and your body is red hot metal iron, heated until pliable.

As his tongue traces the shape of your ear, a heaviness begins to settle on your chest. Your lungs struggle to pull in a breath, and your heart is racing but not in excitement.

“No.”

And as if a sudden gust of wind has blown out his flame, his Majesty pulls back, hands move to your waist again, and he gives you a bit of space.

“No, I…I can’t.” You shake your head, disappointment flooding your chest as the fear and tightness there takes hold.

“I…” But you don’t need to go on.

“I’m sorry, my flower. Forgive me. I’m a little eager.” He says, his caressing hands trying to reassure you that you are safe.

“I-I’m eager too, I just…”

“I know it wasn’t good with me.” His Majesty suddenly says. “And our wedding night was—I will never forgive myself for what I did to you.”

“You’ve said that before.” You point out, feeling calmer by the second.

“And it will never stop being true. I did something unforgivable and somehow you’re able to love me still.” He reaches up to stroke your cheek.

“We love you.” You remind him, then reach for his hand and drag it down to your stomach. “Both of us.”

His Majesty is all smiles. As he continues to stare and as he feels your barely there bump, his eyes grow misty.

“Thank you.” He gushes. “For giving me this gift. For coming back home. For putting up with me.”

You nod. “Thank you for trying.”

He dives down to kiss your belly, nuzzling it with his nose as you slip your hands into his hair hesitantly.

Will he like the affection? You’re almost afraid to give it.

As your fingers card through his hair, he relaxes more and shuts his eyes.

“How much time do we have until the feast?” You wonder, looking towards the window at the day outside.

“Hours.” He says weakly.

“I’m tired.” You tell him, hoping that if all of this devotion is really true, he’ll try to make you feel better.

“You’re tired?” He worries, sitting back again to look at you.

“Yes. But I don’t want to part with you yet.” You admit. “Do you have anything to do this afternoon?”

“Nothing.” He says eagerly.

“Will you lay with me?” You hope he doesn’t see through your ruse and even if he does, that he’ll pretend not to.

“Yes!” He says, too eager. “Yes, of course.”

Carefully he helps you to your feet.

He’s just like Nat and Grandmother already, protective. Watchful.

You peel off the top robe, the thicker one, and set it aside then move towards your bed as you tie up the first, much thinner one.

Dry, it sways around you smoothly as you climb into bed and look for his Majesty.

He watches you from the foot of the bed, a look of concern on his face.

“The last time we were here I wasn’t-”

It’s true, you don’t have good memories with him in this bed, but you’re eager to change that.

“Come.” You tap his side of the bed. “I’m cold.”

Like someone has kicked his bottom, he springs forward to his side of the bed and climbs in quickly.

He lays down. Feet hanging off the bed.

With a frown you move over to them and undo his boots.

“I’ll do that.” He makes to sit up, but you push him back with surprising force.

You make quick work of his shoes and then lay beside him before you roll into the circle of his arms and press your hands against his chest.

He’s hesitant, his arms hovering around you loosely.

“Don’t you want to hold me?” You probe, eyes already shut.

Tight arms pull you close, leaving you in no doubt that he does indeed want to hold you.

It takes ten minutes of his hands gently stroking your back before they still and you peek to find him fast asleep, mouth slightly open.

You shut your own eyes and hope this isn’t a dream.

#king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve x you #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #medieval au #royal au #arranged marriage au #avengers x reader

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jamestrmtx · 3 years ago

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Twenty One | It's Showtime! (Part 3 of 3 | His POV)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

"Should I… Should I give up Frisk's custody?"

"What?"

Having that be the first thing the human asks when arriving at the Judgment Hall surprises him the right amount to make that 'what' come off as a shout. It resonates throughout the echoey room, giving rise to the noise and causing them to flinch and stop walking. At that, Sans sighs and excuses himself; strain arrives in his voice as he corrects himself with, "Why do you think that? Isn't the kid happy with you?"

They avoid his irises and stare at the newly laid-out benches around, these a product of the changes being made to the Underground, and ones they suggest sitting on while they talk. It's obvious they're stalling for time, so he doesn't speak and only follows them there. One glance at the bitter look in their eyes and the sheer uncertainty of their frown makes him stay that way -- waiting for them to act first. Not even the bright light that seeps into the room is enough to shake them out of their distant gaze. Their steps are soft and slow, barely causing an echo as they walk, vastly different from his own set of footsteps. Being any more cautious and quiet would mean they would disappear out of the room entirely. Were he not walking along with them, their presence would be hard to distinguish from the vast emptiness of the place. Even the benches don't suffice to fill out the space surrounding the Hall.

"I'm not sure anymore," they finally reply, tone as icy as their choice of words. He sits next to them and lays a hand over their knee, one he squeezes tight as a way of comforting them. "Toriel seems like someone better fit for that role, so if she holds the same feelings she had about adopting Frisk as she did the first time, then maybe… That's all for the best?" Their voice trembles, though they continue with, "What do you think, Sans?"

The monster pulls his hand back and lets their question simmer in his thoughts for a while.

"Do ya really wanna know?" he asks, meeting their gaze.

"...Yes." Their reply is as weak as the light in their eyes.

Again, Sans gives himself some time to think, needing that more than ever now that they hold him up to such a delicate question. He doesn't want to sugarcoat anything, but -- similarly -- he doesn't want to hurt them further than they already appear to be. A happy medium would be the best choice, though he doesn't know what that is, exactly. Truthfully, he was growing biased whenever it came to talking about them; he was besotted, no doubt, and -- if matters kept on this way -- he had to scold himself for letting his feelings conflict with his job. Seeing them blue was the last thing he wanted, but some things are easier said than done. If they required an honest answer, he had to deliver it. Masking faults wouldn't do any good, in the long run.

"I think you're a pretty wonderful parent. It's the overthinking and overprotective part that you've gotta work more on. Other than that, then you should take that promise you made seriously, so that you can improve and find more strength to avoid those doubts." His hands make their way to their waist as he brings them closer to him. He then sits them on his lap, smiles, and leans in, looking up with that same, yearning visage afterwards. "...And someone easy to love, despite that stuff." His desire to kiss them grows stronger by the second, yet he's aware it's best not to try that currently -- not now, of all times. The human was still healing; his wants could wait for their needs. "I like being around you -- with you. And while I know Tori's a good mother, you're a good parent, too. You deserve to keep being Frisk's parent, just as they deserve having a parent like you."

By all means, this has to be the riskiest move he's pulled so far, and with awful timing, too. He overlooked plenty of factors before placing them on his lap, and -- now -- he's beginning to consider if that's the best thing he could've done. Their hands have difficulty finding a safe area to land on without making him tense up, and the same goes for their sitting position, this one just as stiff as they try to get comfortable without doing the opposite to him. Still, they stay firm in place and smile back, something that doesn't last long when they say, "I've made too many mistakes, and I've... I've bothered way too many people. I can't even feel mad about arguing with Brenda without then feeling guilty seconds later, k- knowing she did so much to pull me out of that bog. I don't deserve to be forgiven." Their hands press against his chest and grab tight onto his shirt, squeezing at the fabric to tug him closer against them. "It's not right."

The monster tries to catch another look at them, though the human refuses by looking down, gaze cast on their lap. "That's on the people you've hurt. You don't get to decide whether you deserve their forgiveness. Or do ya?"

Their hold on him roughens. "Of course not."

"Then why think that? What makes you think Frisk doesn't like you -- or Brenda? Or pretty much... anyone else?"

Sans gets even closer, leading them to press a hand against his shoulder in a weak attempt at gaining that space back.

They look at him afterwards, eyes focused on his teeth. "Do you want to ki-"

He does that before they can even finish with their sentence.

The reminder he's yet to adjust to physical contact dawns on him when he kisses them.

His pulse skyrockets, and it's a challenge not to grow dizzy by his own actions. His hands lay awkwardly on their lap, but he tries to explore elsewhere to prevent that, making him end up holding their lower back. The warmth and softness of their body is a grand contrast from his, something he can feel to be more pronounced when his hand strays to their waist, pudginess felt sharply against the roughness of his touch. He's lost track of how long the kiss has lasted, yet -- right as he's thinking about ending it -- they return it with twice as much fervour, tongue slipping into the space left between his parted teeth. Clumsy movements turn clumsier as he wonders what to do now that they're going beyond a quick and simple kiss, though he doesn't push them away. His soul fastens and he can hear their heartbeat with how close he is against them, the sole obstacle to keep him distanced being the reminder this is the last action he'll get for a while; if again, at all.

He shouldn't be doing this, and while his mind has that thought on repeat, he wants more.

"Doin' mouth-to-mouth again, are we?" an infamous voice comments, this one heard from close by. "Didn't know getting so touchy-feely and tongue-heavy was part of the process."

They get off his lap and stand up; their actions are immediate, even more so than his own. A guarded, almost wary look overcomes all the hard-earned calm they expressed before. Not an ounce of reluctance stays in their posture, and -- in comparison -- they appear plenty more defiant than anything else.

"You've fought all the way here, just to surrender now?"

Sans almost believes he's said that himself with how similar that voice is to his; it's rough and booming, and it arrives from the door of Asgore's old garden.

"This was all one cheap ruse, wasn't it? You never really were angry with any of the monsters, were you?" the same voice asks, his figure emerging from the door. "You've 'fought' with people like Toriel just to make yourself seem like you actually give a shit about your child, but you don't care at all." It's the same man from the bus; a small but no less weak army stands behind him, allowing him to act more confident than before. "If you did, I'm sure as hell you wouldn't be kissing a complicit in murder. You just want to hand the kid over to the first idiot you see and be done with them."

"Hey, bud," Sans says, standing up. "Watch it."

He takes a few steps forward until settling in the middle of the hall, preventing those by the door from getting any closer. "We came here for some quiet n' privacy," he then adds, zeroing his gaze on the man. "So please leave, so I can talk with 'em."

"You should watch what you say," one of the crowd says, stepping from behind the man. "Just what do you mean by 'privacy', exactly? Gonna get it on with that human? Though you were doing that just now, and you've done that before, too -- It makes no sense for you to want any 'privacy' now."

"I don't think I need to explain why me giving 'em CPR and me kissing 'em are two vastly different things." The skeleton continues to get closer, noticing the crowd's doing the same. "And I mean privacy, as in: what we need to talk about 'ere ain't none of your business," he states, gaze narrowing at the woman. "Leave us alone."

"As if we'll let you go," a different man says, joining the woman's side. "You might have (L/N) fooled with your 'feelings', but we're aware of the truth, and we refuse to let whatever this is keep going. Whatever cheap sob-story you told them to try justifying your actions won't work on us."

He glances back to the human when noticing they've grown quiet. They're still standing near the bench, though they soon face the crowd and say, "If you have a problem with that, you can talk to me directly. He has nothing to do with this." Then, they glare at the man, who remains unfazed even as they walk forward. "He's-"

Thud.

The sound follows right after he shields the human from the object hurled at them.

It rests in his hand, large, oval, and porous -- one of Asgore's heaviest garden rocks.

"Stop that."

Thud.

Three are thrown at the same time. Two Sans catches with ease, though one slips right past him and ends up hitting his company with a loud thunk. Worry over them being hurt fades when he looks to their side and sees they've caught the rock in their hand, creating a bruise in their palm -- one they hide in their pocket after shaking the pain away.

"Leave us alo-"

A crash follows before the third thud, leaving shattered glass by the opposite spot to where the man and his crew stand at. Shoes aid with not being cut by the shards as he gives his back to the crowd and inspects the source of destruction, though it's made clear the thud's come from another rock, this one the human didn't turn out successful in avoiding. Blood drips from the side of their face down to their neck, while the rock lays stained by the floor. Regardless, they say nothing and cover the wounded area with a piece of cloth they retrieve from their belongings. The cold look from before returns, but with ire and distaste -- all of that directed at the crowd rather than their own self.

"Say something," the man from the bus says, words aimed at (Y/N), who stays quiet all the while. "The hell's wrong with you?"

"Ditto." they state, lips straight and eyes dull. "You have no business being here. This is-"

"Then your Halloween-edition boyfriend has no business living up there, either."

"That's not what I meant." They approach the monster's side and stay close to him. "This place is dangerous. The walls are cracking, the ceilings are crumbling, and the floors are giving in. The only reason why the Underground isn't available to you is 'cuz it's being made a safer place for you to be in."

"Then why are you here, of all people?"

"I'm here to learn the truth before I decide what to do with Frisk's custody."

Sans tries to stay one step ahead of them, remaining wary over any other attacks. The man glares at him, though the greater part of his attention resides on (Y/N). Still, he nods at one of his companions to keep an eye on him, reminding the monster he hasn't yet forgotten about him.

"So why did you ask about giving up their custody?"

"Because I know I'm not adept enough to raise them with my current state of health. They deserve better."

Anger strikes in the man's eyes. He clasps his hands into fists and clenches his jaw. What keeps him from getting any closer is seeing Sans do the same.

"So you call Toriel better?" the man questions, words spat.

Something unknown ignites in the skeleton's soul, and while he assumes it's because two people he thought fondly of were being spoken ill of, the strength of that feeling makes him believe there's more to it than that.

"Asks the man who threw a rock at (Y/N)," he intervenes, against biting back his tongue.

Sans takes their hand and helps them sit back down on the bench, though he keeps an iris on the crowd and a thick shield around the human.

When finished, he stares back at the man and adds, "You have a minute to wrap things up and leave this place -- before I call for backup."

"Can't fight us alone, skelly?"

"I don't intend to."

He holds the human up in his arms and takes them to the first location he thinks of, all while ignoring those who try to challenge him as he teleports them out of the Judgment Hall.

• • •

"Are you and (L/N) safe? Please give them my deepest apologies. Truth be told, it has been rather difficult to communicate more often, now that my... jail sentence has doubled."

He rests his back against the wall, slumps, and closes his eye sockets for a moment.

"I'm fine," Sans replies, toying with the strings of his jacket. "They got hit by a rock, but other than that…" He glances at his bed, where they lay at as they hold an ice pack to their wound. They give him a quick thumbs-up, allowing him to continue with, "They're okay."

Asgore breathes out a sigh in what he can only assume to be relief. "Be sure to mention my name, if they ever require medical care."

"Got it. See ya later, old man."

"Farewell, Sans."

He sets his phone down and stares at it, gaze blank as he contemplates the situation.

(Y/N)'s question clings to his mind no matter how much he tries to convince himself they're fine.

If someone so devoted to their role as a parent had a thought as wild as that one, then what was keeping them from holding themself back?

What was keeping them from giving up the one thing they found a purpose in?

And if they hadn't brought it up, what would happen then?

"What did he-" The human interrupts themself with an 'ow' when they try to stand up. "What did he say?"

The monster sits next to them by the edge of the bed and leans in, using one hand to hold their cheek while the other keeps him stable -- hovered over their body. "Don't stress about that now," he says, voice quiet. "Just relax."

They smile and keep their cheek in his hand, though theirs places itself over his as they rub their thumb against it. "Worried?"

"It's the third time you've fallen ill in less than a year." He chuckles. "What do you think?"

"I think you need to join me in bed, then." They brush his hand away and extend their arms out -- as if waiting for a hug. "C'mere, babe."

He approaches them without dither, though he's careful not to be rough as he lowers some more and embraces them. Their arms grab his waist and lay him on the little space remaining next to them. The space he lacks they make up for by bringing him close -- enough for him to hear their heartbeat, along with each breath they take. "So are you still going by that agreement letter? Or did you really just bodyguard me?"

"Bodyguard?"

"Don't judge my word choice." They grin. "I'm dizzy and tired." A curious glint reaches their gaze when pulling their attention away from him to look around his room. "You're almost done moving, aren't you? The place looks empty."

"It's better now that you're here, though."

"You never miss an opportunity to do that, don't you?"

He winks. "That's about the last thing I wanna do when I'm around you."

They roll their eyes, only to then grab him by the shoulders and pull him closer. Their breath is overwhelmingly minty, revealing they've just about chewed the entire box of gum he'd seen them take out of their bag. Thankfully, it seems to have worked to some extent, as they don't seem as weak as they did when first arriving at his room. The mint's strength is what's keeping them awake and fighting the nausea shown after escaping through the use of his magic. "Are you really fine?" they ask, smile still there; it weakens, however, and they appear to recall something, confirmed with, "A- And God, I'm sorry. You said you weren't comfortable with making out, and I doubt you mentioned anything beyond kissing on the cheek, too, right? And yet, I… I went ahead and-"

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I did something you clearly stated you didn't like before."

Sans pokes at their nose with his index finger, gaining an annoyed huff from their part. "And that was around two whole months ago," he says, grinning. "I barely knew much about my feelings back then, but now I understand them a lil' better, and… And what I'm comfortable with, also."

They don't humour him. On the contrary, they grab his finger and soon his entire hand as they force it into a fist. "But it's still important enough for me to remind myself of it." Finally, they push it away and lour. "You don't need to do any of this." Their forehead wrinkles and their body stiffens. "I was in the wrong-"

"For asking me if I wanted to kiss you? I was the one who cut you off mid-question for that."

He stands up and helps them do the same.

"Let's calm down for a moment and think this through."

The skeleton then places his hands over their thighs and looks up at them. "I'm still figuring myself out, but one thing's for sure: I like you. Even if I don't exactly know to what extent those feelings go, what I'm willing to do, and what I'm not, I like you, and I want to explore these feelings with you." They nod and stay silent as he adds, "The one who punched me at the bar -- that friend I told you about -- they had a crush on me for a long time, but I never really was one to care much for that kinda stuff. Then there's the occasional, rare crush I had on other people, but… It was always hard for me to distinguish whether those feelings were romantic or not." He stops to assess their expression and sees intrigue in their eyes. "I was more guarded at the time, since I still had that job at the Hall, and that involved me being a hell lot more distant than I am these days. But now that I've got more freedom to live and just, well… be, I've been able to figure things out about myself -- like how much I enjoy even the thought of having you by my side."

When something cold falls on his hand, he looks up at them to see tears in their eyes.

"Were you that worried about this, puddin'?" He can't contain a laugh when he sees them shed more tears after being asked that question.

They nod and press their lips tight together, holding themself back. "I don't want to screw this up. I… I like you, too, and it feels like… like I overstepped a lot of boundaries for a minute there."

"A kiss that you asked me about first?"

"But then I returned it and did things I wasn't supposed to."

"Did you actually ever ask me if I liked it or not?"

"Well, uh… No."

Sans takes their hand and brings it against where his soul can be felt beating.

"I was, frankly... overwhelmed, but it didn't feel gross or anything like that. And I didn't feel a need to stop or tell you to, regardless." He feels his face burn, and he's sure there has to be some evidence that his face is turning red, yet he doesn't hold back. "Did you forget what we went to the Hall originally for?" His smile widens. "Or did you forget to keep yourself in mind again?"

"It was to talk about my dream from earlier."

"But you still ended up talkin' about Frisk instead. And then I sat you on my lap and kissed you." He then brings their hand to his cheekbone. "Sounds selfish when I put it that way, doesn't it?"

They don't answer and choose to hide their face away against his chest. "Maybe? I… I wanted to kiss you, too, though."

"I did it knowing that dream you had was related to me -- and in a negative way, to boot."

Their hand lets go of his cheekbone and goes to place itself close to where they rest their face at.

"So let's plan something," he adds, holding their back. "Once we're done signing Frisk up in Tori's school, and once you settle things out with your job… We go on another date like the one we had at that hotel, and from there on, we can talk about that dream for real. You'll avoid bringing up stuff that's not directly related to your situation, while I'll avoid my urge to kiss you."

They let out a laugh. "Tell me more."

Sans complies with a grin. "So if everything's sorted out better by then, we can celebrate that accomplishment by having our actual first date -- but at my new place."

"You sure want me to visit you, huh?" they ask, smiling. "Is there… Is there maybe something important you want to tell me, teddy bear?"

He chuckles, winks, and pulls them closer with an arm around their shoulders. "You've read right through me, puddin'."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

IMPORTANT NOTICE

**TL;DR near the end of it**

Sans's (assumed) age (mentioned in Chapter Two) will be bumped from 22 to 29 to better fit his character and overall personality, as well as to complement the passage of time in both this story and its spin-off more adequately (more on that can be found on the author note in Chapter One of said spin-off).

The Reader's/you're meant to represent someone younger who's still learning how to live life and how to overcome slips ups and screw ups. Sans being 4 years older helps portray not only his character as someone who used to engage in science better, but to make the difference in knowledge and wisdom more evident between both the reader/you and him. So basically, if you've played Stardew Valley -- for example -- he'd be around the same age as maybe Harvey, Elliot, or Shane, since they're the most... mature-seeming of the bachelor bunch. Sam and Alex come off more as late teens, while Sebastian is more accurate to describe the age I once gave Sans in this story (don't quote me 100% on this topic, though -- I married Emily in the game and I'm pretty awful when it comes to comprehending videogame lore). A more obvious reason is that Sans seems more mentally sound despite the roughness of his circumstances in the game, something that can be hard to achieve if you struggle with mental health.

**TL;DR: Sans's age has been bumped up a few years to better fit his character and the plot of both stories.**

This was something an Ao3 reader brought up recently, too, so they essentially inspired me to finally make these changes! Please, help me.

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

@disastrous-l0vebug

@therealchickenjoe

@mintyflakes025

@pandaquick

@timelock97

@candle-creeps

@paperb9gs

@merak0

#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I saw your post about you taking requests, and I would like to request prompt 4 en 15 from the grumpy affectionates prompts for light fingers if you want to 😊 in case you haven’t noticed, I really like them 😍

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get to. I got about 2/3 of the way through writing a version of it and then decided I hated it and started over. Hope you enjoy the new version! (Also I slightly changed the wording of 15 to feel more natural/fit better in the story.) Word Count: 1596 Content Warnings: alcohol reference, jealousy

It was one of the rare date nights where Diego actually wanted to go out, so despite being tired from a long week at work and content to just cuddle, you agreed. Pulling out all the stops, you’d gotten dolled up and let him guide you through the city. First, was dinner out at a nice restaurant, classier than you usually bothered with but well worth waiting in a queue for. Then he had suggested continuing the night with dancing, out at a place you knew of that combined ballroom and more typical club styles to create an eclectic, exciting and ever changing affair.

You knew Diego knew how to dance, and had seen him do so on several occasions, usually with you around the apartment, but tonight he was in rare form. There wasn’t a single song he didn’t want to move to, and no matter what the music suggested, he wanted to hold you close for all of it.

You were no slouch, but he made it a challenge of endurance to keep up with him.

A soft, romantic tune hummed from the overhead speakers and gratefully you slowed to a gentle sway with him, your arms around his neck and his on your waist. Staring into his warm brown eyes that reflected back the club lights beautifully, you felt a sort of bliss settle over you. You had always thought you weren’t meant for “peace,” and had always told yourself that love like your parents had wasn’t meant to find you, because it was easier that way, safer to protect yourself from heartbreak. And yet, here you were, enjoying exactly that. This thing between you and Diego was real and solid and staying and you saw it all in the way he gazed down at you.

Suddenly the song ended, transitioning into a rapidfire tango, and whatever moment of contemplation you were having was lost into the steps.

“Diego,” you said, leaning up to call directly into his ear over the music when the song finally wound down. “I’m gonna take a break, just sit out for a sec, alright?”

He frowned, looking worried or like he was about to protest. But then he nodded, kissing you quickly and letting you go. You smiled at him as you wound your way to the sidelines and he watched from the dancefloor.

Trying to catch your breath, you leaned against the bar, turning to look out at the crowd, sweeping over it to see how Diego handled your absence. Before you spotted him though, something cool tapped against your arm, and you whipped around to find the pretty bartender smiling at you with an outstretched glass of ice water.

“Oh I didn’t order…” you started before she shook her head.

“No, but I saw you out there tearing up the place,” she smiled. “So I figured you could use a drink, and water’s the only thing I’m allowed to give on the house.”

You laughed, accepting the drink gratefully and taking a long swallow, the cool liquid instantly soothing you.

“Your man there, he’s pretty...intense.”

“What?” you frowned, trying to pick up on her meaning. “Diego just doesn’t know how to do things in halves.” You shrugged, used to your husband’s quirks.

“Does that include jealousy?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him jealous actually. Why?”

“Just checking if I should sleep with one eye open or if that glare’s all bark and no bite.”

You followed her gaze, turning back around to spot Diego, leaning against a wall, arms crossed and watching intensely. You grimaced. Jealousy wasn’t his style, but overprotectiveness definitely was. Even at a distance, you could tell he didn’t trust the bartender and was bothered by your chatting with her.

“I’ll talk to him and make sure he knows you were just being friendly.”

“Was I?” she raised an eyebrow and smirked at you, causing you to sputter and nearly choke on another sip of water.

Carefully regaining your composure you smiled. “Well I’m flattered, but…”

“Don’t sweat it,” she grinned, waving aside your comment, “I don’t need an answer or reciprocation. It was just a bit of harmless fun with someone pretty to liven up the boring work night.”

“I should probably get back over there,” you said lamely, and she nodded.

Emptying the rest of your glass, you offered her one last smile over your shoulder as you dodged through the club to Diego’s side. As soon as you were in range, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you so that your back was flush to his chest and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“I missed you,” he whispered against your skin, following his words with feather-light kisses.

You laughed, twisting out of his grasp to take his hands and tug him back toward the dance floor. “I was gone for less than five minutes.”

“I know,” he sighed, pulling you close again, hands falling to your hips. “But I always miss you. Especially when you look so pretty, no, gorgeous.”

His head fell to your shoulder again, face pressing into you.

“Why were you flirting with the bartender?” he asked suddenly.

“I was being friendly.” The pair of you spun around the dancefloor with the others, moving swiftly to the song.

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, hair tickling your cheek. “That wasn’t just friendly.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No! Why would you assume I was? Because I don’t like my wife flirting with other people?”

“No, because you’re acting really strangely.”

“I’m not acting strangely.”

He stepped back so that instead of dancing, you were squaring off. Several of the people around you noticed, stopping their own movements to stare at you.

“What do you call this behavior then? Getting all cuddly and affectionate in public is not your style Diego, and neither is accusing me of flirting with someone else.”

“Well, I’ve been subtle at hinting that I want your attention all night and you haven’t noticed once! So what if I got a little pissed and more forward?”

“You’ve had my attention all night! I don’t understand!”

“Not all of it. You’ve been distracted and not really present.”

Your scowl deepened, crossing your arms across your chest. Maybe he was right that you were thinking a lot tonight, but he had no right to demand that you didn’t. And it wasn’t like you were thinking of someone else, or something else even. All your thoughts had been about Diego in some way or another. Who did he think he was, to yell at you like this?

“Now you’re annoyed with me,” he stated, voice a little softer.

“Obviously.”

His expression softened and he stepped closer. They weren’t quite puppy-dog eyes he was giving you, but they were pretty close, and you could already feel your resolve cracking. But you were determined to be annoyed. You bit the inside of your cheek.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, one hand coming up to rest on your elbow, face fully a smolder now.

You felt yourself melting at his touch. The rest of the crowd had faded into faint background buzz.

“STOP BEING SO CUTE, IT’S NOT FAIR!” you blurted out. “I’m trying to still be mad at you.”

“But why?”

“Because you were being jealous and grouchy and I don’t appreciate it when you get that way.”

He nodded in understanding. “If you promise to stop being mad, I’ll make it up to you. Any way you want.”

You couldn’t help the smile that cracked your face at the offer, and the way his lower rumble was suggestive of what he meant.

“Just shut up and dance with me,” you murmured, stepping fully back into his embrace. “No more jealousy or weirdness. And tell me if you feel like I’m ignoring you.”

“Okay, I will. I promise.”

“Good, then I’ll think about forgiving you.”

He laughed, twirling you in his arms. And just like that, all the tension, all the weirdness melted away as if it had never been.

Well into the early morning the pair of you danced, stumbling home on aching feet just as the first birds began to chirp and stir around you.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” you said, leaning exhaustedly against him as you fumbled with the building’s finicky front door.

“What are you sorry for?” he gently took the key from your hand and opened the door himself. “I was the one not communicating.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t have to shout at you in the middle of everyone like that.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. And you said I was cute.” He smirked teasingly at you before taking you by the hand and leading you up the narrow stair.

You rolled your eyes, sticking your tongue out at his back and squeezing his hand gently.

“Of course that was your take away,” you muttered as he opened the apartment door next.

“Next time—” he started but you shook your head.

“I don’t want there to be a next time. I just want us to talk.”

“Okay. And I’ll try. I’m just...still not used to someone who wants to hear me say things.”

“I know.” You wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace that he returned in seconds. “Are we good, though. For real? No jealousy, no bitterness about confronting you?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

You smiled, dropping onto the bed to tug off your shoes with a sigh of relief.

“Good. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#thank you for the request #I hope I did cute but annoying well #and also I just kinda used it as an excuse to show more of their...communication struggles a bit #but all's well that ends fluffy #Diego Hargreeves x reader #Light Fingers #moments in between #The Umbrella Academy fic

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wtf-yoongi · 5 years ago

Text

“Let me play you what I have.”

pairing | yoongi x reader

summary | yoongi asks for your help with a song

genre/warnings | you’re both musicians (even though you don’t work in the music industry) so musician fluff i guess?

words | 1,648

note | i’m not even kidding at this point i think i’m in love with yoongi and i’ve never been more serious in the entirety of my life

“Mine was never this glamorous,” you joke as you stare into the high ceilings of the ground floor of the building. “This place is gigantic.”

“Well, it is fancy and over the top,” Yoongi agrees and shrugs as if he’s 100% indifferent to it all. “But this is just to impress visitors.”

You look around, trying to take in as much as you can while you follow Yoongi to the elevator area. Everything seems to be made of either glass or marble – well, the best glass and marble money can buy. The attention to detail is remarkable and you can’t help but agree with Yoongi: this is a little bit over the top.

“I thought you had seen this the last time you were here.” He looks at you now, taking turns between staring at your face and your hands. You can’t do it here where the walls are made of glass even if he’s wearing a cap and a mask, but you know his fingers are twitching.

“Not really,” you correct him and shake your head lightly. “First time I was here was before the tour. You gave me a ride and we took the elevator straight from the garage.”

“Oh…” Yoongi nods. He remembers now. “I should have showed you the place that day, sorry. We were in a rush.”

There’s a soft sound, signaling one of the elevators has finally arrived. Yoongi impatiently taps his right foot on the ground like he just wants the doors to open faster. You know he’s a little apprehensive from the moment he calls you to come around earlier, but you didn’t think you’d find him like this.

You just want to calm him down somehow.

As soon as you’re safe inside the elevator with the doors closed, you extend your hand to him and his fingers stop fidgeting immediately to take yours. “You didn’t have to come greet me downstairs,” you comment casually, but there’s gratitude in your eyes.

“I know, I wanted to,” he says, taking his mask off and putting it in his pocket with his free hand. “And I needed to get out of the studio a little bit.”

“Something wrong?”

“Just a song that won’t come together, the usual,” he mocks and smiles to the ground. “This one is going to be stubborn, I just know it. I’ve been playing with this idea for days now and I don’t think I have a full verse yet.”

Yoongi’s voice is tired and passionate at the same time. Even if he’s complaining about it, you know he likes this sort of struggle to accomplish something he’s happy and satisfied with – the reward may be as grand as the effort. He’s always hoping for that. Artists are always hoping for that, you know it all too well.

“I was actually hoping you’d help me, if you don’t mind.”

He brings it up quietly and casually, but when you turn your face to him he’s not looking directly at you, deciding to keep his stare into the ground. He isn’t exactly comfortable with that idea and doesn’t know if it’ll work, but he’s happy to try.

You’ve talked about doing something together, working on lyrics or melodies or whatever came to mind, but never put much thought into it. Like that old group of friends who keep on saying you should meet sometime, but never actually do. You’re not mad if it never happens, somethings aren’t supposed to happen anyway.

Yoongi finally raises his head after he doesn’t hear it from you for a while, eyes expecting a positive reply so he doesn’t have to pretend that never happened somehow. Inside his mind, he’s already thinking about ways he can make it less awkward.

“That’s why you asked me to come?” You ask in a curious tone.

“Well, yeah,” Yoongi laughs lightly and presses his left hand to the back of his neck, scratching it a bit in a nervous habit. “It’s ok if you don’t want to, though. It’d be good to just hang around and do nothing as well, I’m just waiting for some papers I have to sign and we can go somewhere if you want. It’s probably good to give the song some time as well, since…”

“We can try something, yeah,” you interrupt before he runs out of air. “I’m a little rusty, though, I don’t really know if I’ll be able to help with anything.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Yoongi shakes his head and his hand follows. “I want you to listen and give me your opinion, that’s already enough for me. And I highly doubt it.”

You don’t have time to question him what the last part is about. As if on queue, you arrive on the 21st floor and it’s really not as fancy as the lobby, just like you remember, but you can see someone was still thoughtful enough to add fresh flowers to the vase in the corner. The people in charge of running the building are not sleeping on the job.

Yoongi is silently dragging you around the corridors and you can see the directions on the wall, but not for long enough to make any sense of them. A dozen more steps and you both stop in front of a door, Yoongi quickly tapping the keyboard on the right. There’s a beep before it opens.

He reaches inside to turn on the lights, but ultimately lets you in first. The room looks just like the last time, simple and straightforward in furniture and color, but not in music equipment. You can see he upgraded the digital piano to one that looked more like a real one, but still plugged to the wall. Maybe it makes him feel better knowing it’s a little similar to the real deal?

“New piano?”

“Yeah,” he assents, closing the door behind him. “These keys feel a little better, you know?”

Yes, you know. You can always tell when the keys just feel better under your fingertips. Playing becomes easier, practicing technique feels less like a pain. You nod.

“Let me play you what I have.”

You sit on the couch in one corner while Yoongi sits on his own chair, moving his magic mouse to light up the screen in front of him. You can see there are many layers on top of one another, but definitely not as many as you would expect coming from him.

You’ve seen him working from home well past midnight, shirt half dressed with headphones on, keeping quiet so he doesn’t notice you behind him. Making music is intricate, but Yoongi likes it even worse, adding one thing on top of the other, filter after filter, until it feels like it’s too much and he can finally recognize what is standing out in a bad way. Then he mutes and saves the ones he likes for another time.

He makes some quick adjustments before pressing the spacebar, turning slightly so he can see your reaction. The beat you hear is nothing out of the ordinary – it’s a 4/4 time signature major key song, exactly how most happy pop ones go.

However, in true Yoongi style, there’s something else to it. The bass line tricks your head into some sort of rhythm and, despite having the poppiest of beats, you can hear an acoustic guitar streaming in the very background, almost unnoticeable. More bars pass and you can now hear a piano playing some sort of arpeggio – simple, but effective. It grows into what you feel is a chorus and then Yoongi is hitting the spacebar again.

“That’s all I have,” he confesses and shrugs, looking at you from under his eyelashes and trying to figure out your puzzled expression.

“It’s good, I like it,” you start and he’s soon looking at you incredulously, waiting for the real response. “Yeah, it needs work, but you made it sound like you had nothing.”

You’re both chuckling softly now and Yoongi lets his body fall into the chair completely, covering his face with his hands.

“Tell me what I have to do!” He begs with a muffled voice. “I hate this song already.”

All of a sudden, you feel like you should have done this earlier. His busy schedule kind of gets in the way all the time, but not really all the time. You wish any of you had enough courage to bring this up earlier, to stop being that group of friends that say things with no real weight to them.

Musicians are sometimes overprotective of their work or scared to stick their noses into somebody else’s, but Yoongi falls into his normal self too fast – too comfortable, no sign of nervousness anymore. He’s not scared to show you his unfinished and imperfect work. It feels like you’ve been doing this for ages.

“I told you I’m a bit rusty, I…”

“Oh, don’t say that,” he interrupts with a smile, letting his hands show his face again. “You’re a classically trained pianist, 15-plus years of music classes under your belt, three years of being a trainee with top marks in songwriting. You can’t say you’re rusty when I hear you playing my piano at home. You’re not. At all,” he emphasizes as you continue to laugh at his reaction.

“Yeah, but I have almost zero experience in music production. And I also gave up being an idol so…” You try to argue, but he’s not having any of it.

“I bet you my new piano you have at least 13 ideas for this, I just feel like you do.”

There’s a smirk on his face now you can’t resist.

“Where are the lyrics you wrote for this?” You ask and Yoongi soon hands you a notepad with many lines scribbled on the first page. “Can you hand me that pen?”