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erodasfishtacos · 3 years ago

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Acting Up (mini blurb)

thanks sm to Sarah who generously donated to my ko fi. she requested a blurb about mlbrry going to get ice cream as a family so here you go! with a little harry in DAD mode.

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It was a hot night and the kids were a bit stir-crazy, so was eight-month pregnant YN in the house while Harry had been traveling to play.

“Mama, what’d y’want?” Harry murmurs, hand rubbing her bump as they wait with one hand as he has Ezra propped on his hip on the other side.

“Everything sounds so good,” She groans as she looks over the menu, pregnancy hunger was a real thing.

Her bump was bigger than any of her other pregnancy and she was quite miserable - though trying to make the best out of it.

“I’ll buy y’the whole menu,” Her husband replies as he reviews the menu board in front of them as well.

“Then I’ll be as big as house,” YN quips, hands running through Cash’s curly locks as he hugs her leg

“Just more f’me to love on,” He hums happily, moving to grope her bum a bit until she smacks his off with an eye roll.

He sees out of the corner of his eye his oldest taunting his middle child with goofy faces.

“Easton, enough,” Harry scolds as he sees Cash’s eyebrows furrow as he gets frustrated with his older brother.

Six and four - what an age.

The oldest stops at the firm tone of his father, huffing and giving his brother a dirty look before moving to stand next to his dad.

When they arrive at the order window, a teenage boy steps over to greet them, his mouth drops open as he sees who it is.

“Y-you’re Harry S-Styles,” The kid stutters, his face flushing red and his eyes wide as he stares at the celebrity.

Harry smiles kindly with a chuckle, “I am. Are you fan? Pleasure to meet you.”

“Daddy, why does he know your name?” Cash asked in confusion as he peeks around his father’s leg.

“‘cause he plays babeball, stupid,” Easton replies with an attitude towards his brother.

“Mama!” Cash shrieks offendly.

YN sighs, cupping Harry’s hand on her belly for moment, “Order me a banana split with peanut butter and extra strawberry. I’m going to go talk to East.”

YN pulls Easton to an empty table with enough room for the five of them and also to accommodate her belly.

“Why are you picking on your brother?” YN uses her mom mode voice as she watches her son pout out his lip.

“He stole my dolphin stuffie earlier!”

Of course.

“Is that the proper way to treat him though?” YN questions directly, tilting his chin up so she can make eye contact.

“No mama,” Easton mumbles, struggling to keep his mother’s gaze.

“Will you say sorry to him when he comes over?” YN encourages.

He agrees, lisps out an apology before Harry hands him a bowl of chocolate ice cream with rainbow sprinkles.

After a few minutes, YN winces and stands from the table, a hand going to rest of her back.

“What’s wrong, mama?” Harry asks with concern laced in his tone. He was currently feeding Ezra little bits of strawberry that was dripping down his chin.

“Just my back is achey, I’m just going to stand and eat,” She grumbles, shifting her weight side-to-side as she takes small bites of her banana split.

“Stop it!” Easton whines when Cash sticks his finger into his older brothers bowl and submerges it in his ice cream.

“Cash,” Harry states, reaching for his middle son’s arm “Get y’hand out of your brother’s food, right now.”

Cash listens but snickers when he realizes he’s managed to annoy Easton.

When Harry looks back to his wife, he then hears Cash shouting, “No!”

The parents look back to see Easton with chocolate ice cream as his nice white shirt and Cash with a sticky hand of melted dessert.

“Cash!” YN scolds on frustration, they were really usually good with each other but today was not their day.

She sits down her food to rustled through the diaper bag for wipes. She cleans off Cash’s hands with a pointed stare as Harry reaches over to clean up Easton.

“You’re done,” Harry tells Cash firmly, picking up his son’s bowl that he hadn’t finished and dumping it in the garbage. “Y’don’t get ice cream if y’just goin’ to throw it.”

That sends the middle one into a meltdown and it makes it even worse when Easton taunts, “No more for you!”

It has Cash standing up and darting around the table but Easton sees him and gets up to bolt away from his grasps.

“Stop running right now,” Harry raises his voice, groaning when Ezra starts to whimper at the chaos and holds on to Harry tighter.

“Boys! Listen to your fa-“

Easton darts around his mother but Cash isn’t as agile yet and knocks right into the front of her calves causing her banana split to drop out of her hands and for her to stumble.

“Baby!” Harry panics, instantly moving forward to grab her arm and pulls her towards him so she tumbles into his chest instead of backwards.

“Oh my god,” YN whimpers, her breathing becoming quicker as her heart rate spikes from the scare, hands coming to her bump.

The boys are frozen still were they’re at. Eyes wide and tears welling at the fear their mother got hurt by them

“Mama, y’alright? Sweetheart, I know Y’got scared. Breathe for me,” Harry soothes more worried about his wife than scolding his kids.

“If I would have fallen,” YN is tearing up, anxiety spiking through her chest at the thought of the baby getting hurt.

Harry is breathing heavier than he’d like to admit too.

“Don’t cry, s’okay. The baby is perfect, y’keeing them so nice and safe, bein’ a perfect mama,” He assures her, kissing her temple and brushing away a tear.

Ezra is distressed too, of course the sensitive little boy is, chanting, “mommy, mommy, mommy.”

She clears her throat, smiling softly at her youngest boy, “M’okay, Ezzie. It’s all okay.”

“Mama, hold me,” Ezra begs, reaching out his arms to be switched to his mother but Harry holds him tight and shakes his head ‘no.’

“Not right now baby. Mommy doesn’t feel very good,” YN tells him, chest still pounding, back still aching.

And when their youngest starts sobbing, screaming that he wants his mother, well...YN starts feel overwhelmed by her two olders ones who are whimpering because they know they’re in trouble and Ezra tantruming.

“Sweetheart,” Harry can tell by the tears bubbling up along her waterline what’s going on, “Baby, y’okay. What do y’need?”

YN sucks in a deep breath, gathering her thoughts for a moment, “I just need a minute alone. You can have Easton and Ezra finish their ice cream. Then come after you’re done.”

“I can do that,” Harry replies sadly, he couldn’t stand seeing his wife upset or scared - it was one of the worst feelings for him.

When YN grabs the car keys and leaves towards the car, Ezra settles as soon as he’s being fed ice cream again. The boys hesitantly go back to their seats across from their dad.

Harry knows they’re young. They don’t understand what it would mean if they knocked their heavily pregnant mother over but it doesn’t mean aggravation isn’t running through him at the two.

“Daddy...” Easton sniffles cautiously, kicking his feet under the table as his chest shutters.

“Yes?” Harry answers calmly, looking up from Ezra to meet his son’s gaze - the same green eyes staring back at him.

“Do you and mommy hate us?” His oldest asks as he wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand.

“No, mama and I love you two with all our hearts. But daddy is very upset with you two right now, do you understand why?”

They both nod in agreement that they do.

“Why are we upset?” Harry prompts as he takes a wet wipe to rubs over Ezra’s strawberry stained face.

“Cause we made mommy almost fall,” Cash lisps shamefully.

Harry nods, “And we tell you very often that we have to be careful with mama because she’s got a baby in her belly and we have t’keep the baby safe.”

“Are we in trouble?” Easton voice is still quiver with his guilt.

“I’ll have t’talk to y’mom but if it happens again, y’both are goin’ to be in a lot of trouble and y’gonna get a consequence. Do you understand that too?”

They nod in unison. Easton hadn’t touched his ice cream again, gets up to throw it away as he loiters - looking towards the car where his mother is sitting away from them.

Cash gets up to but slowly walks around the table to his father.

“M’sorry daddy,” He squeaks tearfully, moving forward and digging his face into Harry’s bicep.

“Cash,” Harry soothes, grasps his son lightly under the chin, “I love you very much, okay? We just can’t do things like that. Y’need to listen to daddy and mama.”

He nods in understanding before crawling up into his father’s lap, right next to Ezra - who gives him an affronted glare when he realizes he has to share space with him.

When they’re done and Harry has let enough time past, he walks the little group of boys toward their SUV.

He opens the passenger side door where YN is reclined a bit, hand on her stomach and the air-conditioner blasting cold air on her face.

“The boys have somethin’ t’say,” Harry smiles softly, leaning over to give his wife a quick kiss.

“M’sorry mama,” Cash whispers.

“Me too, mommy,” Easton adds on.

“I forgive you both. You just have to be careful with me. You’re sibling is in here and we have to keep them nice and healthy, right? I love you two more than anything.”

#mlb!harry #mlbrry #mlb!Harry blurbs #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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Rough Ride | biker!Chris Evans x reader

summary: for a biker, chris is quite the romantic. for a small-town waitress, you’re quite the rebel for falling for a biker.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: smut!!, biker gang shenanigans, references to smoking, love at first sight, a touch of possessiveness, vaguely soulmate au?? (because of aforementioned love at first sight), kinda innocent reader, shy reader, essentially a very fluffy pwp

The gang had never really scared you, even if the other girls working here were intimidated by them. In your mind, having a motorcycle club frequent your hole-in-the-wall meant being more protected rather than more vulnerable. Most of them were nice enough, even if their glances were less than subtle and they brought in the smell of cigarettes with them. They tipped well, and what matters other than that?

When you saw Chris for the first time, though, you were intimidated. Maybe that wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t him that scared you at all, but the rush of feelings that overcame you. What scared you was knowing that, as absurd as it was, you were in love.

He sat at your table, as if he knew you’d be serving him, spreading his legs as he got comfortable and draping a leather jacketed arm over the worn pleather booth. You’d tried to keep your cool, taking his order in spite of those crystal blue eyes piercing right through you. Ink decorated his skin, peeking out from every edge of his clothing— unreadable words on his neck, abstract shapes on his wrists and hands, letters on his knuckles. You watched from the kitchen as those tattooed fingers wrapped around the mug of coffee you’d served him, his neck tattoo shifting a little as he took a long sip.

“Do y’all want anything to eat?” you asked quietly, waiting for a chance to hear his voice. His buddies answered first, ordering hashbrowns and bacon and their various usuals. With no one else left to ask, your eyes met his and you waited in tense silence for him to say something.

“You got pancakes?”

How stupid that those were the words that made your heart stop, slurred with a Boston accent, monotone to the point it barely sounded like a question.

You were in love with him. Before now you hadn’t been the type to dream about soulmates, to wait for your Prince Charming to come save you. But this guy had a noble steed you could ride off into the sunset with— except it was a Ducati, and sunset wasn’t for another nine hours…

“Hello?” he frowned.

Oh, had you forgotten to actually say something?

“Y-yes,” you finally blurted out, “we’ve got pancakes. Best in the county.”

“Blueberry?”

You nodded quickly. “Or cinnamon, or banana, or original…”

“Blueberry then,” he decided. “Thanks.”

You shuffled to the back, spinning behind the saloon door into the kitchen and leaning against the wall with a sigh. It was a miracle you remembered any of the other orders, since all you could think about was him and his eyes and his voice and those ridiculously lovely tats.

You passed the order on to the cook, taking off the apron part of your uniform so you could try to cool off for a second, only peering out to check that the table didn’t need anything every few minutes. As much as you wanted to hide away in the kitchen forever, you could see that a few of the mugs were empty at his table and you needed to give them a refill.

Sighing and grabbing a fresh pot from the coffeemaker, you ventured back into the dining area; of course it only took him a split second to lock his eyes on you, watching you come closer with a stare that made the silence so much more oppressive.

“Everything alright so far?” you asked, voice much shakier than you meant for it to be. One of the other bikers asked about getting a cup of decaf, another wanted more creamer, but he just sipped at the black coffee and kept his eyes trained on you over the rim on the mug. “Food should be out in a minute…”

You all but ran back to the kitchen; you could only take so much of him at once. Looking at him was like looking at the sun, and looking anywhere else was like a waste of your vision.

You made busywork for yourself in the kitchen, rearranging utensils and refilling ketchup bottles. You heard the kitchen door swing open behind you, the light shifting in the corner of your eye.

“Charlene, can you cover my table for a while? I can’t go back out there—” you began, but heavy footsteps stopping behind you made you realize it was most certainly not Charlene. You spun around to find him staring down at you, contemplating the way you shrunk into his shadow.

“Were you really gonna run so quick? Make Charlene bring me my pancakes?” he asked with a gentle voice, stepping slightly closer.

“You’re not supposed to be back here,” you explained sheepishly.

“I heard we own this place,” he returned, raising an eyebrow, “and everything in it.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “something like that…”

Then he moved in so close— almost too close, even though you simultaneously wanted more— until you were clutching the cool metal table behind you, your eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips and back.

“Tell me something, sweetheart,” he whispered, “do you believe in love at first sight?”

“I’m starting to,” you admitted quietly. And he kissed you, so much more delicate and tender than he had any right to be. Maybe you should’ve feigned disinterest, but not even for a moment could you do anything but kiss him back, slipping your arms around his neck. But that wasn’t enough to keep him close, unfortunately, as he pulled away much too soon.

“How about now?” he pressed, and your eyes were a little delayed in opening again as you tried to process the fact that you’d just experienced the most perfect kiss of all time.

You nodded a little, looking back up at him and biting your lip slightly. “You never told me your name,” you realized.

“Chris,” he answered quickly. You started to tell him yours but he finished it for you, making your eyes go wide.

“How did you—?”

He smirked and tapped on the hard plastic nametag pinned to your chest.

“Oh,” you giggled, “right…”

He leaned in a little closer, one arm caging you in as it rested against the wall by your head, while the other was playing with the hem of your yellow uniform. “When do you get off?” he purred in your ear, his fingers brushing over your legs just under your skirt.

“Whenever you want me to get off,” you answered quickly, not even noticing the double entendre.

“Right now,” he decided. “Your shift ends right now, and you’re gonna get on the back of my bike and ride with me.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

You stood a few feet away on the gravel while he started the engine, enraptured at the way his fingers gripped the handles and pumped the gas and brakes to test them. When he guided you to get on the back, you tried not to notice the way the vibrations of the bike shot right through you, and just focused on his face as he turned back to look at you.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Your place.”

He chuckled lightly but revved the engine, kicking off and sending the bike spurring forward onto the highway. You clutched at his torso tightly, resting your face on the leather of his jacket and watching your tiny little town roll by.

Normally this would be the time to describe his apartment, but you didn’t even notice it; you were too busy grabbing him by his jacket and pulling him into you the second he’d unlocked the door. You’d never kissed anyone like this, or ever tried to, or ever wanted to, so you didn’t know if you were doing it right. But he sure seemed to like it considering he pressed against you and moaned a little into your mouth.

Maybe it was all a game for him, his chance to corrupt an innocent waitress who bought his crap because she was gullible enough to believe he loved her. You knew that was more likely than not, you weren’t stupid for all your naivete, but you couldn’t really bring yourself to believe it. It felt so real, the way he pulled you closer, the way he kissed you— it didn’t feel like he was rushing you, since you were the one who helped him take his jacket off before you started to unbutton your uniform, and pushed him back onto the mattress on the floor, straddling him as you moaned into his mouth.

“Baby,” he whispered against your lips, something like shock mixed with pride painting the tone of his voice.

“I need you,” you whimpered, “I’ve never— I don’t usually— this isn’t—”

“It’s okay,” he nodded, “I get it. I’ve never felt this way before either.”

He pushed your hands away from their task of opening the uniform, his thick and ink-decorated fingers taking over instead. Your face warmed as he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, revealing your practical bra— not very sexy, unfortunately, but he didn’t seem to mind as he ran his hands all over your newly-exposed skin.

Not that you would’ve been especially irritated if it took him a minute to unhook your bra, but of course he did it seamlessly. Faster than when you tried to do it yourself, even.

His palms were warm as they cupped your breasts, your nipples already hard but reacting further to being tweaked between his thumb and forefingers. A shiver danced down your spine, and you fought between looking back into his piercing gaze or glancing away to spare yourself the intensity of it all. You stammered out his name when he pinched a little harder, almost losing your balance but catching yourself on his chest.

He stopped and sat up to quickly pull his shirt off, and you bit your lip at the sight of his chest and torso littered in ink. You wanted to trace each one with your tongue, but that would have to wait for another time; instantly he pushed you off of him and flipped you onto your back, caging you in with his absurdly thick arms and grinning as he hovered above you.

“You are so goddamn beautiful,” he mumbled, “did you know that?”

You stammered, never really getting out an effective reply, as he reached down and toyed with the hem of your panties. His fingers tickled your skin while he started to pull them down, excruciatingly slow; his eyes bore into yours for the longest time, dark and brooding, until he finally glanced down and watched the fabric slide over your thighs.

With bated breath, you waited for his reaction to your nude body. He was silent as he pushed your legs apart, finally letting out a low growl as he spread your folds. “Fuck, baby…” he sighed just under his breath.

The moment his fingers made contact with your soaked folds, you gasped; he gathered the abundant slick he found there and spread it over your clit, drawing relaxed circles over it as you fought not to buck your hips up already. That was impossible, though, when he slipped a finger into your soaking entrance, and then another.

“Oh—” you gasped, sitting up to watch him work as if you couldn’t really believe it was happening otherwise.

Watching his tattoos disappear inside you was… indescribable. Your head fell back as those fingers curled inside you, his thumb rubbing over your clit roughly. “Fuck,” you groaned, “Chris, don’t stop…”

He didn’t, in fact he only pumped and twisted his fingers faster until you clutched at the sheets beneath you and arched your back. You couldn’t exactly keep track of what you were saying, or how long it had been going, but you were pretty sure that you were doing lots of begging and that it had not been long enough to justify the fact that you were already right on the edge of coming. When his fingers moved a little faster and a little rougher, you moaned his name before you could stop yourself.

“Yeah, you gonna make a mess all over my hand, baby?” he growled through his teeth.

“Yes,” you sobbed, “yes, I’m so close.”

“Then do it,” he encouraged gruffly, “come for me.”

You must have reached up and grabbed him at some point, because your nails were digging into his shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark if it weren’t for the marks already there— hard to see a bruise on black ink. Hard to see anything when you’re coming so hard that your vision goes a little spotty. If you had realized the intensity of your involuntary convulsions in that moment, you would’ve likely been self-conscious about it, but you didn’t really notice since you were too busy gasping and moaning and writhing for him— and he didn’t even stop until you reached down and grabbed his wrist. You weren’t strong enough to push him away, of course, but it was a clear signal, and he thankfully slowed down to a stop. You whimpered a little when he pulled his fingers out of you; he hummed as he brought the digits to his lips and sucked your flavor from them.

Any other day and one orgasm would satisfy you, especially one like that. And in a sense, you were satisfied; but in another (and stronger) sense, you needed more— you needed everything. You just hoped that sitting up and fumbling with his belt would get the point across.

He didn’t help you this time, happy to sit there breathing heavily and watching you work on his belt, then his fly, then his boxers until you were gasping as you revealed his thick cock. Maybe it was just going to go straight to his ego, but you had no interest in hiding your shock at the sight of it, a drop of precum forming at the slit; a picturesque vein running up the underside. “Fuck,” you groaned, wrapping your hand around it and giving it a few slow strokes.

You yelped a little, in a good way, as he pushed you back onto the bed and kissed you deeply: it was needy, but not quite rough.

When the tip of him prodded at your entrance, you gasped against his lips, and yet you were still a little disappointed when he broke the kiss and pulled away, his eyes rapidly scanning your expression.

“You want it?” he asked— not a taunt, a genuine question.

“Yes,” you nodded, “more than anything.”

“This isn’t a fling,” he told you sternly. “This isn’t a one-night stand. We do this, you’re mine, you understand?”

“Yours,” you agreed with a breathless nod, and he finally pushed the tip into you. He stopped when you winced, but you didn’t mind the sting so much— you wanted to feel everything, even the pain, as long as it was him. You wrapped your legs around his hips and tried to push him in deeper, but he resisted. “I want it all, please,” you begged weakly.

“Not sure you can take it,” he admitted nervously.

“I can, please, just need you inside me,” you whined.

He sighed a little but relented and pushed all the way in, still maintaining a measured pace; you sighed with relief when his hips were flush against yours. The sting was nothing compared to the perfection of his body nestled in yours, the way he looked down at you before he kissed you again. It was less rushed than before, less desperate as he savored every inch of you, like you had all the time in the world— it certainly felt like you did.

He didn’t pull out very far, focusing instead on grinding his hips against yours, which not only served to keep him so deep inside you that you could barely breathe but also pressed some very hard part of him right into your clit. It was nearly overwhelming, but his kiss kept you grounded, along with his arms slipping under you so he could hold you tight. You clutched at his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, kissing him back and moaning against his tongue. It helped you relax a little, until your body opened up to his size and he could thrust a bit harder without resistance. Even then, he kept it slow and steady, waiting until you whined and pleaded for more to start really fucking you.

You couldn’t keep up with the kiss anymore when he pounded into you like that, your head falling back and giving him perfect access to gently bite at your neck. It only made you wetter to imagine that while he wore his tattoos on his neck, you could bare whatever marks he made on your skin with his lips and teeth and tongue. Too bad yours would be less permanent.

“How’s it feel?” he asked you darkly, his voice rough but warm against your ear.

“So good,” you panted, “you feel so good.”

He reached down to grab your parted legs and hold them open wider, and you hadn’t realized that it would send the tip of him spearing straight into your most delicate spot. Your back arched instantly and you made a somewhat embarrassing noise, but he grinned and nibbled at your jaw, thrusting a little faster and repeating the motion.

“F-fuck,” you shuddered.

“You’re— shit, you’re squeezin’ on me,” he groaned, and you took pride in the way pleasure affected his voice. “Can feel you tryin’ to milk my cock.”

Lewd talk like that had never turned you on so much before, but it was different the way he said it. Then again, everything was different when he did it, especially the way his fingertips were sure to leave little bruises on your legs from how tight he was holding.

“Look down,” he instructed as he sat up slightly, “look at how good you’re takin’ me, baby.”

You did, and sure enough, it was hard to believe that every time he pulled back, his massive cock was somehow going to fit back inside you again— or that it ever did in the first place. But with every stroke he filled you to the brim, and when you looked back up, he was already staring down at you with those damn eyes that kept you frozen in place every time.

He pulled out suddenly, making you whimper at the loss as he stared down at you. “Flip over, get on your hands and knees for me.”

You surprised yourself with how quickly you obeyed, arching your back as his rough hands gripped at your hips tightly. When he pulled you back and speared you on his cock, it was like an entirely new sensation. His cock was even deeper, stretching your walls in new ways as you keened and whimpered beneath him.

“How’s that feel, baby?” he groaned, already setting a new and much more aggressive pace.

“So good,” you cried, “it’s so good, you’re so good…”

“You like how I fuck you?” he pressed, like your mouth hung slack and your hands struggling to hold onto the mattress weren’t enough to make it obvious that you did.

“Love it,” you moaned, “please, don’t stop.”

And he didn’t, thankfully, not even close; he held your body and pulled you back onto him in time with his own thrusts forward, the sound of skin on skin rivalled only by your constant stream of moans and cries.

Another orgasm was well on its way, though this one felt different than the first— coming on slower but stronger, making your legs shake as they fought to hold you up your weight.

When the coil finally snapped, you didn’t feel the need to tell him you were coming again, because it was so obvious from the way you moaned and how your walls rippled and tightened on him harder than ever. And just in case it wasn’t clear that he noticed you hitting the height of your pleasure, he leaned down a little and mumbled right against your ear: “Feels so good when you come for me, baby.”

You whimpered and let your upper body collapse onto the bed; the dramatic arch in your back was slightly uncomfortable, but your orgasm had made your whole body a little numb so you didn’t notice.

“Want you to come too,” you sighed, desperate to make him feel even a fraction as good as he’d made you feel.

“Fuck, I will,” he warned you, “god, you feel so good, gonna come inside you.”

“Please,” you sighed, “want it all in me, Chris, please…”

He followed through on his promise with a stuttered gasp, stopping his thrusts to stay buried deep in you as you felt his cock swell and flex against your walls. Warmth spread within you as you hummed contentedly, his heavy breathing slowly stabilizing before he gently pulled out and guided you to lay beside him on the bed.

For a moment, you feared that he’d gotten what he wanted and would either toss you out or just slowly disappear from your life. After all, he was him, and you were you, and there was something oil-and-water about it all, right?

Wrong. He wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you into him, and kissed you one more time. You reciprocated quickly and tried not to smile too hard.

“If I say something really stupid,” he whispered when he pulled back slightly. “will you promise not to freak out? I mean, I know it’s impossible and it doesn’t make any sense and we just met but—”

“I love you too,” you interrupted, and he smiled back at you, letting out a sigh of bemused relief.

“Bein’ a biker’s girl isn’t easy,” he warned you, “but I’ll keep you safe, I can promise that.”

His words were just that; words. But the way he held you tightly and kissed you deeply made you sure that he would keep his promise.

#chris evans x reader #chris evans rpf #chris evans biker au #biker!chris evans x reader #chris evans smut

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ardent-musings · 4 years ago

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“With Sprinkles on Top”

Neville Longbottom Smut

based off this request right here

Alright, another Neville smut for the plant daddy supremacy i feel like i’m a part of. But that’s fun for me. Nev deserves it.

EVERYONE IN THIS STORY IS OF LEGAL AGE AND CONSENTING

Warnings: NSFW 18+, dom!neville, swearing, fingering, degrading, oral sex fem receiving, spitting, use of food.

Vanilla. Was the flavor of ice cream you and Neville were eating after hours in the school kitchens. It was your one-year anniversary and it was your boyfriend’s idea to sneak in to enjoy a “date” together since your Hogsmeade weekend was too far away for the both of you. So instead, the ice cream cones and banana split between you were going to have to do.

It was a wonderful night filled with sprinkles and brain freezes, lots of laughs were shared between you and your terribly sweet boyfriend.

“Are you going to finish that?” He asked, pointing to the already melted sundae on the table. The banana was demolished by you two and all that was left in the bowl was liquid ice cream and remnants of chocolate syrup.

“It’s all yours babe,” you giggled as you licked at your cone.

Neville grabbed the sundae boat, holding it up to his face to drip the ice cream into his mouth. Unfortunately, your dear boy underestimated the amount he could handle and he sputtered as a bit of the ice cream overflowed and dribbled down his chin.

“Shit!” He giggled as he tried his best to keep the dessert off his sweater. Neville’s face flushed red as he turned to reach for some napkins.

You caught how cute he looked all flustered and decided to take advantage of the mess in front of you. His tiny stubble at the base of his jaw scraped against your fingertips as your gripped him gently before directing his gaze to you. Before he had time to question your move, you leaned in close and teasingly licked the sweetness from the base of his neck, leaving tiny nibbles.

Neville gasped in surprise as your lips continued to lick a path up his throat and over his chin, the mixture of rich chocolate and sweet cream made you giggle and playfully moan. If you lingered on his neck you bet you could’ve felt his pulse beneath your tongue. And by the time your tongue made it past his chin, Neville was panting lightly and holding on to your hips. With his grip on you, parting from him was not an option so you placed a soft kiss against his lips.

Surprisingly, Neville threaded his fingers into the hair at the base of your scalp, making sure you couldn’t escape the intensity of his kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, finding yourself getting lost in the sickeningly sweet taste of him.

“You”

Kiss

“Taste”

Kiss

“So fucking good,” you moaned between his desperate kisses, the whole situation left you breathless.

“You do, too, love,” he hummed. His fingers gripped your hair harder, making you mewl and slump against his body which was firm beneath his soft sweater. “But that was fucking naughty of you to do. Don’t you think?”

You couldn’t help but smile knowingly at the darkness his hazel brown eyes took; he looked like a man starved. Neville was always insatiable when he got like this: so overcome with his own need.

The pressure at your hips disappeared; although, so did the ice cream cone you were still nursing. Neville took the treat, dipped his finger into it and dragged the cold digit down your neck. The cold sensation made you cry out in surprise, but Neville’s warm tongue dragged across your skin, mimicking the move you just enacted on him.

“That was a bad idea, flower,” he groaned against you, his clean hand began unbuttoning the top of your shirt, leaving your bit of cleavage to become the latest victim of the cold dessert. “On the table, now.”

Your skin crawled at the commanding tone, finding it hard to combat, so you did as he instructed without complaint. As soon as your bum hit the wood, he grabbed your ankles so you were right at the edge. His hands were needy, hastily removing your shirt, only to take your ice cream and drip a stream of the vanilla down from your neck, in between your boobs, and down your stomach.

“Such a fucking tease,” his lips sucked hard at the base of your neck, leaving the pocket of skin flushed and sore, “But you love it. You love making me absolutely wild for you. Pretty little slut.”

His words made you whimper, but his tongue trailed between the valley of your tits as he suckled and licked the ice cream all the way to the band of your skirt. He wasted no time and flipped the short skirt up so your soaked panties were on full display.

“Think you deserve my tongue on your clit, darling?” His fingers dug into your jaw, making you face his stern yet pretty face. Neville was always so pretty, no matter what mood he was in.

“Yes, please,” you whined as he started grinding his palm against your already aching clit through your panties. “Please Neville.”

“Keep begging for me, needy thing you are. You really want me to finger fuck your pussy in the kitchens?”

You started blubbering your pleas, just hoping he would do more than suck at the skin that pooled above your bra, or the dip near your hips. He would giggle every time you shook from his lips, but you couldn’t help it. You just needed more of whatever he was willing to give.

“Please,” you whispered on last time with a pout while lacing your hands through his wavy dark hair.

He looked up from between your legs to smile softly, then took a wide lick at your soaked panties with his gaze still on you. Neville wasted no time fully diving into you, but the thin bit of fabric was dulling the feeling, making you grind into his mouth. He chuckled against you, leaving you to arch your back and pull his neck so he was impossibly close to your dripping pussy.

“Want more of my tongue? Want my fingers, sweet little slut?”

You nodded and cried, surprised to find a tear fall down from the corner of your eye. That was Neville’s downfall. He ripped your panties off of you unceremoniously and flicked your clit with perfect pressure with his skilled tongue. His licks alone could get you off, but Neville was determined to make you cry again, so he used two fingers to massage the most sensitive parts of you. Every part of your body screamed and leaned into his touch; your shoulder blades ached from arching off the hard wooden table.

But you couldn’t deny how good Neville fucked you with nothing but his mouth and fingers. It was torturous, fast paced thrusts and rhythmic circles around your bundle of nerves. Your eyes clenched as did your cunt around his talented fingers. The burning knot in your stomach was building, and you knew you wouldn’t be lasting much longer.

“M’close, baby,” you mewled while gripping and pulling on his hair.

To your dismay, he took his mouth of your clit, but it wasn’t left alone as he brought his other hand to circle the sweet spot while pressing down on your lower stomach. The pressure made the pounding of his fingers even more perfect, making you moan loudly as another tear fell.

“God, darling, I can feel my fingers in your tummy. You like getting fucked like a little plaything, don’t you?”

You nodded as a reflex, you would agree to anything Neville had to say at the moment; he had full control.

“Play with those tits, baby. Touch yourself for me,” he commanded before kissing the side of your knee while his fingers still fucked you into oblivion.

Of course, you followed his orders; you groped and massaged your breasts over your lacy pink bra and imagined they were his hands instead of your own. With your eyes closed, you could pretend that Neville had his hold on every part of your body. That alone brought you to the edge.

“C’mon, baby. Fuck your pussy is squeezing my fingers so hard. Wished it was my cock getting sucked in like that,” his fingers struggled to move as you clenched hard around him. “On the count of three, you’re going to cum for me. If you don’t you’re not cumming at all. Understand?”

His tone and words contrasted with the toothy grin that spread across his flushed face. Neville’s chin was dripping with your arousal, making him lick at his lips. You nodded yet again.

“One.”

Your legs were shaking with how good Neville was making you feel.

“Two.”

He growled at your sweaty figure, laughing at your flushed chest.

“Three. Cum now.”

And you did. Neville continued to pump into you as you screamed and thrashed on the table, hardly able to breathe. Your head was absolutely spinning as Neville pulled his fingers out of you and sucking them into his mouth.

He leaned over you and grabbed your throat with a gentle grip, “Open up, darling.”

You opened your mouth and he ducked down to spit into your mouth, it was surprising. But you were even more surprised to find the cocktail of your cum, his saliva, and the vanilla ice cream tasted positively dirty yet sweet.

He smiled and kissed the side of your lips, peppering them all over your face.

“Neville, that was amazing,” you sighed tired.

“Well, don’t get too excited, princess. You’re still getting fucked.”

#neville longbottom #neville longbottom smut #anon request #anon requests #plant daddy supremacy

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chrisevansluv · 3 years ago

Note

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

#chris evans #cevans #Details Magazine #2012 #interview

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bedforddanes75 · 1 month ago

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i guess im on my richard branson wave no virgin but i know just how to behave i could be a good girl buxom milkmaid or you could drive me down to florida and fuck me for days

#this verse is insane dude #like INSANE #cant fucking blame her id write this too if i could #I WANT A WHITE DRESS COUNTRYSIDE HOUSE AND KIDS #hes got my legs wide out like banana split 😁😁😁#good fucking lord #charli xcx

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wardenannie · 3 years ago

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Warning for drug use (Marijuana). Also NSFW so be warned!!

All sensation is more defined when she's high. More definite. Pristine, even. As though with every touch, taste, or smell she is communing with some great other. It's enough to make Hange wonder why she doesn't do this more often?

Then her partner passes her the bowl, and she forgets the thought entirely as she inhales a smooth, watermelon-flavored puff of smoke.

"C'mere," Levi orders before she exhales, smoke filling up her lungs. He pulls her into an open mouthed kiss, and she exhales into his mouth instinctively as her tongue drags along his.

His lips are soft, warm and pliant under hers. He tastes like weed.

Levi pulls away and exhales a white trail of smoke. Hange rests the bowl on the arm of the couch.

These nights. These rare, beautiful summer nights; carefree, without responsibility, they follow a distinct pattern.

Hange wets her lips with her tongue and leans across the couch, prodding Levi in the arm with her finger. He's much more relaxed when he's high, he isn't even trying to take out her trash or vacuum her carpets.

"How did Connie get his hands on this watermelon stuff?" She asks, her voice funny in her own ears.

Levi hums thoughtfully, "As if I'd know. The brat has his hookups, has ever since he was a student."

"Don't remind me that I'm contributing to the delinquency of a former pupil!" Hange laughs, and laughs, and laughs until there are tears in her eyes. It's just that funny, and she can tell by the way that Levi is smirking that he agrees.

"Wanna order a pizza?" She asks once she calms down. She's crawled halfway onto his body, lips brushing along the smooth, pale column of his throat. Hange is always like this after they smoke, practically attached to Levi by the hip. It's because of how warm he is, how warm he makes her insides feel... how warm he makes her feel there.

"Munchies?" Levi asks, long fingers trailing down her arm. His eyes are already sparking with carnal hunger. It's enough to make Hange shiver and reach for the bowl again. There's still some pot left in it, and she doesn't intend to waste any.

She hums in affirmation. This time he doesn't coax her into shotgunning him as he pulls his phone from his pocket. She still exhales in his face just to see his expression.

High Levi hardly seems annoyed. Hange likes high Levi. She kisses the sharp corner of his jaw and whispers in his ear, "I want you to fuck me before the pizza gets here."

Levi's nostrils flare, face tinted red by the glare of the Pizza Hut app. That's out of order. Normally they eat, smoke until their heads are spinning, then fuck each other silly.

Hange's fingertips trail down his clothed chest to his crotch. His cock is obvious, already pressing against his fly.

"Can you do that for me, Heichou." The nickname is an inside joke within the staff of the school. They all call Levi, the head custodian, Captain.

Levi swallows thickly, eyes refocusing on his phone as he works out their order with one hand. The other is caressing along her ass, then over her hip to the hem of her leggings. There he presses several teasing fingers past her panties, feeling how wet she already is for him.

"Olives?" He asks, nonchalant.

Hange gasps, eyelids fluttering. She feels so hot already, flustered. Her head is beginning to spin. Maybe from the weed... more likely from Levi's deft fingers teasing the folds of her pussy.

"Y-yes," she pants. "And-

"Banana peppers," he hums, voice low and rumbling through his chest. "Got it."

He presses a large red button prompt then drops his phone onto the arm of the couch, turning his full attention onto Hange.

Hange laughs again, quavering this time as Levi's index finger settles over her clit, "You know me so well."

Levi only hums in answer, carefully removing his hand from her leggings as he snatches up the bowl and lighter.

"Hey," Hange whines lazily as he pushes her back onto the couch.

This time he shotguns her, probing her mouth with his tongue as she inhales the fruity smoke. She hums into the kiss, winding her arms around the back of his neck to keep him close.

"Let go," he whines softly softly they part in a watermelon flavored cloud. "I'm too high to undress all-sexy."

She let's go and he hastily yanks his shirt over his head, revealing the lean, muscular expanse of his torso.

"You're always sexy," Hange sits up and removes her own t-shirt and bra, tossing them away, forgotten in from of her TV.

"We've got twenty minutes," Levi says as he works down the fly of his pants and shucks them off along with his boxers. His cock bounces free, and Hange can't help be wonder at how pretty it is. How could a penis be so nice to look at? All hard and ruddy, veined and leaking precum from the tip. She wants to kiss it, but as she peels off her leggings it's obvious that Levi has other ideas.

"It's okay to go fast," Hange entreats, eyes hooded and sultry. "We can go slow later, when there's more time."

Levi grunts in agreement and wraps his arms around Hange's thighs, pulling her bottom flush to his crotch. The thick shaft of his cock settles nicely between the swollen lips of her cunt, and she bucks against it with a needy moan.

"Want you to fuck me," she pleads. She can feel the high tingling in her fingertips, and she wants nothing more than for Levi to split her wide so she can feel his cock, too.

Levi ducks over her, breath hot on her breasts as he angles the fat head of himself against her opening. He swipes it there for a moment, gathering up her wetness.

"Want another hit before I-

"No," Hange kicks her legs slightly, sidling closer to his dick. "Please, Levi, just put it in. Wanna feel it in my throat."

With that Levi's skintone deepens with flush, and he presses into her in one, easy movement, seating himself to the hilt. They both gasp. Levi throws his head as her walls clench and adjust around him. Hange's eyes roll as he fills her up to the brim.

It's a magical feeling on any day, to have Levi inside of her, thrusting into with powerful, narrow hips. But there's something exceptionally sublime about fucking her lover while she's high. The world around them seems to bend at the tide of their lovemaking, warping around them as time slows and she savors each pulse of him inside her.

Her ankles lock at the small of his back and her nails rake over his shoulders as he begins to thrust. Hange, ever the active lover, reciprocates his movements by fucking her hips up and onto him. Their flesh smacks wetly and their moans fill up the tiny space of her apartment.

Levi's fingers are adept at finding her clit, and he begins to circle it roughly while still gripping her thigh with his off hand. She's already eager to see what sort of bruises he'll leave for her to find tomorrow.

"Good?" He pants, lurching forward to kiss her. He tastes like watermelon, weed, and true love, she thinks.

When they part she nodded furiously, "S-so fucking good. Harder."

Her nails dig into his shoulder as he begins to snap his hips in brutal thrusts. The carnal cacophony of their fucking rings like a symphony in Hange's drug addled ears. His fingers work more insistently at her clit as his body goes taut as a bowstring.

"'M coming," she whimpers as her cunt spams and her muscles go tight. She moans her way through it, shutting her eyes and savoring Levi's continued minstrations. Fluid drips around Levi's cock and onto the couch. She doesn't mind, he always makes sure to work the stains out of her furniture.

As she comes down her whole body relaxes, limbs going limp as she looks up at Levi through blurry vision. His face is red, cheeks puffed slightly, both hands now gripping her hips with bruising force as he pounds into her with everything he has.

"Come in me," Hange whispers in encouragement, reaching up and cupping his cheek with such out-of-place tenderness. She feels his dick swell and pulse inside of her, "You're so close, Heichou."

At the sound of his nickname on her lips, Levi's hips stutter and he gives a few more staggered thrusts before planting himself deep and coming with a throaty moan.

Hange kisses his face through it, peppering his cheeks and forhead and nose as he fills her up. Her fingers tangle into his hair, and when he finishes and slides out of her she pulls him into a kiss.

Just then there is a knock on the door, and a disturbingly familiar voice calls out, "Pizza for Ackerman?"

"Shit," Levi goes bolt upright, reaching frantically for his pants.

"Is that Eren?" Hange asks, horrified.

The pizza boy knocks again, more insistently this time.

"Damn. I forgot, Mikasa told me he got a job delivering pizzas," he buttons his fly and tugs on his shirt with frightening speed. Hange remains naked and lounging on the sofa.

"Don't tell him that I'm here," Hange cautions, already reaching for the bowl and lighter. "And try not to act high!"

Levi rolls his eyes, headed for the door, "He's going to be able to smell it."

Hange exhales a long column of smoke, their mixed fluids are leaking out of her and onto the cushions, "Well, at least we'll have pizza."

#drug mention #tw drugs #levihan #my writing

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wonderlustlucas · 4 years ago

Text

jack pot ; part 1 - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt You know it’s bad when you’re high as a kite and he’s still on your mind. ⇢ pairing hwang hyunjin x female reader, seo changbin x female reader for like 2 minutes ⇢ word count 7.5k ⇢ genre fluff, angst (not heavy, just in a slow burn kind of way), slight smut ⇢ warnings drug use!!! & lots of it (marijuana), grinding, implied smut ⇢ summary College is a matter of working hard and playing hard. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, to grow as an individual and to blossom with those you befriend. People come and people go, leaving their mark on your life and showing you all the parts of becoming an adult. Some, however, do more than leave their mark. Some take just as much as they give. Things become complicated once they take the entirety of your love because you outright offered it to them.—college!au ; stoner!au ; friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n yo!!! disclaimer: this initially was going to just be a long one shot but i decided to split it up into 3 parts, so just to let u all know part 1 & 2 does not have a ton of hyunjin interaction, they’re more character/plot building. part 3 is when things will get spicy ♥︎ i hope u enjoy! if u rb make sure to let me know what u thought in the tags mwah also i finally switched from ___ to yn are u guys proud of me :)

prelude.

Sometimes you really, truly, honestly think you could go right ahead and kill Han Jisung.

You say it all the time. Sometimes it’s a simple, “I will literally kill you,” or when you are feeling extra spicy, “Sleep with one eye open tonight.” He, of course, laughs it off like you aren’t vibrating with the urge to kick his kneecaps in. You seriously have lost count of all the times he has brought you to the brink of insanity.

And honestly, you have watched enough murder documentaries on Netflix that you probably could do it, but, you know, spending the rest of your life in prison does not sound that appealing. Plus, there’s the ever-troubling detail that Han Jisung is the closest thing you have to a best friend. So, it sort of goes against your basic human morals to backstab—literally—the most important human in your life.

But he really makes you crazy. Why you agreed to share an apartment with him in the first place is a mystery, but the fact that you leased it again for junior year is what really makes you lose sleep at night. Because, while he may be your best friend, Jisung is the epitome of a little shit. If such a compound word was in the dictionary, it simply would say ‘Han Jisung.’ Somehow, though, it makes you love him even more. Maybe it’s true that ‘opposites attract,’ or, perhaps, maybe it’s because no matter how much embarrassment and general self-loathing he may have caused you in the past, it has benefitted you in the end.

For example, his constant teasing about your lack of friends eventually led to you befriending a group of girls you always admired from afar. His snarky comments concerning your nonexistent social life finally got to you and now you can proudly wear the title of one of the best beer pong players in your class. His presence in general has taught you to stand up for yourself and what you believe in, whether it’s against him, your parents, a toxic friend, hell, even a professor. Proving people wrong, especially Jisung, is your favorite pastime.

Sometimes, though, it’s not that easy.

There’s one area in your life where you have accepted defeat. One area in your life where Jisung has his most fun. One area, or, perhaps one person, where you simply cannot step beyond your comfort zone.

Hwang Hyunjin is your Achilles tendon and Jisung is the arrow. There are times, along with all the times you’ve considered strangling Jisung in his sleep, where you have sat and actually prayed to the gods to send someone else. Someone not nearly as perfect as Hyunjin and someone not nearly as unattainable. Alas, these prayers, hook-ups, Tinder dates, anything to get him off your mind has proved futile; because here you are three years later, stuck with this stupid, absolutely infuriating crush on the only boy who has ever owned your heart because you outright gave it to him.

one.

You are beginning to think the two bubbly junior girls who led the campus tour you attended last year lied about the dining hall.

Correction: they one hundred percent lied.

Because even though the newly renovated food court looks nice—unscratched linoleum floors, shiny marble countertops and all sorts of seating to choose from—there must be something fishy going on with the cooks. Literally. Just last week, an upperclassman had a breakdown when she forked into her tuna (why anyone would want college seafood is another story) to find a worm right there in the middle of it. You have found little shards of glass in the yogurt and bugs even at You-Cook, but that’s all a part of the college experience, right?

“Are you sure there’s no spiders or anything? Did you check?” Beside you, Maddie watches with furrowed brows as you spoon a hefty serving of scrambled eggs onto your plate. Chuckling, you move down to grab a few sausages and a chocolate chip muffin before they are gone for the rest of the day; Lord knows, you are only a month in and carbohydrates have quickly become your emotional support, just like everyone else. “Yes, I checked,” you assure her, hiding a laugh with your hand as she leans over to further scrutinize the eggs, “I didn’t see any arachnids.”

“Good,” she hums, satisfied with your answer, “can you grab a banana muffin for me? They’re usually at the bottom.”

Nodding, you turn back to the blessed muffin basket, pushing away blueberry, corn, double chocolate, all because Maddie has to be different and go for the macadamia nut banana.

“Are those the dinosaur socks they were selling on move-in day?” In front of you, someone asks, and your first instinct is to look down at your feet just to confirm. 8:30 calculus simply turns your brain to mush and remembering how you dressed for the day is near impossible. “Yes!” Laughing, you lift your leg to get a closer look at the cute green t-rexes on skates. “I was sold once I heard they were a dollar.”

Tearing your gaze away from said socks, you look up and suddenly feel as if you have bumped into an angel. Maybe there were spiders in the eggs, deadly poisonous spiders that crawled up the spoon while you weren’t paying attention and bit your hand and now you are dead and this is the angel leading you to the heavens. That, or this simply is the most beautiful human you have ever seen up close and your brain does not know how to process it. Well, maybe that’s a little extreme, but you definitely have never been so starstruck in your life.

The boy in front of you says something but you don’t hear it, senses and thoughts momentarily Off™ as you gawk at him. Aside from the deep undereye bags you all have claimed the past few weeks, this stranger is as close to perfect as you can get. Sure, Seungmin and his roommates are pretty cute—but what the fuck?

Something tells you that you have been silently staring at him, wide-eyed and mouth hanging open for far too long when his brows raise in a mix of confusion and expectation. Shit. What did he say? Synapses suddenly shooting like fireworks in your brain, you desperately try to remember his reply but instead, all you had focused on was the plumpness of his lips as he spoke and not the words themselves.

Clearing your throat, you blink once, twice, hoping you were hallucinating the whole time and the boy in front of you is not Hercules incarnate.

Lucky for you or him, you can’t tell, but he is still as attractive as he was two seconds ago. “Sorry, what?” You blurt, loud, too loud, flinching at the sound of your own voice. Instead of recognizing that you are totally off your rocker, he smiles, a soft, toothy smile that has your muscles turning to goo.

“I said I bought them, too,” cutest-boy-in-the-universe repeats, looking down and you follow his gaze, “my roommates were making fun of me, so I’m glad I finally found someone who bought them.” Alas, as he tugs at the fabric of his jeans to slightly lift the cuff you see that he, too, wears the same socks. You think you’re in love.

“Well, your roommates clearly have no taste,” you deadpan, shakily meeting his eyes once he looks back up. He laughs softly, eyes scrunching at the action and you positively swoon until silence settles over you and he takes the opportunity to regard you, gaze sweeping down your frame and up again. You hold your breath because, 1) holy shit, you would get on your knees for him right now and 2) you suddenly wish you were wearing more than the ‘just-woke-up-to-get-pegged-by-calc’ fit.

“I’m Hyunjin,” he finally says and you release all the air trapped in your lungs. “YN,” you return, grasping his outreached hand and thanking the heavens it is as sweaty as yours. “Well, it was nice to meet you, YN,” Hyunjin proceeds, releasing your hand and offering a gentle smile.

“You too, Mr. Sock Man,” you grin, rocking on your heels and realizing with a pang of disappointment that your breakfast has probably gone cold. Well, that’s okay, because right now you are totally content standing here in the middle of the dining hall, silently staring at this Hyunjin with a stupid smile plastered on your face. And the best part? He apparently is just fine doing that, too.

“YN!” Somewhere behind you, Maddie calls your name and it thrusts you head-first back into reality. “Did you find a banana muffin? I can’t find— oh. Who’s this?” Appearing beside you, visibly shocked having found you in a staring contest with a very tall, very cute boy. “Oh, uh,” you huff out a laugh, scrambling to get yourself together, “Hyunjin, this is Maddie, my roommate. Maddie, this is Hyunjin. We have the same socks.”

Brows shooting up at the puzzling introduction, Maddie bites back a laugh and looks back and forth between you and Hyunjin. “Well, you don’t hear that every day,” smiling to hide her confusion, she offers him a small wave with her hand full of muffin packs, “nice to meet you.”

Hyunjin smiles in return, gaze quickly returning to you. “I’ll be off, then. Gotta get the waffles while they’re still warm. I’ll see you around.”

And before you know it, he’s off toward the other end of the breakfast counter.

“Um, what the fuck?” Maddie whispers excitedly as you make your way toward your usual table, elbow repeatedly jabbing into your side. “I have no idea what just happened. I think I’m dreaming,” you sigh blissfully, relieved to find that Jisung and Seungmin were able to claim your favorite booth. “No, definitely not dreaming. He’s totally into you. You have to hang out.”

“What?” You sputter, nearly tripping over your own two feet. Then, lowering your voice as you near the two boys, “I – no, he isn’t. How can you tell? That was like, the cutest guy I’ve ever talked to, and you think he’s into me?”

“Who’s the cutest guy ever?” Jisung pipes up, eyes lighting up and you curse him and his fucking bat hearing.

“No one,” you grumble, smiling softly at Seungmin when he gets up so you don’t have to sit on the end, leaving Maddie to sit next to the other one. “Is it me?” Jisung grins with a flutter of his eyelashes. He’s convinced the only reason you dislike him is because you’ve actually fallen in love with him, but that’s far from the truth. You don’t even dislike him—he’s just one of the first guys you’ve met who meets your sarcasm with as much ferocity, and that is a hard pill to swallow.

“In your dreams, Han,” you sneer, gracing him with a dramatic eye roll before tearing open the bag of your muffin. Comfortable conversation quickly falls into place as you eat, complaints about your classes, Seungmin trying to convince you to join them at the first party they will be attending while Jisung mocks you for wanting to stay home, Maddie asking where Felix is and Seungmin explaining that he got so high last night he ended up staying up past four playing Overwatch and is currently sleeping past all his classes.

Then, in the midst of guzzling your apple juice, Jisung leans out of his seat to call down the aisle. “Hwang! Come pull a chair over!”

Curiosity peaked, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and crane your neck to see over Seungmin’s fat head for who this ‘Hwang’ could be until, like the universe is really trying to kill you, the Hyunjin you met not even ten minutes ago has reached your table. “Hey,” he grins brightly, dabbing up the two boys before he glances to you, mouth promptly falling open. Certain you mirror the same expression, you struggle to find your words as Jisung and Seungmin look between you in shared confusion. “First we share socks, now it’s these dumpheads?”

Ignoring the way they scowl, Hyunjin giggles shamelessly and grabs a chair from an adjacent table to sit at the head of your booth. “It would seem that way.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. You guys know each other?” Jisung scoffs in disbelief, pointedly looking at you as if you’ve gone and disproved everything he pegged of you. “We just met,” Hyunjin replies with a shy smile, sparing you a quick glance before cutting into his waffle. Jisung looks to you and you offer an affirmative nod.

“And how are you guys friends?” Maddie asks, sensing your panic. “He’s Changbin and Minho’s roommate,” Seungmin answers.

You choke on a mouthful of juice.

“Christ, you good?” Seungmin snickers, offering a few slaps to your back. With a muffled yes, you look to Hyunjin with pleading eyes. “Please don’t tell them I said they have no taste.”

He laughs, arching a brow at you. “No way. They’ll get a kick out of that.”

“Oh, Christ,” faking a cry, you bury your face into your palms, “so much for making friends.”

“It’s okay, YN,” Jisung soothes with faux sympathy, “no one wants to be your friend anyway.”

Scoffing, the table quickly falls silent when you look up with rage in your eyes. “I bet when someone asks your parents about you, they change the subject,” you spit, shooting daggers at him before stabbing your fork into an innocent chunk of egg. To your utmost surprise but total delight, the other three burst into a fit of laughter, leaving you smirking smugly and Jisung sulking.

“Anyway,” Maddie promptly changes the subject back to her chemistry professor who has started every class playing Britney Spears. Tucked away in your corner finishing the last of your sausage and stifling the urge to get up for more, it isn’t until Hyunjin begins to speak do you realize that you have been quietly watching him the entire time. You would blame the soft morning sunshine shining through the windows and illuminating the right side of his face for making him look so ethereal, but you know that isn’t the case; from short, messy black hair, silver hoop earrings, thick, defined brows, the soft curves of his nose and the pouty fullness of his lips, you are totally, completely mesmerized.

And then, the sole of a sneaker is slammed right into your shin. “OW!” You yelp, loud, and for a moment you forget the pain in favor of the embarrassment that comes with the number of heads that turn to look at you. “Sorry. Bit my tongue,” you lie, earning an unconvinced look from Maddie. “Go on,” you nod toward Hyunjin to continue whatever he was saying before directing a furious glare to Jisung, who fails to hide his triumphant smirk as he enthusiastically types on his phone.

Just as you have bent down to rub at your throbbing leg, your phone vibrates twice against the table.

han jisung [now] stop staring, ur lucky hwang is as dense as a rock or he would have left a long time ago bc of you

han jisung [now] so THAT’S the ‘cutest guy ever’ huh? so ur straight after all

Squeezing your hands into fists, you prepare to fire back a reply that will have him crying. But he has different plans.

“Oh, Hyunjin, did YN tell you she’s a dancer, too?” He exaggerates your previous mention of dancing and has the audacity to wink at you. Thanks, Mr. Match Maker.

“Really?” Hyunjin gasps excitedly, eyes lighting up and totally missing the flabbergasted what? that sputters from your lips.

“I – well, no,” you hiss, scowling at Jisung, “I used to do ballet when I was younger but that’s it. Why, though? Do you dance?”

“He’s here on a scholarship,” Seungmin explains, “and minors in creative writing.”

“Oh,” you squeak, glancing to Hyunjin who is all but smiling like a cherub, completely oblivious, “that’s amazing. You must have a crazy schedule.” Chewing the last of his waffle, he hums in agreement. “Yeah, it gets really stressful at times. But it’s worth it,” Hyunjin chuckles. Then fucking winks.

Unable to hold his gaze, you whip your head back around in a panic and reach for the mere sip left of your juice. “Speaking of crazy schedules,” he hums, slapping both Jisung and Seungmin on the shoulders, “I must head out. This was fun. I may start crashing the party more now.” Rising from his seat, Hyunjin swings his bag over a shoulder and grins brightly. Realizing it would be rude to not say goodbye, you force yourself to look back to him and offer a feeble wave.

“And YN, don’t bite your tongue when you eat, yeah?”

You’re going to pass out.

two.

Felix likes to think of you as his corrupted child when it comes to smoking weed.

A few weeks before you would all be returning home for winter break, he came knocking on your door with a proposition. “No one wants to smoke with me. Do you want to?”

This, for sure, was not what you were expecting on a cold Tuesday night in December. Despite the general curiosity and always wanting to ‘try it’ simply to feel like a teenager breaking the rules, you told him you never smoked before. “I know,” he said with a smile, “that’s why I’m asking.”

So, you agreed. Reaching for your hand, Felix snuck you out the window and led you halfway across campus to the junior parking lot, giving you ample opportunities to back out when he felt how badly you were shaking. “Whose car is this?” You laughed in disbelief when he unlocked a beaten-up Nissan near the outskirts of the lot.

“Kim Woojin. The junior?” He replied once you settled in the passenger seat next to him. “Oh.” You blinked, confused. “He lets you smoke in his car?”

“He gets me weed, too,” Felix giggled, reaching into the pockets of his sweatshirt and coming out with two tightly wrapped blunts, each about two inches long, “I’ll turn the heat on a little so we don’t freeze but we have to keep the windows open. I’m not going to have you hotbox for your first time.” You had no idea what that meant, but you agreed nonetheless.

With a brief lesson on what to do that truly made no sense until you tried it for yourself, Felix lit the blunt, took a few small hits to get it started, and then passed it to you. Holding it gingerly between your thumb and index finger, you brought the unlit end to your lips and sucked as he instructed ‘like a straw,’ breathing it into your lungs and ignoring the faint taste of smoke. Unsure of when to stop, it wasn’t until your throat felt as if it was on fire did you realize just how much you had inhaled.

“Shit,” you wheezed, coughing and choking and watching with wide eyes at the amount of cloudy white smoke that left your mouth and nostrils. Passing it back to Felix, you scrambled for the cold water bottle he brought along, downing half of it in one go to soothe the burn. “Good?” He asked, blowing out the window and turning back to you with eyes full of concern.

“Yeah,” you huffed, “give me a few, though.”

Humming in agreement, Felix connected his phone to the car’s Bluetooth and began playing what he calls his ‘getting high playlist,’ and before long, you fell in love with the feeling.

When break was over, you were dying to try it again. Felix was more than happy to be of service.

For all of March, it turned into a daily thing.

Now, you try to smoke only once a week for the sake of not dying, or something.

australian felix kjellberg❤️ [now] come hang at 201?

When the text notification pops up in the corner of your laptop screen amid your YouTube binge, your bones jitter with a mix of dread and excitement.

Dread, because that’s Hyunjin’s room. Excitement, because that’s Hyunjin’s room.

Maddie must hear your sigh. “What’s wrong?” She asks from her cozied position in bed, hand deep in a bag of popcorn.

“It’s Felix,” you start, “but he said to go to Hyunjin’s room.”

She blinks, unfazed. “And? I don’t see the problem here.”

“Well, I don’t know,” you count on your fingers, “first, I don’t know how to act around Hyunjin sober. Second, I don’t know how to act around Hyunjin high. Third, I am very touchy when high. Fourth, Hyunjin is always touchy.”

Maddie scoffs. “That’s a pretty lame argument, YN,” she laughs, “isn’t that what you want to happen?”

“Well,” she’s got a point, “yes, but it still makes me nervous. He makes me nervous.” Closing your laptop, you shimmy out of bed and debate changing out of your cotton shorts and tee shirt. Nah. You’ll probably end up going back to Felix’s and sleeping there. You put a sports bra and deodorant on and call it a day.

Maddie finds this hilarious. “You know what should make you nervous? The fact that you’re usually the only girl getting high with, what? Six guys? You know they all want to fuck you.”

“I try not to think about that, actually,” cringing, you try to erase Felix’s voice when he’s high as a kite or Changbin’s arms from your mind, “and you don’t know that. Sometimes Ryujin and Lia are there. Or, you know, you could always come. You don’t have to smoke, just come hang out. I know you want to give Minho a fat smooch.”

Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “I love you, and I appreciate the invite, but I don’t feel like babysitting a bunch of stoners, even if Minho is there.”

Laughing, all you can offer her is a shrug. “I don’t blame you,” grabbing your phone, wallet, and charger, you make your way over to her and bend over to press a goodnight kiss to her forehead, “if you need me, don’t. I’ll probably be dead.”

“Oh Lord,” Maddie cackles, watching you struggle to open the window, “don’t die. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“I’ll try,” you grin, military saluting once you’ve managed to flop over the ledge. With one last wave, you close the window behind you and thank admissions for giving you a room on the first floor.

[9:34 PM] YN: omw now, gather your forces to help me in :)

Nights in 201 are always interesting. First, their room is on the second floor, so climbing through the window is an experience. Things would be a hell of a lot easier if you could just walk in and out of residence halls as you please, but with the officer at the front desk documenting who comes in and who goes out, there would be a knock at the door at midnight asking you to leave. Second: as Maddie said, 201 means the whole squad is showing up. And when the whole squad shows up, you’re bound to feel a mix of anxiety and desire deep within your bones no matter how hard set you are on Mr. Hwang. And third: you know you’re in for one fucked up night.

[9:42 PM] YN: hereee

Standing awkwardly behind their building, you try and calm the nerves that always come when you know you will be with Hyunjin. Considering how close the two of you have become over the past few months, one would think you would have gotten a grip on those pesky feelings.

Yet again, it’s kind of hard to do that when he looks and acts like that all the time.

When the window slides open, you are expecting Changbin to hang halfway out for you to grab on to with the rest of them holding onto his legs. Instead, a tall, metal ladder of sorts is pushed out until it lands with a thud! at your feet, granting you a perfect staircase into the room.

Well, you certainly don’t see that every day.

Blinking in confusion, you do not know whether to focus on the crowd of boys waving at you from above or this abomination of a stepstool that was practically thrown out a window for you. Accepting the chain of events as just another fever dream of an experience in 201, you shake your head and begin to ascend on shaky legs, graciously taking Jisung’s hand and clinging to both him and Seungmin as they help you into the room. “Thanks,” you huff, giving them both a hug in return to their chivalry. And they dare say it’s dead!

Behind you, Changbin and Hyunjin lift the ladder-stepstool mutation back into the room and it isn’t until they have folded it into a more compact piece and set it against the wall do you speak up.

“Did you… buy a ladder?”

“Yes!” Minho bellows, thrilled by your successful entrance. “Isn’t it great?” After pulling back from a hug, he keeps his hands on your shoulders just to shake you like a bobble-head.

“Yes,” you grunt once he’s released you, head swimming, “a lot easier than hauling both me and Changbin through the window, right?” Looking to said boy, you can’t help but melt into his side when he pulls you close. “No worries,” Changbin beams, rubbing your arm, “at least we have some funny memories now.” When he moves to flop onto his bed, you realize with a shudder that you are alone with Hyunjin.

Well, technically not alone since they are all right there, but alone in the sense that they are not paying attention to you nor him.

“Hey, YN. I missed you,” he singsongs, engulfing you in one of his monster bear hugs. Disregarding the heart palpitations they may cause, Hyunjin’s hugs are truly the best and you wish you would initiate them more if it didn’t seem like such a big deal in that smooth brain of yours. “I missed you, too,” you mutter into his chest, squeezing your arms around him as if to engrave this feeling into your mind forever. “We saw each other, like, five hours ago,” he reminds you, finally pulling back and taking your will to live with him. God, he has no idea.

“And? You’re the only one here who doesn’t make me suicidal,” you lie because, in reality, he actually does. Just in a different way. “Aw,” he coos, large hand squeezing your side and you think you could orgasm on command, “good thing we have tonight, then, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you squeak, finally remembering to breathe when he steps away to sit beside Seungmin on his bed. Suddenly, you are feeling incredibly grateful no one is next to Changbin because, well, 1) he is closer to Felix and 2), you need a distraction.

“Hello, Felix,” you greet the boy sunk deep in a bean bag chair, busy grinding leaves and packing them into the bowl of a bong. “How are you this fine evening, YN?” He asks once you have settled beside Changbin, brows knitting together when the older boy drapes his arm around your waist.

“Good. Tired, though. How ‘bout you?”

“You didn’t have to come if you’re tired! We all know you work your ass off, no one’s gonna judge if you chose to stay home and sleep,” Felix expresses, giving you a look that screams ‘mom.’

“No! I’m not that tired,” you assure him, reaching for his hand and squeezing for extra effect, “you know I wouldn’t miss this. You’ve made me a pothead.”

With a proud smile, he returns to his designated job and begins working on the second, smaller bong. “So,” stretching to set your things on the desk beside Changbin’s bed, you turn to him with a knowing smile, “how’s the album coming?”

“Great!” He beams, eyes lighting up at the topic. “Jisung is a great addition. Did I tell you we started meeting with someone else, too?”

“No, who?”

“He’s a sophomore, Bang Chan?” Somewhere behind you, Felix passes a bong to Jisung for the first hit. “Bang Chan? Holy shit, Binnie,” repeatedly punching his arm to express your excitement, “that’s amazing! I didn’t know he was into music production. Not that I’ve ever talked to him, but.”

“No, I get you,” he hums, giving your side a firm squeeze, “he’s really awesome making beats. I hope we’re successful.” Then, reaching past you, he takes the second bong and a lighter from Felix. When he resituates himself, he’s considerably closer than before. You don’t mind.

“Ladies first?” Changbin offers with a crooked grin, handing them to you. Then, on second thought, he holds onto the lighter to do the honors. “Sure. Thanks,” you laugh, glancing across the room to find everyone arguing over which color to set the lights to as they wait for their high. Bringing the tube to your lips, you offer a miniscule nod to him and then he is setting flame to the bowl. Sucking strong enough to generate bubbles, you unplug the bowl once he stops and breathe in as much as your lungs can handle in one go. Then, once you have exhaled, you quickly finish what’s left in the tube before passing it to Changbin with a pleased smile.

“That was a lot,” he points out once you have handed the bong back to him. “Hey, you’re the one who kept lighting it for thirty seconds. Mother would be proud,” you joke, reciprocating the same service and lighting the bowl until he glares at you beneath his bangs.

The best part about being high is the fact that you are constantly laughing. Things won’t even be that funny, but once someone starts laughing—you’re done for. You laugh so hard it hurts, and then once it’s all over, you realize it wasn’t funny at all. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a squirrel?” Minho asks Jisung at some point. You absolutely loose it. It quite possibly is the funniest thing you have ever heard.

Pouting, Squirrel Boy leaves Minho alone on his bed to come crash beside you. “How are you, my tender oozing blossom?”

Squinting at him past the way your eyes burn, you make grabby hands and pull him close to wrap your arms around his teeny waist. Changbin grumbles in protest, but he’s too transfixed on the light’s soft in and out fade of different colors to say anything else. “Please, don’t ever call me that again,” you mumble into Jisung’s mop of brown hair.

“What?” He gasps, tilting to look up at you with puppy eyes. “You didn’t like it?”

“Nope,” smiling lazily, you rest your head atop his, “I love you, but I’m not ready for pet names yet.” His face morphs from a frown to one lit with excitement. “Holy shit, did you just say you love me? Do my eyes deceive me?”

“That would be your ‘ears,’ but yes,” you hum, brain simply not capable of denying it the way your sober self would. “More than Changbin?” Jisung whispers.

“Yes, but don’t tell him,” you return quietly, biting back a laugh.

“More than Hyunjin?” He counters. At this, you look up to find said boy sat with his legs to his chest across the room. Next to Seungmin, he looks like a giant; but a happy, pouty giant that keeps talking about how much he could go for a winter melon tea right now.

“Never.”

One and a half (half because it was just the rest of Minho’s terribly big hit that left tears streaming down his cheeks) and an unfinished game of Cards Against Humanity later, you find yourself in a blissful headspace. The song playing quietly through Felix’s speaker makes it feel like you are bouncing down stairs and then going up again, and the lights are oh so pretty, pink fading to red, yellow to green, blue to purple and so on. Things are fuzzy but crystal clear at the same time, the popcorn you’ve been shoveling into your mouth tastes heavenly, and your body feels like it is engulfed in a warm, comforting hug.

Or, that could just be Changbin.

Somewhere in between trying to get more comfortable and him yanking you to stay next to him when you attempted to get up and hug Seungmin for something sweet he said, you now find yourself on your back with a clinging Changbin on your side. You are so comfortable, but also insanely hot, and as you begin to slowly come down from your high as the hours tick by, you begin to realize it’s for another reason.

What started as an innocent hand on your side turned into his thumb rubbing meaningless patterns against your shirt, which then turned into his hand slipping beneath to splay against the warmth of your skin. Growing increasingly needy as the minutes go by, you turn to look at everyone around you. Jisung, who found himself returning to Minho, appears to be passed out with him on the far end of the room. Seungmin, curled up on the floor with a pillow and a heap of blankets. Felix, who finished off the rest of his weed, scrolls aimlessly on his phone still at the peak of his high.

And Hyunjin, who you assume has been fast asleep on his bed for a while now if the arm flung over his face tells you anything. For a moment, you feel sick with sadness. So close, but so far he lies, always a step out of reach. But you can’t deny how Changbin makes you feel—for right now, at least. And it would be a shame to miss out on an opportunity with someone else because the one you want is unattainable.

Right?

Changbin must sense the way your breathing increases, must feel the way your body reacts to the slightest of touches, yet he takes his time. He is soft in the way his hand travels up your arm, rough fingertips grazing over your collarbones before smoothing down over your chest and abdomen. It isn’t until you are about to burst at the seams does he give your ass a strong squeeze and urge your leg over his hips.

“Changbin,” you sigh, biting your lip to keep from whimpering when he begins pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the length of your throat. “Please touch me.”

He only makes a sound of agreement, savoring the way you squirm and grip onto his arm for dear life. When he offers an experimental roll of his hips to grind against you, you practically go feral. The last time you were touched in such a way was at a party in the beginning of the semester Jisung and co. physically forced you to go to, and Changbin has barely even touched you and it’s already better than the rushed sex you had that night.

“Wait,” he huffs, pausing his ministrations no matter how difficult it is to do so, “we can’t.”

“What?” You hiss, trying to keep your voice quiet, “why?”

“Because you’re high, and I’m high, and I’m not going to do anything unless you really want me to,” Changbin explains, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips when you frown in response. “But I do want you to,” you huff, chasing his mouth for another, “I trust you one hundred percent.”

“Are you sure, YN?” What about Hyunjin? is what he really means and you know he’s right. You should have never told Felix.

Trying to ignore the wetness of your underwear, you turn to lie on your back. “Whatever. Never mind,” you mumble, and when you glance back to him, you can’t help the way your heart soars with him still pressed closely to your side, blinking tiredly at you. But like he said, it’s not Hyunjin. “Just get some sleep, Binnie. Forget it happened,” smiling past the tears that threaten to spill, you ruffle his hair and press a softer kiss to his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Changbin whispers, returning the affection with a kiss to your shoulder. In minutes, he is snoring softly beside you.

You can’t fall asleep to save your life.

Reaching for your phone to check the time, you grit your teeth once you realize it’s almost four and you definitely have been staring at the ceiling for more than an hour. For starters, you are freezing now; unlike these passed out hooligans, you are showing a lot more skin and not being under the blankets is not doing you well. And secondly, it’s hard to fall asleep when your thoughts are flying miles a minute.

Is this how it’s going to be, then? Whenever you see someone, will the little guy on your shoulder whisper in your ear that it’s not Hyunjin? Or will people deem you off limits because they know of your infatuation? People who know, at least—Changbin is the first, apparently.

Just need to get comfy, you decide, trying to ignore such thoughts and turning to lie on your stomach. Bless Felix for leaving the lights on, too—you may be coming down from your high, but the vibe is simply immaculate. Tucking a hand under your cheek and following the ropes of light on the ceiling and up the walls, you find this to be enough to calm your nerves. Enough to make your eyelids heavy. Finally.

Someone lets out a monster train snore. Seungmin, you think, biting your lip to keep from laughing. Or, it could be Hyunjin. The thought is so amusing you can’t help but squint at the boy across from you to better see his outline, hoping he will do it again just to confirm.

No, not Hyunjin.

Because he’s facing you, eyes open, a soft smile plastered on his face. Well, fuck.

No reason to panic, you console yourself, returning a gentle smile in the assumption he can even see you. And you stay like that for a while, simply watching one another for an infinite amount of time. It’s not much, but it means something, you think, lost in the way the contours and highlights of his face change with each color the lights fade to. Just as you remember the whole point of getting on your stomach was to fall asleep, Hyunjin moves. Reaching for his phone, you watch in confusion as he brings it close to his face and starts typing.

hwang hyunjin👁👄👁 [now] Come sleep w me?

You almost throw up in your mouth. You must be dreaming. Surely.

Blinking against the harsh light of your phone, you cannot help your smile as you reread the text.

[4:02 am] YN: wont that b a little sus for bin

[4:02 am] hwang hyunjin👁👄👁: If anyone asks just say he kept kicking u or something

You don’t need to be told twice. Now that he has turned onto his side facing the other direction, Changbin does not stir once you slowly move to sit up and stand, nor when you reach for the quilt crumbled at the foot of the bed to pull over him. It’s not much, but hopefully it will keep him from waking in a few hours freezing to death. Then, as you tiptoe your way over to Hyunjin’s bed, avoiding Felix now that he’s sprawled half way off the bean bag, you cannot tell if you are still shivering from the cold or if the fact you are going to be sleepingwith Hyunjin in one, tiny single bed is finally clicking in your brain. Like Maddie said, this is something you want, right?

As you draw closer, Hyunjin shifts to make room and lifts the covers for you to quietly slip beneath. “Thank you,” you whisper, pulling the blanket up to your chin and trying to ignore the feeling of being so close to him. “Of course. You looked real cold over there,” he smiles tiredly. Then, his arm cautiously curls around you to rest by your head, fingers swiping stray hairs away from your face.

“I was,” you admit. Eyes level to his lips, you strain to look him in the eyes to resist the temptation now that he’s pulled you so close. “Changbin fell asleep and I felt bad waking him.”

Hyunjin doesn’t reply. He seems momentarily lost in thought, brows slightly furrowed as he chews on the inside of his lip.

“Do you like him?” He finally asks, voice shaky with hesitation.

“What?” You sputter, shocked at such a presumption. Yet again…

“No, no I don’t. I mean—as a friend, yes, but, you know,” you trail off, squeezing your eyes shut. You desperately wish you were not having this conversation right now. “He was touching you, though. And it looked like you liked it,” Hyunjin whispers, thumb swiping against your cheekbone.

“I mean, well yeah, I did. But I’m not close enough to like him like that. It’s just a physical attraction,” realizing you are discussing what went down with Changbin to Hyunjin, you suddenly pull back and lean up on an elbow to get a better look at him, heat now spreading up your limbs like fire. “Were you watching us, Hwang?”

“Yes,” he admits, “it’s kind of hard not to.” Your heart stops beating.

“I – what?” You manage once you have remembered how to breathe. “I didn’t know you were awake, we wouldn’t have… what do you mean, ‘it’s kind of hard not to?’”

“You know what I mean, YN,” Hyunjin mutters, arm slipping around your waist and pulling you to lie down with him again, this time, your chest pressed to his. “I like looking at you. You’re very pretty.”

You definitely must still be high, because you are seriously having a hard time wrapping your mind around Hyunjin calling you pretty, as well as being so close, and somewhere deep in your mind wonders if he knows. If he knows how your heart is on the line here. Knows that with him moving closer, you are taking a huge risk.

When Hyunjin kisses you, you forget that this could be the worst mistake you’ve made in a long time. Wrapped around his fingers, you pray this is his way of saying he feels the same.

“YN!” You wake to Seungmin gently shaking your shoulder. “YN, wake up. Your phone has been vibrating for twenty minutes now. It’s Maddie.”

The wave of panic washing over you dispels the grogginess you feel from suddenly being yanked from sleep, as well as the recognition of where you are and who you’re with. Frantic, you sit up and nod in thanks to him before taking the call. “Hello?”

“Oh, thank God you answered,” Maddie cries, voice choked, “I’m sorry, I know you’re still out, but I just threw up and I feel so terrible and when I get up I feel so nauseous. Can you come home?”

“Shit, Maddie, don’t apologize,” you whisper, rushing to grab your things as Seungmin unfolds The Ladder as quietly as possible, “I’m leaving now. Don’t move, you don’t want it to get worse. I’ll be there as fast as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” she whimpers before hanging up.

“Thank you, Minnie,” pressing a kiss to his cheek, you begin to climb down. “Is everything okay?” He asks, watching as you go with a worried frown. “Yes, it’s fine. Just a little emergency, don’t worry,” praying no one is out and about watching as you climb from the back of their building, you rush back to help Maddie as fast as you can.

You stay back in your dorm with Maddie for the rest of the weekend, fetching her water and ginger ale and food she can handle, helping her to the restroom, and binging all sorts of shows and movies with her. Seungmin, Jisung, and Minho visit Sunday evening, joining you for a few hours to watch Pokémon. You think it’s just because Minho knew it would be a good opportunity to snuggle with Maddie.

You can’t help but feel disappointed when Hyunjin isn’t with them. You refrained from telling Maddie what happened in 201, too caught up wanting to make sure she was alright, and by now you are starting to feel as if it wasn’t even real. Maybe you made the whole night up in your marijuana-infused brain. And snuggled up with Jisung, you can’t help but wish it was this annoying shit you were falling in love with.

On Monday morning, Hyunjin doesn’t show up for breakfast. On Tuesday, you find out he has been hanging out with a girl he met at his favorite boba joint and apparently won’t shut up about. First, you run back to your dorm to cry to Maddie, having to explain all of Friday night to her. When she leaves for her lab, you call Felix for an emergency smoke session. When Maddie texts that she is going to be out late working on a project, you call Changbin to tell him that you really do want him to.

Like you said, it’s just a physical attraction, right?

⇢ part 2

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kakakakashi · 4 years ago

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Can you do protective/jealous Shisui and Madara, like the other hcs you did?? PLEASE

I’m guessing you mean these.

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. Motherfuckin Uchiha. These little shits have a jealous streak a mile wide. I’m sorry this got so long. I got a little carried away. I love Shisui. Alright, let’s do this.

*NSFW under the cut*

Shisui

I love him, guys. I really love him.

The only Uchiha I would date in real life.

Fuck, this is turning into a “Cherry loves Shisui” post.

I do love him, though.

Okay, so Shisui.

He’s a chill dude. We know this.

He is an Uchiha, though.

The man gets jealous pretty easily.

Uchiha Jealousy™ strikes again.

He hides it well, though.

At least he hides it better than the rest of the Uchiha.

If some creep is bothering you…

He’s the boyfriend who’ll sling an arm over your shoulder and ask, “Is this guy bothering you?”

He’s probably gonna also kiss your forehead, cheek, or neck depending on whoever is making him jealous.

And whoever was stupid enough to encroach on Shisui’s territory is gonna split like a banana.

They didn’t know he was your boyfriend. If they did, they’ve definitely gotten a death wish.

Shisui literally has a flee on sight order for the other nations.

The man is known and feared by all.

Anyway, once the jerk flees for his life, Shisui suggests heading home casually. If you want to stay, it’s cool, but he wants to make sure you feel safe.

Tbh, you feel safe when you’re with him.

If you tell him, he will melt.

He will also have a hand on you for the rest of the night and will refuse to leave your side again.

If you do go home, though, he’ll immediately start kissing you all sweet, but don’t let him fool you.

He’s been planning how to get in your pants since that jerk decided it was okay for them to look at you like that, especially in front of Shisui.

Probably goes down on you until you beg him to stop

Orgasm denial? I think yes. Overstimulation along with that? I think yes.

He’s got you spread out as far as you can, and just goes to town between your legs.

He’s teasing you until you cry and when he finally gives you what you want, he doesn’t stop.

You tell him you can’t take it, and he goes on… just for another two rounds, though.

Then he’s gonna fuck you silly.

By the end, the only thing you can say is his name.

Bastard probably does that “Whose pussy is this? What’s my name? What’s your name?” thing.

And you answer “Shisui” to all of them.

He smirks like the little shit he is.

He also gets jealous when you spend too much time without him or don’t give him enough attention.

If you’re paying more attention to Itachi than him while you’re all hanging out, he’ll get all pouty.

He’ll pull out the puppy dog eyes, and get all clingy.

It’s all just for funsies, though. He’s a jokester, and he really just does it to make you giggle.

It always works.

The kisses you pepper all over his face are also a bonus for him.

Will also pick you up if you’re ignoring him.

Really just a big dork.

I love him.

Madara

Um… bold of you to assume he’s not already fucking your brains out in front of the perpetrator.

Let’s say you’re friend with Hashirama because he’s a sweetie who just wants to be friend with everyone.

Hashirama is a puppy, okay. You can’t help but be chill with him. His brother’s kind of a dick to you, but he’s cool.

So, you don’t think much of it until one day, Hashirama is joking with you, and Madara sees.

He basically invented the words “jealous” and “possessive”.

He puffs out his chest, approaches, and greets Hashirama politely.

Hashirama is basically completely unaware of Madara’s death glare.

He’s got one brain cell, and it’s used to love his friends. Can you blame him?

Anyway, Madara notices that Hashirama didn’t mean anything by it, and neither did you.

Doesn’t mean he’s not gonna excuse the both of you, take you home, and fuck you into the mattress for the next three days.

Rips all your clothes and doesn’t eve apologize.

Literally only stops to eat and sleep.

Another one that will take what he needs, so you better be prepared to give it to him.

“Do you think anyone else can make you feel like this?”

Will spank you until you answer him the way he wants.

You’re covered in new marks after every round.

You’re sore in muscles you didn’t even know you had.

You’re so fucked out, you can’t take it…

And then he fucks you again. And again. And again.

Each time harder than the last.

You never get to be in control, and you’re always pinned down.

You aren’t complaining, though.

It’s all v mind-blowing

Needs everyone to know you’re his.

It’s the Uchiha Breeding Kink

And the Uchiha Jealousy™

It’s in their blood.

If you don’t walk away from the experience pregnant… nope.

You definitely walk away pregnant no matter what.

#naruto imagines #shisui x reader #madara x reader #cherry has ideas sometimes #hi. i’m cherry queen of the sin bin.#Anonymous #100 #cherry posts about ninja nerds #200

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nox-et-stellae · 3 years ago

Note

56/90 for Yahashira! anything that isn't angsty pls

(it ended up being just a teensy bit angsty but it's all for good reason i promise!!)

***

"You need to take your shirt off."

Shigeru looked up from the book he was reading. Kenjirou was leaning against the doorframe of their bedroom, wearing only his boxers and toweling off his hair. Shigeru could smell the bodywash he had used from where he was sitting on their bed.

"What, is date night canceled?" he teased. He wiggled his eyebrows at Kenjirou's lack of clothing. "Not that I'm complaining."

The towel he got flung at his head was probably deserved.

"It's going to be if you intend on going out wearing that." Kenjirou crossed his arms, his lips curling in disgust.

Shigeru glanced down at his chosen outfit. "What's wrong with my banana shirt?"

"Everything," the response came, in the shape of a long-suffering sigh. Kenjirou narrowed his eyes at the green short-sleeved shirt with bright yellow banana pattern as if he hoped his gaze could make it turn to dust. "Don't you have something more appropriate?"

"But I love this shirt," Shigeru pouted. "And I know you like it, too."

"It's obnoxious, and if I hear you say 'it's bananas' in regards to it one more time I will set it on fire and make you watch."

His pout turned into a frown. "Killjoy. I thought date nights were supposed to be fun. This shirt is fun."

Kenjirou groaned. He stomped into the bedroom and began pulling on the set of clothes he'd picked out for the night. "Can you at least pretend to take this seriously?"

"It's just a casual night out, for fuck's sake, what's the big deal?"

Shigeru had been teased and berated for his clothing choices before -- to be fair, his peculiar style made them a very easy target. And he couldn't remember the last time Kenjirou had foregone commenting on his outfits. Part of him even looked forward to whatever Kenjirou had to say; sometimes he picked garments and made combinations he knew would get a rise out of him, just for the hell of it.

It was usually all in good fun, but this time there was a sharp undercurrent in Kenjirou's words that put Shigeru on edge.

"You'd stick out like a sore thumb in the restaurant I picked for tonight," Kenjirou was saying, buttoning up a burgundy long-sleeved shirt with slender fingers. Shigeru loved that colour on him. It complimented his eyes and his hair.

"You could've just told me we had a dress code," Shigeru said, struggling to keep the snap out of his voice.

"Well, technically, there isn't one, but--"

"Then what's the damn problem?" Shigeru slid off the bed and got to his feet, just so Kenjirou wasn't looking down on him anymore. Not that he was capable of doing that while bending at the waist to pull on a pair of slacks that were way neater than his usual skinny jeans. "We go out for dinner all the time. It's never been an issue before!"

"The issue," Kenjirou spat, stepping forward far enough that their noses almost touched, "is that I refuse to have you look like a complete moron when I propose to you!"

Time came to a screeching, stuttering halt.

Kenjirou's eyes went wide, and he moved back, clamping a hand over his mouth.

Shigeru's veins turned into ice.

"What...?" he breathed.

"You really bring out the worst in me," Kenjirou mumbled into his palm. His whole face flamed a bright red, brighter than Shigeru had ever seen on him before. "Usually I'm way better at keeping secrets."

"What?" Shigeru repeated dumbly. His chest expanded and constricted at the same time. His heart raced through its unsteady rhythm, ricocheted off his ribs. A part of him was convinded he'd heard wrong.

The rest of him begged that he hadn't.

"I was going to propose tonight, you insufferable idiot." His hand moved up to cover his eyes instead. "But I guess I've ruined it now."

Shigeru exhaled shakily. He felt like he'd just ran a marathon; leaden legs, weak knees, sweaty palms.

Looks like he won it, too.

"Kenjirou," he whispered. A plea, an answer, a love song all in one.

He waited for Kenjirou's hand to fall away before catching his warm, blushing face in his hands and kissing him like Kenjirou was his first breath of oxygen since the beginning of time. Kenjirou's hands slid into place on his waist right away, like they'd done so many times before. At some point he tasted salt, and he wasn't sure whose tears were the culprit.

"Yes," Shigeru said as he pulled back, unable to contain the grin that nearly split his face in two. "Yes, I'll marry you."

Kenjirou's eyes scanned his face dazedly, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening. Then he grew a smile that matched Shigeru's, and he laughed, a soft, fragile sound dripping with elation and relief. His forehead came to rest against Shigeru's, and Shigeru thumbs danced over his cheeks, gently wiping away stray tears.

"Guess there's no use going out for dinner anymore," Kenjirou said eventually, after countless minutes of swaying in the world they built together.

"On the contrary," Shigeru said, "a restaurant is the perfect setting for what we have to celebrate."

He planted a kiss on Kenjirou's forehead. "And, don't worry, I'll change into something more appropriate."

Kenjirou laughed. "You'd better, or else this marriage is done for."

"Alright, alright -- give me ten minutes." Shigeru quickly collected some fancier clothes and dove into the bathroom.

Kenjirou was waiting for him at the door when he finished dressing up.

"How do I look?" He twirled, showing off the black slacks and blazer that matched Kenjirou's, and the teal shirt he chose to wear underneath.

"Miles better," Kenjirou said. "However, you're missing one essential accessory."

He held up his hand with a smile, and pinched between his thumb and forefinger was a simple golden engagement ring. With startling ease, and even more startling gentleness, he took Shigeru's left hand and slid the band onto his ring finger. Shigeru took a second to admire the way the hallway lights bounced off the smooth, polished metal.

"There," Kenjirou nodded to himself. He caught Shigeru's gaze, and his amber eyes were bright with joy, warm and soft like honey. "Well then, shall we?"

***

[Send me a number + a pairing for a ficlet]

#yahashira #shirayaha #shirabu kenjirou #yahaba shigeru #haikyuu!!#emory writes #two and a half years later and i finally write a second yhashra proposal #when i started this i had no idea it would turn out like it did but i can't complain #em takes writing requests

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mrs-takami-keigo · 4 years ago

Text

Strawberry Fields

Paring: Kirishima x Full Figured Reader

Rating: SFW

Word count: 5.5K

Warnings: Self-Deprecation, Fat-phobia

Prompt: First meeting

Taglist: @dragonhrte

So this will be my third tile off of my bingo card for the @bnhabookclub and this one was a tough one to write. This is SFW but will cover themes such as Self-deprecation and Fat-phobia. As a person who has been on the bigger side most of her life it has taken a lot of confidence building to get to be who I am today. And as a writer I fell like it’s my duty to be as inclusive as I can be. Through my years of reading I haven't seen that many fuller body reader fics. When I say fuller body I’m talking 200+.

If there is one thing I want someone, plus size or not just remember you deserve to be and feel loved, everyone does! I hope this can give whoever is reading this a sense of comfort.

You don’t think you could ever forget the first time he came into your life. At the time you worked at a sweets shop called Honey’s, a place that only sells, well sweets! Cakes, doughnuts, pastries, floats, sundaes and milkshakes. Honey’s had a wide variety to offer for their wide variety of customers, they ranged from kids all the way to cute elderly couples, sharing a banana split.

You loved working there, it was perfect seeing as how you were in culinary school to be a confectionary chef. Making pastries and anything sweet was all you wanted to do, it was something that brought great joy in your life. It also didn’t require you to be around too many people at one time. The owner and head chef were more than happy to hire you, and the position was perfect, you just had to work the bar or as they called it the candy bar. Standing behind a giant bar as you took orders for the people that came in alone really was ideal, seeing as how you had anxiety. Being a fuller bodied and taller girl all your life and having dealt with bullying and all types of teasing always stuck with you.

You could remember those whispers people around you in high school made as you walk down the aisle of desks in your classes, your hips sometimes brushing against the desk or the person that was sitting in them. Or even having to turn sideways just to get past something, because you couldn't fit. So working behind the candy bar, where there wasn’t anything you had to squeeze past or worry about bumping into things, truly was a match made in heaven.

You were in charge of making the milkshakes, recipes, names everything. The owner let you have full control of that. When he first told you that you didn’t think anything could top that day.

That was until you met him.

It was a Friday afternoon on a beautiful June day. Even though there was a pandemic going on and everyone, workers and patrons alike still had masks on. Even the regulars were happy the shop was open, happy to have some sort of normality back. The light chime of the bell in the front signaled that a new customer had walked in.

Usually you didn’t look at the door when someone walked in, seeing as how you were always busy manning the bar. But something told you to look up. Standing at the door was a group of guys who were around their twenties, looking around the shop and talking amongst themselves.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of the red haired one. He was tall, one of the tallest in the group, he had broad shoulders and a muscular build. A plain white v-neck t-shirt, light blue jeans that had frayed holes in them and red converse’s. It was a simple look but you couldn’t help but watch as a waitress, who just so happened to be your roommate, walk them over to the booth in the back of the room.

He slid into the booth, the side he sat on faced you, so when he took off his black mask with the words ‘RIOT’ in red letters, you could feel heat rise up your cheeks under your own mask.

‘Oh god he’s really handsome.’ The way his eyes turned into upside down crescent moons as he smiled a smile you were sure could light up the world. His features were manly but also so soft at the same time, it just made you want to pinch his cheeks. His crimson eyes were big and bright, you could feel yourself melt when they glanced in your direction.

You panicked when you locked eyes for a millisecond with him before you just turned your head and pretended like nothing happened. Your heart was racing and legs were weak, all he did was look in your direction and he had you turning into a puddle.

“Hey, are you okay?” The sound of your roommates muffled voice broke you out of your slight panic.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good!” You smiled at her and even though she couldn’t see it through the mask.

“Well the group of hotties I just sat down all want milkshakes. One cara-delight, one cookie monster, one banana mania and one strawberry fields.” You took the small piece of paper from her order book, placing it on your board as you start to make the milkshakes.

You didn’t know which one the man that caught your attention got but something was telling you it was the strawberry one. You kept on smiling as you made the drinks. Wondering what his name was or what his voice sounded like.

Glancing back at the table, you watched as he continued to laugh and talk with his friends. The blonde with what you would call porcupine hair that sat next to him, seemed to be angry about something. But red, that’s what you decide to call him, was just laughing at him which seemed to make the other male angrier.

Shaking your head you turned back to the shakes, putting on the last piece of garnish on the strawberry one. Tapping the bell that let the waiters/waitresses know their order is up my roommate came bustling over.

“This is for the hotties at the back booth right?”

You nodded your head as she fixed her hair and her outfit before taking the drinks over to the table. I felt my heart sink slightly as she started to talk to red. It looked like she was flirting with him, and he was smiling back at her. You let out a defeated sigh as you watched the exchange.

This always happened, a guy you found cute or interesting would fall for your friend. They would become close with you just so they could get close to her.

‘Why am I surprised? Why would a guy like that even notice me?’ You started to wipe down the counter and work station as you got lost in your thoughts. Your roommate was beautiful and petite, an extroverted type of person that people just flocked to, a man’s ideal type.

You felt like you were the exact opposite. Tall, full figured, not great looking and a person with too much anxiety to be sociable. So of course he would go for a girl like her, it just made sense.

You spent the next hour making milkshakes, taking orders of the regulars you had, thinking of new recipes and cleaning. Anything to distract yourself from looking at where red sat. Still not looking you heard your roommate say her goodbyes to the group as they walked out of the shop. Exhaling a sigh of relief, knowing that he was finally gone, it came rushing back as your friend bounced behind the bar, hopping up to sit on the counter of the work station.

“Guess who has a date?” She gushed as she played with a neatly folded piece of paper between her dainty fingers. “I think I’m in love! His red eyes were so...ugh!! And his hair although it was sticking up all over the place, he was still cute. He was so in shape too!!”

With each word she said you felt like your heart was breaking into a million pieces. You weren’t sure what made you think that there was just a shimmer of hope he would be one of those guys who didn’t care about looks and things like that.

“Well anyway he’s coming here tonight when my shift ends for a date! I already asked the owner if we could do it after we close and he said sure as long as you’re here!”

“Wait, you want me to stick around while you go on a date with this guy?” She nodded her head vigorously. “And I’m assuming I'm going to be cooking for this date?” Again she nodded.

“Fine but you owe me big time!” You couldn’t say no to her, she's been your friend since middle school. She was the one to defend you when people used to pick on you and was there for every mental break down you had.

“Do you know how much I love you!?” She jumped off the counter to give you a big bear hug. You wrapped your arms around her slim waist. “His friend said he’d come along, so you wouldn’t just be here alone! He kept asking questions about you.” She wiggled her eyebrows as she danced out of your embrace.

“Huh?! Who?!” Before she could answer a few waiters came up with orders for milkshakes.

“You’ll see later. I’m gonna run and grab stuff for you to cook during my break, and again thank you so much!!” You just waved her off as you started to get the order together.

“When did you have time to change?!” You and your friend had already closed up shop and were getting ready for her date and his friend to show up.

“I move quickly! So I got chicken, lemons, cooking white wine and pasta, that's all you needed right?” She had removed the bags from the walk-in fridge, putting them on the table.

“Yeah I figured a nice grilled lemon chicken and pasta would be a good dinner for the date, and I already started prepping for the creme brulee.” You began to pull the items out of the bag when you heard her phone go off.

“Oh he just texted me! Bakugou and his friend will be here in twenty!” You had never seen your friend act like this about a guy. There was another sharp pain as you felt your heart break.

‘So Bakugou is his name huh?’

“Go out and set up your table, I found some candles in the office for you to use to set the mood.” You started to shove her to the door and out of the kitchen so you weren’t bothered.

She looked like she was walking on clouds as she hummed and made her way to the table in the middle of the room. You figured that would be the best place seeing how it wasn’t so close to where you were going to be, so it didn’t seem like you were intruding on them and not far enough incase she needed help.

Twenty minutes went by too fast for your liking, as happy as you were for her, you didn’t want to see Bakugou so soon. The pasta was done and the chicken needed another ten minutes when she came through the kitchen doors.

“Take off your jacket and come out, they are here!” She was tugging on the sleeve of your white jacket. Sighing you started to unbutton it before sliding it off your arms.

‘Might as well get this over with.’ Hanging your jacket up you looked at yourself in the mirror one last time. All you wore was an old baggy band t-shirt that was so big it came down past your behind and leggings paired with black combat boots.

Following your friend through the swinging doors, you could see two shadowy figures at the door. You heard the lock click as she unlocked it and opened it for the two men. Feeling your anxiety come back, you didn't want to see him again, this was a mistake.

“Hey! So glad you guys can make it.” You tried to busy yourself with the silverware for you and his friend, avoiding looking at him.

“It’s our pleasure! Plus I couldn’t stop thinking of that milkshake from earlier.” That made a smile spread under your mask. You loved hearing people compliment your work.

“My friend here actually is the one in charge of the recipes and menu for them. And she cooked us all dinner tonight!” You could hear them getting closer.

‘Alright here we go.’ You looked up to see blondie and red walking towards you. If this was an anime you were sure one of the ghost things would come out from your mouth as your body left your soul. Bakugou looked so handsome. His spiky red hair from earlier was down now, a black button down with a red tank top peeking through the undone buttons hugged his muscular frame, dark blue jeans showcased his long thick legs, black converses were on his feet this time and that same mask from before.

You were positive that your heart had stopped and so did your breathing. You didn’t even pay attention to his friend, you only saw him.

“Gentlemen this is, y/n. y/n this is Bakugou and Kirishima.” It took you a second to realize that the blonde was Bakugou and the red head was Kirishima. Which meant your friend was on a date with the blonde.

“It’s nice to meet ya!” Kirishima sent you a small wave as those beautiful red eyes turned into crescent moons, he was smiling at you.

“Ditto.” You heard a deep chuckle come from him causing you to blush even more. “Um, I’m gonna go check on the food. You guys can go to the table and Kirishima can sit at the bar with me.”

Walking back through the door to the kitchen, you started to pace. You were about to have dinner with the guy you have been thinking about all day, and you were sweaty and gross from a day's work. Hair pulled up into a ponytail with strands poking out all along your hairline and in an old gross band tee.

You covered your eyes with your hands as you shook your head. ‘Get it together!’

Going to the chicken you saw that it was done and started to plate the dish. Once everything was plated you grabbed a large round tray, placing the four plates on it. Heaving it up to your shoulder to help you balance it, you walked back to the door before backing into it. You had just gotten around the bar when you felt the tray be lifted from your hands. Looking to your left you saw Kirishima hold the tray like you had and made his way to the couples table.

“Here you go guys. Enjoy!” He put the plates down as if he was their server and made his way back to you. You watched as he put the plates down on the bar, then setting the tray off to the side.

“Aren’t you gonna join me?” He pulled his mask down allowing you to see his handsome face in all its glory.

“Um yeah.” You walked over to the stool that had the plate in front of it. Your stool and his were separated by one empty one in between you two.

You felt his eyes on you the whole way to your stool. Once you sat down you looked back at him, he was still staring.

“What?” You started to feel self conscious.

“You’re beautiful.”

You looked at him in disbelief. “How could you possibly know that, when I'm wearing this mask and all you could see are my eyes?”

“That’s all I need to see to know you’re beautiful.” You felt your cheeks heat up intensely as he said that. Not once did he look away from your eyes. And his voice, god could you listen to his voice all night.

“W-we should eat before it gets cold.” You finally pulled down your mask, letting him see your whole face for the first time.

“Seems like I was right, you sure are beautiful.” Your head snapped over to look at him, but he had started to eat his food, a prominent blush on his cheeks as well.

The rest of the night flew by as you and Kirishima started to talk about your love for cooking and baking.

“You're telling me that not only are you beautiful, you can cook and bake?!” He had his elbow propped up on the bar his chin was being held by his hand. A goofy grin was spread across his face as he watched you prepare the creme brulee.

A small part of you wanted to be happy that he was taking interest in your likes and passions in life. But a bigger part of you was aware that he was just here as a wingman for his friend.

“You have the cook and bake part right at least.” You turned on the small blow torch to caramelize the sugar on top of the custard. You glanced up at the man who had your heart racing all night. Instead of the cheerful look you’ve gotten used to, he had an expression of sadness. It confused you, why would he get sad?

“Hey can I talk to you for a second?” You weren't sure when your friend had come over to you, seeing as how you were caught up in Kirishima’s expression. Shutting off the torch, you nodded your head and excused yourself from Kirishima, taking your friend's hand and head for the kitchen.

“I’m really hitting it off with Bakugou, we're gonna go for a walk in the park after dessert. He’s asking Kirishima to walk you home, is that okay?” You could see it in her eyes, she really liked him.

“It’s fine! Go have fun just text me every once in a while okay?”

You both walked out from the kitchen again as you went to finish the creme brulee. You all decided to eat it together at the bar and finish up the night. You learned that Bakugou was a hot head but was still super sweet, perfect for your best friend.

Once everyone was done, the two men insistent on helping you two clean up the mess before leaving for the night.

“All right, have fun you two! I’ll see you at home.” You waved at your friend as she wrapped her arm around Bakugou’s, making their way to the park.

“Shall we go?” Looking over at Kirishima, who had his arm out for you to take like his friend had done, you sighed.

“Listen Kirishima, you don’t have to walk me home. Bakugou got my friend, he doesn’t need a wingman anymore.” You could see the confusion on his face as you continued to speak. “It was a fun night and all but I can get home by myself. Take care.”

You started to walk down the street, leaving Kirishima to stand alone in front of Honey’s. Your apartment wasn’t too far from the shop, only about a twenty minute walk. The only thing that sucked was there was a strip of clubs you had to walk past in order to get home. Drunk people always made you feel anxious, they tend to not be so nice.

You did feel bad for leaving Kirishima like that but you also had to face the harsh reality that there was no way a guy would like you like that. His smiling face and his voice when he called you beautiful rang through your head. You had to admit it was nice to think that maybe he did take an interest in you.

You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice the large group of men outside of one club. Trying to squeeze yourself through them, you accidentally bumped shoulders with the bigger male in the group.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You apologized the second it happened but the man didn’t care. His large hand shoved against one of your shoulders causing you to fall off the sidewalk and into the street, landing on your side. You could feel the arm you landed on start to burn, certain that you had a couple of scrapes. You had tried to avoid the fall but it caused you to twist your ankle.

“Watch where you're walking lard ass!” He laughed with his group of friends as you still sat on the ground, holding your injured arm in your hand.

Tears started to form in your eyes. Sure you’ve been called names all your life because of your size, doesn't mean it didn’t still hurt. You tried to stand up but your body wouldn’t, you were just emotionally and mentally exhausted. So you just sat there and cried.

“Ha! Look she can’t even stand up! It’s called a gym and a salad, fat-OOF!” You heard what sounded like a rock hitting something followed by a thud of the big man falling and hitting the ground. Wiping your tears you saw Kirishima standing over the fallen man, his chest heaving up and down, hands balled into fists, teeth bared. His face was covered in rage, it kind of scared you.

“It’s not very manly to push a woman around like that!” The guys friends came to try and peel him off of the ground saying apology after apology to you as they ran away. “Cowards!”

Kirishima looked over his shoulder at you, his expression softened once he saw your tears. Moving next to you he squatted down, a large gentle hand came out to move the hand that was covering the wound. You let out a hiss as his fingers grazed it.

“I’m sorry, I should have gotten to you sooner.” His voice was nothing but a whisper, his eyes covered by his hair. “Do you need help standing?”

“Yeah.” Kirishima stood up in front of you holding out both of his hands for you to grab on to. Your hands let go of his as you tried to stand on your own, but there was a shooting pain in your right ankle, sending shockwaves through your body. You felt like you were about to fall again but you felt arms wrap around your waist and a hard chest against your body.

“Whoa I got you.” You could feel him tighten his arms around you, making you feel so warm in his embrace. “I’ll carry you home.”

“No it’s okay I can walk.” You pushed yourself off of him trying to prove you could walk, only to almost fall again.

“Damn it will you just let me help you?” He was holding you around the waist again. A light blush appeared on your cheeks. “Here climb on my back.” He crouched down in front of you, his broad back was in your view.

“I-I don’t want to hurt you.” Your voice was meek, as you looked around. Other people on the sidewalk were staring at the two of you.

Kirishima turned around looking over his shoulder, a wide toothy grin was plastered on his lips, your heart started to race. “I’m a lot stronger than you think.”

You knew he wasn't going to give up, sighing as you climbed on his back. You pressed your chest against his back, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. Your head was next to his as you tried to bury your face in the back of his shoulder. Standing up Kirishima gripped your thighs, jumping so you were in a better position for him.

“You okay?” You could only nod against him. “Can you tell me how to get to your place?” Everytime he spoke you could feel the vibrations go through your body. You directed him to your apartment. As he kept walking you were readying yourself for him to just say that you were too heavy and drop you in the middle of the sidewalk. But he barely broke a sweat as he walked the last ten minutes to your place.

“I can walk now.” You mumbled against his shoulder once Kirishima stepped out of the elevator on your floor.

“Not until I get you inside and patched up.” You’ve only known him for only a few hours but the effect he had on your heart was indescribable. Once he got to your door he squatted down, keeping his eyes to the ground so you could put in your code to open the door.

You were grateful for the fact you cleaned the apartment yesterday, seeing as how there was a guy walking through it. Walking over to the large couch by the window, Kirishima turned around sitting on the couch, allowing you to slide off his back.

“Do you have a first aid kit anywhere?” Your eyes watched his every move as he bent down on one knee, softly grasping your injured ankle. He slipped the boot off slowly, removing your sock and pulling up your leggings so he could get a look at your now swollen ankle.

“Yeah it’s under the sink in the bathroom, down the hall first door on your right.” Kirishima took one of the small pillows off the couch and pulled the coffee table closer. Placing the pillow on the table, laid your ankle on it as he ran to the bathroom.

You weren’t sure how to feel. Between your feelings for your red knight, what happened with the guy outside of the club and your own insecurities. Could he actually like you? Were you allowed to actually have someone like you, for you?

“Here we go. I took a bag of frozen peas from the fridge if that's okay.” You could only nod your head as he went back to the same position he was in earlier. “Looks like it might be sprained. You are gonna have to stay off of it for a while, so that means no work for the time being.”

Kirishima was wrapping an ace bandage securely around your ankle and foot. Once he did that he put the frozen bag of vegetables on top of it. He dug through the first aid kit searching for some more items. You couldn’t stop watching him, his face was full of concentration. For some reason it just made him look even more handsome than he already was.

“Alright let’s take care of that-what?” He turned around to look at you, catching you just simply staring at him. “Is there something on my face?” He started to wipe his face in all different areas.

You chuckled at how cute he looked trying to get whatever he thought was on his face. “No, nothing is on your face, it's just…” You let the sentence die out. You couldn’t let him know what you were feeling, but you also didn’t want to get hurt….again.

“What’s wrong?” Kirishima got up, taking a seat next to you on the couch, facing your direction. You couldn’t look at him, opting to look down at the hem of your shirt, playing with it between your fingers.

“Why are you doing this?”

“What are you talking about?” You sighed a deep sigh, gathering the courage to look him in the eyes.

“Why are you going this far to help me? Are you just trying to get brownie points for your buddy or something? I already told you my friend is really into your’s, so no need to go this far.” You felt tears spilling from your eyes again. There was nothing more you wanted than to live in this fantasy with Kirishima, but after years of experience you knew how this all would play out. So you might as well put an end to it now.

“You think I’m doing this for Bakugou to get points with your friend?” Kirishima reached a hand out cupping your round cheek in it. His large thumb wiping away your tears, a soft smile on his lips. “You've got this all wrong angel face, Bakugou was my wingman tonight.”

You could only stare at him. Not sure if what you heard him say was correct. There was no way that he was the one to set all this up for you.

“What do you mean?”

“I noticed you the second I walked into Honey’s, you were the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my life. And when we sat down those sparkling eyes of yours looked right at me and I was sure my heart stopped.” His thumb was drawing small circles on your tear stained cheek.

“I knew your friend was into Bakugou so while she was busy I told him to ask her out hoping that in some weird way I’d be able to get closer to you.” You could see the small blush forming on his cheeks, he was embarrassed.

“But why? Why would someone like you, be into someone like me? I mean look at me I’m not pretty, I’m tall and huge.” You pulled his hand off of your face. He was everything you could wish for, handsome, funny, caring, protecting, Kirishima had it all. But in your mind you had nothing to offer a man like him.

“I’ve done nothing but look at you. All I see is a woman who is selfless, talented, passionate about her craft, honest, strong and so freaking beautiful it should be a crime.” Kirishma had turned your face back to him, but this time he was much much closer. His crimson eyes stared into your own. You felt like you could get lost in them.

“Kirishima…” No matter how hard you tried the tears wouldn’t stop.

“I don’t care about what your physical appearance looks like, in my eyes you are the most beautiful being out there, angel face.” He brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face. “So please stop crying, okay?”

He pulled you closer to him, burying your face in his chest. One hand rubbing your back while the other was patting your head. He kept humming a song you couldn’t recognize, but the vibrations were lulling you into a deep sleep.

According to your friend, Kirishima was still there holding you as you slept when she came home. He explained everything that happened that night and she told him about your past experiences. Kirishma felt his heart break for you. He wanted nothing more than to protect and give you the love you deserve.

Over the next three years that's exactly what he did. It was your graduation day, you were officially a professional confectionary chef! Finishing your hair you heard your cell phone go off, letting you know you had a text.

Red Knight: I’m downstairs whenever you’re ready, angel face! <3

You: I’ll be right down~ <3

Even after all this time just a simple text from your boyfriend always made your heart flutter and a smile spread across your face. Looking one last time in the mirror, you were in love with the dress you had ordered for your special day. It was a long soft pink dress that was made from lace, ruffles along the bottom of it. With every movement the dress flowed with you, showcasing your body in all the right ways. It had sparkly strawberries embroidered all over it. Something that went along with your profession while also having Kirishima’s favorite fruit on it.

Having him in your life was a blessing. He showed you an unconditional love you never knew could exist. He was patient with you, always there to reassure you that no matter what he loved you to the moon and back when you doubted yourself. He was there when classes and work were getting to be too much, staying up with you at all hours of the night helping you perfect certain dishes that proved to be difficult. And always without fail Kirishima was there to walk you home each and every night. He really was your red knight.

“Hey! Kiri is downstairs I’m gonna go! I’ll see you after the ceremony!” You shouted out to your roommate. You didn’t even wait for a response as you flew out of the door and into the elevator.

The elevator reached the main floor, dinging while sliding it’s doors open. You could already see him standing outside, hands in the pockets of his as he rocked back and forth on his heels, looking around and whistling. His red hair had grown over the years to the point where he could put it in a ponytail, you were obsessed with it. You always admired how he dressed and today was no different. He looked so good in his tan blazer with the sleeves rolled up showing off his defined forearms, and a loose white t-shirt under it. It was paired with a black trousers and black leather shoes.

Pushing the door open you caught Kirishima’s attention, his mouth hung open as you stepped through the door, his eyes roaming around your body.

“Do you like the dress?” You started to fiddle with the dress, nervous as time continued to pass and the man that held your heart hasn't said anything yet.

“Like it?” You let out a yelp as you felt him put his hands on your waist lifting you up off the ground slightly, spinning with you. “It’s freaking amazing! You’re amazing, angel face.”

He placed you back on the ground but never stepped away from you. Kirishima brought his hand up to the side of your neck, leaning down.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are to me, I love you.” He pressed his lips against yours.

There was nothing you wouldn’t change about the day you first met the man of your dreams, not in the slightest.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima #bnhabookclub #bnhabookclub bingo event #eijirou x reader #bnha #mha #sfw #plus size reader

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