#I just don’t seem to know how to put my foot down or set proper boundaries | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alovett · 2 years ago

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Family, Friends and stalkers,

This is a bit of a read. I took the time to write it, so please take the time to read it.

The following transcript is a short (true) story about a life event that I have recently been through and have processed. Enjoy. Or don't.

In March of this year, after tearing my LCL in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and after being encouraged by my wife Nicole, I decided that I needed hit the gym to help the healing of my knee, to get healthier and to set out with a new goal. I decided that it would be fun to compete in a body building competition (Men’s Physique).

After discussing this idea with Nicole and already having her support in this endeavor, I hired IFBB (International Fitness and Body Building Federation) Pro, Jeni Briscoe. Jeni is a local in my town and has YEARS of body building experience and training. She seemed up to the task.

On April 1st, I started my journey. A journey that I entered blindly, not knowing how it might or might not change my life. Jeni got me on a proper eating program right away and into a gym regiment. She has been whipping my butt into shape for the last 6.5 months. She spent a lot of time mentoring, training, answering (a LOT of) questions and giving me loads of encouragement along the way.

The first couple of weeks were just getting used to the routine of being back in the gym – it had been 3, maybe even 4 years since I had set foot in one. I started with a 6-day gym plan. Being married, a father of four and working full-time didn't give me much free time. The only option was to start waking up at 4:15 a.m. during the week, to be at the gym for 5:00 a.m. - this was rough. I spent 1.5 hours at the gym each morning and by the time I got to my desk at work, I had already been up, and active, for 4 hours.

At about the 6-week mark, getting up so early was becoming a little easier and I received a new exercise plan. I don’t know why, but even this felt like some sort of little milestone – I had made it to the next step. I believe the food plan still stayed the same at this point - lots of protein and veggies. A true whole-fool meal plan.

Shortly after the 6-week point, our household got very sick and I missed my first day(s) at the gym. I missed 4 days during this time and it felt like a devastating blow. I lost a lot of weight (from being sick) strength and even a little motivation. Though, with the continued support from Nicole, and a little push from Jeni, I was back on track and was back to making progress.

Fast forward to August. The early summer months were successful. I was lifting more, losing pounds and inches when and where needed. I had missed 4 days through June and July (3 Saturdays), due to family obligations. I was feeling much more motivated going to the gym now and 4:15 a.m. was starting to feel “right”.

Every year in August we make plans for a family vacation. Like usual, we had previously made plans to go down south for this year's summer vacation. I had had a few chats with Jeni about this pending vacation and was in the right mind set to be prepared (food prep & finding a temporary gym) for the trip. I don't remember why, but unfortunately, I missed 3 days at the gym leading up to the trip and missed a pretty important check-in with my coach the Friday that we left. The trip is long (1,400km) and we drive it in one shot, leaving at midnight. That being said, the drive down was pretty easy. I only ended up having only a few (handfuls of) chocolate covered almonds along the way.

We arrived at our first stop and was served homemade macaroni and cheese one night and pizza the next. I couldn’t help myself (sorry Jeni). For the rest of the trip I was a *little* more on track and I was able to get to the gym to put in some workouts. This week was definitely a pretty big setback, and I came out pretty discouraged and disappointed in myself. End August.

September came around and I realized that I was 6 (very short) weeks away from stepping on stage. If no one has ever told you the mental toll that a competition like this (being judged on your physical appearance) plays on oneself, let me tell you… it is a tremendous strain. Wait – that is an understatement. Let me put it this way, if curling 45lb dumbbells is strong, then your mental game better be curling upwards of 75lb or more!

By the end of September, I was putting in between 100 – 140 minutes of cardio a day, as well as, 60 minutes of weights each day, 7 days a week. My meal plan had also changed drastically. Healthy, but drastic.

October 15, 2023, Nicole and I headed out to Grande Prairie, Alberta, by ourselves (thank you so much Jen & Dan) where the competition was held. In preparation I had to shave (bic style) my entire body and got a *shudders* beautiful spray tan - the first in my life. My first base coat of tan was administered Saturday evening shortly after we had checked into our room and my second coat was sprayed on at 4:45 a.m. (thankfully this was a 30 min sleep in from the rest of the week) on Sunday morning.

At 8:20 a.m. I was down in the athlete “staging” area getting my pre-show “pump” on. Lifting some weights, push-ups, sit-ups, etc. At 9:15 a.m., or so, we (all of the competitors) were lined up. Standing behind the stage. Looking back at the last 6.5 months felt a little surreal. This couldn't be real, could it?

Jeni was there, backstage with us, smiling, giving me a thumbs up and asked how I was doing. “Terrified.” I replied. My legs were shaky, nerves and adrenaline taking over. There were guys standing right next to me, guys who were absolutely shredded, all whom I was supposed to compete against. Not only that, but never, have I EVER, in my 36 years of breathing existence, ever liked having my shirt off in front of people. Especially in front of a crowd of people – a crowd of people there to specifically JUDGE my “unshirted” body. It's just not my thing.

“Next contestant, number 92!”

“That’s you – you’re up! Good luck!” Jeni said.

Deep breath, Inhale. Just like I was about to push a 450lb leg press. Exhale. Up the stairs I went. Blinding lights beating down on me. I tried my best not to squint into the brightness of the lights. I could barely make out the edge of the stage.

“Perfect – I’m going to step right off the edge and fall straight onto the judges’ table.” I thought.

I didn’t. I found my ‘X’ and stood on it.

The next thing that ran through my head was, “Ok, you’ve practiced this at least… 10 times. You know the poses.”

45 degrees, chest up, shoulders up and back, right hand on right hip, twist at the waist, face judges. Oh ya! Smile! Don’t forget to smile. Then I heard it – a cute little “Ow owww!” from the crowd. I knew that “ow ow”. That was my “ow ow”. Nicole, out there, somewhere behind the blinding lights, somewhere in the crowd. Looking at me. Proud of me. And that’s all it took. I was confident. I was proud. Of me. I did it. I took a huge freaking step and I fought myself – my doubts, my insecurities, my thoughts of giving up and throwing in the towel. But I never did and I couldn’t help but smile. Who cares what the judges thought. Who cares what the other competitors look like or what they had done to get where they were. No one but me, Nicole and Jeni know where I started and what I had done to get to that point or how hard I worked or what I had sacrificed.

After the posing we had a 15-minute intermission and got to go back to the staging area for more “pumping”, to shake off the nerves, have a chat with the team, go pee, etc. I got to talking with a few of the other competitors, gave complements to those in my categories and basically got to know them a little bit better.

Generally, there was really great comradery between all of the competitors and was really a pretty awesome group of guys. There were a couple who soured the bunch, but it was easy to ignore and not be bothered by them.

After the intermission, we went back behind the stage and lined up for the “final judging”. Same shredded guys, same judges, same me. The nerves were a lot less this time around and I was just happy to be a part of the whole thing. This time around I was even able to give Jeni a couple thumbs up.

“Men’s Final – True Novice” was called. My first class. I was the last to be called out on stage. We had to go through the posing routine again.

“Next contestant, number 92!” Again, up the stairs I went. It went by so fast the second time around. We all stood off to the side of the stage after posing for the final judgment.

“In third place, Men’s True Novice, contestant number 92!”

I stood there stunned. It felt like a few seconds, but in reality was probably only a fraction of a second. Thinking in my head if I had heard the right words, or if I had just imagined or hoped that those were the words over the speakers. Then, in an instant I snapped back to, waved to the crowd and judges and stepped to the 3rd place mark. A bronze medal was placed around my neck and that was that. It didn’t really sink in. "Did I do it? I think I did." I don’t really remember much after that except for walking off of the stage and congratulating the 2nd and 1st place winners.

Right after that, I was around again, lined up on stage for my height class group. I think I was still in shock from the True Novice group because I don’t even really remember being up on stage.

“In second place, Men’s Physique Group B, contestant number 92!”

“Ow oowww!” from the crowd. My Nicole.

I walked to the second place spot, Jeni came out and presented me with my trophy this time, she shook my hand, “I’m proud of you.” She said.

I never imagined, 6.5 months ago, that I would have ever been on that stage, let alone, being handed some hardware. This process has been one of the simplest, most difficult things I have ever done in my life. And I think I loved it.

I can only speak as a male, so I say to any man who reads this – I think that every man, and I don’t care if you are in your 20s, 30s, 70s or anywhere in between, if you can financially afford to do so, this should be one thing that should be on your bucket list. And it should be sooner than later. If you can afford to do so, it shouldn’t be in the new year, or next month, or next Monday – it should be now. Don’t do it to be better, or skinnier, or stronger and more defined than the guy standing next to you. Do it to be better or stronger and healthier that the you you are right now. You and e everyone around you will be so proud of you. And yes, you DO have the time, you just have to be willing to make it.

Thanks for reading.

#my writing #adventure #family #gym #motivation #mentalhealth #mental wellness #mental wellbeing

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

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mini-prompt: the jin family are the ones with an inhuman inheritance

It took Nie Mingjue a while to realize that Meng Yao had gotten the wrong idea about his gifts.

“It’s not that I’m not complimented, Sect Leader,” Meng Yao said, that strained smile that was almost a grimace on his face. “But I really can’t accept something so precious.”

Nie Mingjue frowned down at the set of gold cups. “Precious?” he echoed, not sure what Meng Yao meant – they were only gold, no spirituality to them at all; they were as useless as mud to a proper cultivator. “Don’t be ridiculous. Just take them.”

“I really can’t,” Meng Yao said stubbornly. “Sect Leader, if you would permit me to be frank…”

“Always. I hate dissembling.”

“It’s important to me – that is – I want to earn my place at your side through merit,” Meng Yao said delicately, as if he were saying something awkward. “Not through…anything else.”

“How else would you advance if not through merit?” Nie Mingjue asked, exasperated, and only after Meng Yao’s faced did several changes did he finally get it. “Wait, no! No, no, no! You’ve got the wrong idea entirely – this isn’t a courting gift! I was just being polite!”

“Polite?” Meng Yao echoed, arching his eyebrows. It looked somehow simultaneously graceful and deeply sarcastic. “Sect Leader, you’ve gifted me a dozen pieces in gold over the past two weeks, any time you find them, and I know for a fact that you don’t do that for every deputy.”

“None of my other deputies are you!”

That sounded wrong.

“I meant, in terms of your heritage,” Nie Mingjue said, and Meng Yao’s face was getting stiffer by the moment, insulted, as if Nie Mingjue had said the wrong thing again…oh, wait. “Not your mother. Your father! You’re a Jin, aren’t you?”

Meng Yao’s grimace softened into confusion. “I – that is – I’m not recognized –”

“You’re still a Jin by blood,” Nie Mingjue said. “Everyone knows how Lanling Jin’s special bloodline is drawn to gold, how uncomfortable you are without having a hoard of it around you at all times. We even have to have special rooms for visitors from there, or else they can’t fall asleep. Then next thing you know they’ve found their way to your treasury by sniffing it out…”

He trailed off.

Meng Yao’s face was doing something very strange, but in a different way than earlier.

“…did you not know?” he asked, grimacing when Meng Yao’s tightening lips confirmed it. He’d really put his foot in it this time. “Ah. I’d assumed…I hadn’t realized…forgive me. Does the gold help, at least?”

“…yes,” Meng Yao said, sounding bitter. “Yes, it seems that it does.”

#mdzs #meng yao #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #alt headcanons

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neon-junkie · 3 years ago

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Okay, Tech will never admit to it, but he finds it super sexy when you wear his goggles during the sex.

Especially when they don’t properly fit on your head so every bounce on his cock the goggles are slowly slipping down, which gives him the excuse (as if he needed it) to hold your face.

Take it away! ;3

A little something for you, my love! 1k words, gender-neutral reader, but feminine leaning.

When you first joined the Batch as their mechanic, Tech instantly didn't like you, purely because "why do we need a mechanic? I possess all the skills necessary to keep ourselves, and the Marauder fit for work-" blahblahblah, and in all honesty, you agreed with him, despite his negative way of saying it.

But the GAR has assigned you to this squad, so unless the Sergeant decides to dismiss you, then you're here to stay. (And there's no way that Hunter is going to do that!)

You and Tech have got off on the wrong foot… well, Tech has a grudge against you as he views you as his 'replacement,' but you're simply trying your best to get on with everybody - which you're doing a great job of!

Tech always insists on doing repairs, and it gets to the point that Hunter has to intervene, pull him aside, and chew some sense into him. Tech will sit and sulk, pretending to put his focus into one of his side project, when he's really glaring at you in the corner of his eye like a grumpy child. Wrecker has the nerve to comment that Tech is only jealous, and… let's just say that that argument didn't end well. So, after a few weeks of getting on with your work, you decide to give your friendship with Tech another attempt. To his surprise, you ask for some assistance with soldering the hull of the ship after a crash landing, and Tech jumps at the opportunity. He's only doing it to flex his skills, but hey, maybe this is what you need to bridge the gap!

To Tech's surprise, the only protective gear that you pull on is a pair of thick work gloves (and your overalls, but they're almost always on,) and Tech practically screams at you! He insists that you must wear some form of protective eye gear, despite the fact that you're only soldering tiny wires together on the lowest setting - a job that will take twenty seconds, tops.

Nether the less, Tech rushes off, and soon returns with a spare pair of goggles, a replica of his most beloved ones. You pull them on, despite feeling like a goof ball, and get to work. It doesn't take long for the thought of Tech's goggles to slip from your mind, and you spend most of the day with them on, working as if they're now part of your uniform.

Tech, despite getting on with his work, keeps catching you in the corner of his eye. As smart as he may be, he can't understand why he's feeling the need to loom over you, that is, until you decide to take a break.

After breaking a sweat, you unbutton your overalls, and wrap the sleeves around your waist, leaving your upper half in your tank top, your skin able to breathe at last! Tech's goggles come to rest on your forehead, and you're finally able to give your eyes a good rub after discarding your gloves.

Ah, there it is! The realisation! Tech finally understands why he's been acting so strange towards you, ever since the start. Sure, having his job 'taken away' definitely hurt, but he seemed to be seething purely because you're attractive, and he doesn't know how to proceed with that information. He's spent his entire life around his brothers, Jedi generals, the Kaminoans, and Mandalorian trainers - all of which aren't romanceable, (although that hasn't stopped some of his vode… Commander Cody!)

And then comes along this pretty mechanic, now wearing his goggles, and currently asking him, "what are you staring at, Tech?"

"Oh!" Tech sputters. "I was… well, I noticed that you are having a break, and I was considering doing the same."

"Have a break then, Tech," you shake your head, not understanding why that was such a big decision for Tech.

You two finally have your first, proper, civil conversation on your break, both sharing snacks, and enjoying a mug of caf. The friendship builds from there, and hey-ho, before you know it, you're both in each other's grasp!

It was your idea to keep his goggles on during one of your many intimate moments. They're your goggles now, but you still refer to them as "Tech's spare pair," despite Tech's protests that, "they're a gift, an item to ensure your safety, darling."

You two shouldn't be fooling around whilst attempting to do repairs, but the Batch are out on a supply run, and you two haven't had a moment alone since the other week when you snuck off on Kamino. The Batch totally don't know about your relationship - winkwink!

Overalls are discarded, as well as a certain someone's codpiece, and you can tell that Tech is considering stripping off more armour as you sink down onto his length, seeing as he's burning up at the sight - his darling, still half-dressed in uniform, wearing his goggles, is bouncing on his cock whilst letting out the sweetest sounds that he's ever heard.

"How the kriff do you manage to keep these on?" you laugh as you move your hands up to shift Tech's goggles up onto your forehead, but a sudden hand on your arm stops your movement.

"-Leave them," Tech gasps. His eyes suddenly turn wide after his outburst, and he begins back peddling, "-I mean, that is… if you want to? I find their loose fitting rather attractive… and-"

"-Tech," is all you need to say to shut him up. "I'll leave them on, even if they are slipping down my face."

A firm pair of hands grasp onto your hips, and with caution, Tech rolls you onto your back, his length not slipping from you. "Let me take over then, cyar'ika. Just relax, and enjoy the ride."

>:)

#tbbwriting #the bad batch #tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #tbb tech #tech #tbb #fanfic #star wars #gn!reader #smut #lemons #gender neutral reader

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rendy-a · 3 years ago

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I seriously love your continuation of Aurora’s Pet AU and you got the feel down pat!💕✨

I’m wondering how the Pomefiore Trio would deal with a sweet, unassuming master having a two-faced S/O that acts like an angel in front of them (offering treats and inviting the pets to dates) yet make passive agressive remarks whenever their master isn’t there and it comes to the point they overhear the S/O pull their master aside to make them choose between the S/O and the pet. Would they be appalled and burst in or respect their master’s decision, which ever it may be. For context, the pets have been adopted long before their master and the S/O even dated.

I’m so glad you are enjoying my take on the Pet AU. Here is your request, enjoy!

An Ultimatum with Pomefiore

When you met your S/O, you thought you were just the luckiest person in all of Twisted Wonderland. They showered you with affection and treated your pet like a part of the family, just like you did. You liked to tease your S/O that you’d need to be careful or soon your pet would have a new favorite human! That is why it was so shocking to you when your S/O tearfully told you they felt like an outsider in the family. That your bond with your pet was keeping you from loving them fully. If you want to be a real family, you have to put them first! It is time to make your S/O a priority and get rid of your pet so you can be a proper couple! Your S/O was shouting so loudly, you wondered if your pet had heard…

Vil is too proud to admit that he has heard your fight and is worried about the outcome. That day you chose him at the menagerie over Neige all the other trophy pets was one of the best moments of his life. Now he is waiting to find out if you’ll still choose him. If you don’t…well he just can’t think of what he’ll do.

How does Vil behave in the days following? He is stressfully waiting for you to make your decision but also trying to pretend not to know about it. That doesn’t mean that he is keeping silent though. Conversation is a trophy pet’s weapon. You seem to have many enlightening little chats with Vil over your morning make-up routines or afternoon tea. Maybe next summer we should all take a vacation at a health spa. I’m sure S/O won’t mind, they are always saying how much they care about our health. Not that you’d know that from the way they keep forgetting about your allergy. I’m sure that isn’t because they don’t care enough to remember the little things about you, right master? Is he being as catty as a teenage girl in a high school drama? Yes. Does Vil care? Absolutely not.

At the end of the week, a moving company arrives and starts packing up your S/O’s things; your Ex never sets foot in the house again. You say nothing to Vil about it but you both know what happened. After a week of stress, Vil is finally able to relax again and you can visibly see the tension ease out of his shoulders.

That evening you have a movie marathon; its one of your shared hobbies to watch movies and critique the acting, sets and costumes. Today, Vil has chosen an assortment of movies featuring loyal pets; not a hint of romance at all. During the happy scenes where a pet reunites with their beloved master, Vil reaches over to pat your hand as though to say, Thank you for choosing me master.

Rook is another one that isn’t going to act emotionally. He will quietly observe your reaction to see how you decide to react (your conflicted expression is tres bien!) Unless you specifically ask him about it, he will keep himself from interfering. If you do ask him about your S/O, he will give you surprisingly detailed data.

See, Rook has been very suspicious of your SO from the beginning. He knows what a sweet naïve master he has and thinks of himself as a bit of a protector to you. After that first questionable comment your S/O made while you were gone, Rook has been collecting observations on your S/O. And by collecting observations I mean spying on them in a major way; video, audio recordings, interviews with former classmates, dental records…everything.

When your former S/O comes to pick up their things, they will be escorted out by a smiling Rook. He takes the time to let them know just how much information he has dug up on them and suggests they consider not bothering you in the future if they don’t want those unpleasant details to become public knowledge. Depriving your S/O of their prey was a satisfying game indeed, one Rook was amused to play.

Was Rook concerned you might not have chosen him? No, he knew you’d choose him. After all, you were the kind of odd person to go to a pound and adopt a strange pet like him in the first place. You and I master, make a perfect pair. Our bond is beaute 100%!

As soon as he hears their ultimatum, Epel bursts in and starts yelling at S/O. What do you mean he is in the way of your family? Didn’t S/O always say Epel was like a family member? Was all that a lie? There is no need for you to say anything, Epel will yell every question you could have asked and then some.

Does he keep it to shouting? Only if you are lucky. You better be prepared to hold Epel back like a tiny worked-up chihuahua. He is fully ready to throw down with your S/O! Don’t think he will let S/O get away with saying such hurtful things!

When your S/O starts yelling back at Epel, you get into protective pet-parent mode. Now both you and Epel are shouting at S/O in your countrified speech. Listen here you poor excuse for a horse apple, you ain’t got nothing under your hat but hair if you think I’m getting rid of my sweet Epel! You think we can’t see you lyin’ like a rug, you varmint? Congratulations, your former S/O now thinks you are crazy and will gladly never speak to you again.

Afterwards, expect to need to comfort Epel. He just gets so worried about you leaving him someday; no one understands him like you. He isn’t crying, you’re crying! Give him some hugs and head pats. When he is fully calm, he is going to want to know more about where you get your insults from (and can you teach him some?) Hey master, I guess we just go together like peas and carrots, huh?

#pet au #twst wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #epel felmier #rook hunt #vil schoenheit

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gumnut-logic · 2 years ago

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Gordon glared at his oldest brother. “That’s not fair!”

Scott stared back, surprised.

Irrationally, it made Gordon even angrier. “It’s not fair, Scott, and you know it.”

“Life isn’t fair, Gordon. I know you know that.” It was said calmly and with finality. To top it off, his eldest brother turned his back on him and went back to doing important stuff at their father’s desk.

“You know what? Screw you!”

That at least got a frown out of his brother.

But little more.

With a hiss, Gordon spun on his one good foot and as furiously as he could manage, crutched his way over to the stairs and began hopping down them.

“Gordon, what the hell?! Take the elevator!”

“I don’t care!” It was childish and stupid and he really should apologise, but it was a last straw thing. He had had it. He wanted out, off these crutches, into the pool, away from here!

He almost made it worse by stumbling halfway down the stairs. His brother’s freaked out yell did nothing other than make him feel guilty. But he rescued himself and stormed through the kitchen past a wide-eyed Alan and out onto the pool deck.

Only to be faced by the fact he couldn’t go in the pool which was half the problem in itself.

Well, he could, but he couldn’t swim at any stress relief level.

One stupid broken ankle and everything had gone to shit. He had been stuck here for weeks and there were weeks to go and it reminded him of other weeks of his life that were too many and he was just over it.

The breath he drew in was shaky and had far too much emotion in it for comfort.

He hobbled further out onto the decking. All he wanted was out. But all the paths leading away were gravel and not very crutch friendly.

Screw it. That would be his new maxim. To hell with everything. And he took the first steps along the path towards the nearest beach.

It wasn’t easy going at all. The crutches seemed determined to slip on unstable rock. He nearly faceplanted at least twice within the first dozen metres, but Gordon was a Tracy as much as any of his brothers and pissed off enough to spout determination in a fountain of idiocy.

Idiocy which proved itself not two minutes later when one crutch slipped and he couldn’t recover. One moment his driving force was anger, the next it was fear as his brain flash-calculated the damage that was going to result from falling down the steep incline at his feet.

But there was the equally fast realisation that there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

And he fell.

But he didn’t hit the jagged rock or even fall very far. Instead, strong arms grabbed him and scooped him up with a grunt. A familiar grunt and the scent of aftershave and engine grease.

Virgil.

Gravel, along with his crutches, clattered down the path in echo of where Gordon would have ended up if it wasn’t for his big brother - who had obviously followed him down.

“Uh, thanks, Virg.”

“Uh-huh.”

Gordon stared up at his brother who now had him clutched to his chest as if Gordon was his blushing bride...or something.

“You can put me down now.”

“Uh-uh.”

“What?”

And Virgil began carefully walking down the path towards the beach.

“Virgil, put me down.”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“G Protocol has been engaged.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Because you have reached your limit.”

“Virgil, I’m fine.”

“You told Scott to get screwed.”

“He wasn’t being fair! Alan got the last of the ice cream last time. It was my turn!”

“Exactly.” Virgil stopped at the edge of a small cliff just before the beach proper. Behind them a set of rockets fired and Gordon looked up to see the space elevator disappear into the mountain. “Aw, hell, you called down John?!”

“G Protocol, Gords. You know the deal.”

Gordon sighed. Did he ever. “Go ahead. Put me out of my misery.”

Virgil smiled at him. “That’s the aim.” And chucked him off the cliff.

For Gordon, flipping into diving form was instinctual and while the cliff was a small one, they had jumped off it enough in fun for him to know exactly how much time it took to hit the water.

And water it was.

It took away the sounds of the world in a rush of bubbles.

He didn’t try to surface immediately. He let his momentum carry him deeper, his arms taking the load of the work since one foot wasn’t functioning. Blue enveloped everything and lifted his heart by its mere presence.

Why hadn’t he come here earlier?

He wasn’t surprised when there was a nearby splash and Virgil, stripped down to a t-shirt and his green swim shorts appeared next to him in a less coordinated and much bigger splash, his frown a glaring one letting Gordon know he had hung underwater too long for his brother’s comfort.

Exhaling, Gordon pushed for the surface just as another body hit the water. A body that belonged to his eldest brother.

Scott threw a flotation ring at Gordon. “Use it.” The tone brooked no argument.

Gordon screwed up his face. He hadn’t used one of these stupid things since…the hydrofoil.

He swore under his breath, but shoved it over his head and under his arms like some stupid little kid who couldn’t swim. Admittedly, it took the strain off his arms and legs, but the pink donut for all its novelty brought back more memories of struggle than he really wanted to face right now.

Maybe Virg was right. Maybe he was at his limit.

He swore again, this time enough to earn himself an arched eyebrow from Virgil treading water quite healthily beside him.

Irrational anger at something as simple as that proved beyond doubt that Gordon had blown himself a gasket.

Virgil must have sensed something on that medic radar of his because he reached out and pulled Gordon closer. “Hey, take a deep breath.”

The wet hair in his brother’s eyes and the seawater on his eyelashes only emphasized his kindness.

Damnit.

Gordon wanted to be angry. He wanted to yell at the sky, scream at the injustice of a simple broken ankle.

It wasn’t fair!

Virgil’s hand caught the back of Gordon’s neck, possibly the closest he could get to a hug with the flotation ring in the way. “It wasn’t your fault. Sometimes things…just happen.”

Acute wingman senses. Damn them. Screw everything.

“I’m fine!” He kicked himself away with one pathetic leg.

And got nowhere.

Virgil had let go of his neck, but had a firm hand on the ring. “Virgil, let me go.”

“No.”

“Virgil, I’m warning you.”

“About what?”

“Goddamnit, let go!”

“No.”

He gave his brother’s arm a shove and might as well have tried to move the Island.

So Gordon did what he needed to do and let himself slip below the surface, out of the ring, and away from Virgil.

He didn’t get very far.

He had more than one brother, and while Virgil tended to be a little on the slow side underwater, their eldest brother was fast no matter the medium.

Scott swooped in before Gordon could gain any momentum and caught him around the waist.

But Gordon was a fish and Scott only a bird. Long honed reflexes had his big brother blowing bubbles and Gordon wriggling out of his grip.

Only to have Virgil clamp down on his wrist and yank him back to the surface.

Whereas Gordon had no problem with thumping Scott – they shared military training and a sparring mat on many an occasion – there was something ultimately wrong about raising a fist to Virgil. Almost as bad as doing similar to Allie. He just couldn’t, no matter how pissed.

But he could shove and scream and yell and curse and get grabbed again by Scott and pushed back under the water. With Scott he was free to fight and fight he did. But all Scott did was defend himself, and Gordon was reduced to flailing with more emotion than sense, honestly not wanting to hurt his brother, but just needing to fight against the unfairness.

Eventually, Scott grabbed a wrist, much like Virgil did earlier and dragged him back up for much needed oxygen.

By then there was more saltwater than just seawater on Gordon’s face. Less fight and more need than anything else.

And, of course, Virgil was there.

Again he was grabbed by strong arms, but this time he had no energy to resist. If anything, he welcomed them. Perhaps they could take the weight and the guilt.

If he was sobbing on his brother’s shoulder, he wasn’t going to admit it.

Fingers stroked through wet hair and Virgil repeated over and over again that it hadn’t been his fault. That he had done everything he could. That sometimes shit just happened and this time, unfortunately, it happened to that little girl.

The mention of the one he couldn’t save no matter what he did only had him sobbing harder

She had been so young.

He had tried so hard. Made the sacrifices. Fought for her life.

And lost.

It wasn’t fair.

The sea had claimed her anyway.

Part of him was horrified at his own weakness. Horrified he needed an old protocol that proved he was off his head. Horrified he was crying in his brother’s arms. Horrified that all his military training hadn’t given him enough spine to shake this off by himself.

“It isn’t fair.”

“I know.” Virgil’s voice was ever so soft in his ear.

Gordon swallowed and gathered himself together, trying to align what he felt with what was logical and sensible.

It was like trying to scale a crumbling mountain. It was hard and exhausting and it hurt.

What was meant to be was meant to be. He had to believe that. It was the only way.

Despite the need to wail against the injustice.

Virgil still had his fingers in Gordon’s hair.

He pulled away gently from his brother, looking up into those worried dark eyes. Virgil was hanging onto the flotation ring with one arm. It was the only thing keeping both of them afloat.

Gordon wiped his face with one wet hand and let out a breath.

Off to his left, a slightly bruised cheekbone supported equally worried blue eyes as Scott trod water like he was hovering.

Which he was.

Gordon squeezed Virgil’s arm gently before slipping out of his grip and paddling over to Scott.

A wordless moment and then he was hugging his biggest brother with everything he had.

Scott hugged back even tighter.

Gordon squeezed his eyes shut and clung.

“Hey, Gordo! Johnny’s got something for ya!” Alan’s voice echoed across the caldera like a warning siren.

Gordon let go of Scott and backed off. A glance at both of his brothers before he dove under the water.

He swam down deep into the basin of the caldera, skipping just over the coral edifices. A moment to settle his mind and rebuild himself.

The silence of the deep and the familiarity of his home were a balm.

He knew his time was limited by the worry warts on the surface, so he didn’t dawdle, but he did take the time he needed.

Ocean washed away all the signs of his emotional turmoil.

By the time he resurfaced, whatever was left had been shoved back into its box.

And just as well, because Alan and John stood at the top of the cliff with their arms full of pool toys. A giant pink flamingo, a huge duck, a red rocket ship – where the hell had they bought that from? A green turtle and a pile of pool noodles.

A blink and all the flotation devices were in the water, followed by a bomb by the name of Alan.

Seawater rained over all of them.

The flamingo was washed over towards Gordon and whacked him on the head.

John, dressed in a full body wetsuit providing his necessary gravity support, followed Alan in, but with much more elegance. John was almost as much fish as Gordon, after all.

Gordon grabbed onto the flamingo to save himself the energy of trying the keep afloat. He was suddenly very, very tired.

Alan, being the ball of teen-energy he was, flapped his way over and gave Gordon a hug. “Feeling better now you are in the water?” Innocent blue eyes that truly were far from innocent anymore stared up at him in hope.

“You still stole my ice cream.”

“I’ll buy you some more.”

Gordon narrowed his eyes a little. “Promise.”

“Tracy’s honour. Next time we’re in Aotearoa.”

“How about tomorrow? You and me, Auckland CBD. I’ll even take the hoverchair.”

“Really?”

“If you buy me ice cream.”

“Cool. Can we visit the game arcade?”

“I’ll consider it.” Wouldn’t want to make it too easy for his little brother.

“Mind if I join you?”

Gordon blinked as John appeared beside them.

“You want to spend time with the two of us?” Gordon may have pointed at himself and Alan with a lot of disbelief.

John wasn’t fazed at all. “Sure. Haven’t had a go an arcade for a while. Need to keep my reflexes strong.”

Alan frowned. “You’ll get us kicked out again. There is such a thing as being too good at a thing. Or something.”

Yay for Alan and English. “What he said. But you are welcome. If I can have the flamingo.”

John’s lips curled up at the edges. “It’s yours.”

“And I get the rocket!”

John snorted. “No, that’s Scott’s. You get the pool noodles.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Because you stole Gordon’s ice cream.” With that John turned and dove, disappearing long enough for Gordon to lose his location.

“Hey! That’s not fair.”

Gordon grimaced as he glanced at Scott and Virgil. “Life isn’t fair, Allie.”

“Not fair at all.”

-o-o-o-

Addendum

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #nuttyfic reblog #I need a nutty protocol #went down with yet another migraine today #I'm crawling into bed #possbily rereading this #thank you all for your wonderful support of my craft efforts today and yesterday #hugs the lot of you

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sitp-recs · 4 years ago

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hi :) i simply adore your blog and your fic recs are so spot on, you’ve made me fall back in love with drarry and hp. I rly love reading a fic before I go to sleep but I end up picking a 70k word one and end up staying up much longer than I wanted to so could you possibly recommend me any fics max 15k words, with a happy ending pls i need the cuteness to help me sleep 🥰 Thanku so so much xx

Hi anon! Thanks so much, I’m thrilled to know I had a small part in making you fall back in love with Drarry, that’s amazing! And what a mood lol I used to pick long fics before bed too, it’s a mighty trap 😂 I’ve read many short fics in the last year so I decided to go for these delightful and not-as-popular shorts, with excellent build up and happy endings. Perfect bedtime reads in my opinion! I got a bit too excited with this list so I’ll call it 31 Bedtime Reads! One for each day of the month ;) enjoy!

The Long Fall by @tackytigerfic (2021, M, 3.6k)

It's supposed to be a simple house renovation, and maybe it's just the paint fumes, but Harry is feeling dizzy around Draco Malfoy. And what's the real meaning of family, anyway?

oxygen by @maesterchill (2020, T, 4k)

Draco doesn’t smoke. Except when he needs to breathe.

A Charitable Christmas by Alisanne (2017, E, 5.6k)

Hermione’s plans to raise money for war orphans do not meet with Harry’s approval. Fortunately, Draco steps in to help him come up with a much more enjoyable strategy.

Harmony (Left-Handed Melody Remix) by mindabbles (2010, M, 5.8k)

He is the last person Draco was expecting, but then again, this is not a place Draco ever expected to be.

Vintage by momatu (2017, T, 7k)

Of all of the vineyards, in all of the regions, in all of France, Draco's blasted editor sends him to Potter's...

Our Ordinary Days by Lomonaaeren (2012, M, 8k)

Two men, both fathers of sons, meet in a bookshop. And the rest is the kind of history that doesn't make history.

Ice Snakes, Glow-worms and Wolverine Stew by khalulu (2015, M, 8.4k)

Harry Potter apparently wants to talk to Draco about something, but odd events keep getting in the way of that conversation – and bringing them closer together.

The Page Eleven Wars by fireflavored (2010, E, 8.5k)

In a gossip-hungry post-war Wizarding World, Rita Skeeter has a wildly successful column in the Daily Prophet known as Page Eleven. Naturally, her favourite targets are the poster boys of the two sides of the war: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.

Blind Date by JosephineStone (2016, T, 8.6k)

Draco’s been working with Harry for years when another one of his relationships goes stale. He has to be married within a year, and though the WizNet has burned him in the past, Draco finds a new possibility in man as desperate to marry as he is.

Stories in E Minor by @huldrejenta (2014, E, 8.7k)

Draco has found his place in the Muggle world. He's got his music, he's got his neighbours and he is content. Until a certain someone from the past enters his life again.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (2020, T, 8.8k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

Til Our Compass Stands Still by china_nightingale (2018, M, 9k)

Harry and Draco eventually realise that things don't always go to plan, even if it's a plan they've been carefully crafting to keep themselves safe from each other.

The Interest Here by disapparater (2015, T, 9k)

Draco has his own morning show on the wireless, which he loves; an ambitious assistant, whom he needs; and days in The Tea Shop, where he relaxes. He also has a new caller on the show, whom he finds bloody annoying.

Tidings of Comfort series by @blamebrampton (2012, G, 10k)

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Luckily for Draco Malfoy, London has places where the tired can rest and recover.

Sweet Indulgence by @the-sinking-ship (2020, E, 10k)

It doesn't matter that Marcy from Accounting is dancing on the tables, Shacklebolt is wearing antlers, and Elliot from Transportation is on his third round of Mariah Carey on karaoke because all the free champagne in the world won't salvage the Ministry Christmas party for Draco if Potter doesn't show up soon.

Settle in in my slow-burning heart by orphan_account (2015, NR, 10k)

Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it's all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too.

Adventures in Truth and Texting by @fluxweeed (2020, E, 11k)

Former Death Eaters are being targeted with a Veritaserum curse – it’s permanent, and makes victims speak aloud their every thought. Luckily, it’s easier to control when writing.

fine i'll hold my breath / til i forget it's complicated by teatrolley (2015, NR, 11k)

Harry and Draco become friends with benefits, and Harry thinks it's more complicated than it actually is.

Rebuilding Draco Malfoy by khasael (2011, E, 11k)

Draco wants to do something to get his life back on track, but no-one seems to be taking him seriously – until he finds himself in an Auror training session led by Harry Potter.

Cold Like Fire by QueenofThyme (2012, M, 12k)

Head Auror Harry Potter had no problem with mandatory consent training for his team. He’d actually been looking forward to it, that is, until he discovered who the teacher was.

What’s My Age Again? by @lazywonderlvnd (2018, E, 12k)

Harry Potter has had enough of pleasing the public, and his reckless tendencies are finally getting out of hand.

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken (2020, T, 12k)

What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn.

Kill, Fuck, Marry by @lettersbyelise (2018, E, 12.6k)

Harry and Draco unexpectedly meet again on Draco’s birthday, years after their last encounter.

The Year of Non-Magical Thinking by whiskyandwildflowers (2018, E, 13k)

“I don't know what I'm going to do, Potter. I'll think of something. So will you. But this is my journey to self-actualization," Draco managed to smirk. "You can fuck off and get your own."

Evolution by @potteresque-ire Pie (2013, M, 13k)

Draco Malfoy was condemned to live a Muggle’s life for his three-year probation. His wand was locked away, and he was forbidden to set foot in Wizarding Britain until Hermione Granger secured a job for him in the Aurors’ stock room.

Plan Alphabet by @xx-thedarklord-xx (2019, T, 14k)

After realizing that his feelings for Harry were unfortunately real, Draco embarks on a foolproof—yes, Longbottom, foolproof—plan to woo Potter.

Countdown by dysonrules (2013, M, 14k)

When the Wizarding world is plagued by random outbreaks of Dark Magic, the Ministry assigns Curse-Breakers to assist Auror teams on their missions.

All Roads Lead Home by @dracogotgame (2015, G, 15k)

Draco is strong-armed into spending the first Christmas after the War with the Weasleys. And Harry Potter.

Espresso Patronum by @tasteofshapes (2020, T, 15k)

When Draco reappears five years after the war and opens a wildly popular coffee shop, Harry’s pretty sure that Draco’s Up to Something. He just has to prove it.

An Act of Kindness for One Harry Potter by a Sympathetic Draco Malfoy by 0idontknow0 (2014, E, 15k)

Someone should give Potter a better rogering than that sorry sod had. The man had saved the bloody world—okay, mostly Europe—the least someone could do was give him a proper shag.

Turn and Face the Strange (time may change me) by @punk-rock-yuppie (2019, T, 16k)

Draco and Harry and how their relationship—and themselves—change over the course of eleven years.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #bedtime reads

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itsdanii · 4 years ago

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Kyahhh your rejecting you and regretting series is just so freaking good . Uhmmm idk if you are taking requests right now but can I please request for Ushijima and Kita?Thank you so much!

Rejecting you and regretting it pt. 4

one | two | three | four

Hey, bub. I'm so glad to hear that you've been enjoying my works. Here's your request for the part 4 and final (as of now) part of the rejecting and regretting you series. Have a good day and stay hydrated! ♥️

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: semi-rude behavior (resolved), no cursing in this one because these men drink their respect women juice daily

ft. ushijima wakatoshi, kita shinsuke

title says it all

Kita Shinsuke

Kita is your childhood friend

The moment the two of you were introduced to each other by your grandmothers, you instantly clicked

Same as through with him, you loved spending your time being productive and following a certain routine so it's no question that as you both grew up, you started gaining romantic feelings towards him

You've been thinking of confessing but never really had the chance because he was always busy with volleyball practice

So when you finally managed to get some alone time, you didn't hesitate to voice out your feelings, not knowing that the answer you're hoping for isn't the answer you're going to get

"You're staring again."

You snapped out of your thoughts when Kita stopped infront of you, his eyebrows furrowing as he studied your face.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, uh, yes! I'm sorry. I was just thinking," you answered sheepishly while scratching the back of your head.

You mentally cursed yourself for spacing out on him. This is the only chance you're getting and you can't afford to waste it.

"About what?" Shinsuke asked as you both continued your walk on the way home since you only live apart each other. Plus, his grandma had always told him to never let you walk home alone especially at night.

"Huh?"

"You said you were thinking. About what?" Shinsuke gently tugged at the sleeve of your jacket, changing your positions so that he was closer to the road than you are.

You felt yourself blushing at the small gesture and looked at his hand that was still holding your jacket.

You swallowed the lump forming inside your throat and stopped walking, the act stopping Kita as well due to him holding you.

Kita looked at you worriedly and placed both hands on your shoulders, his head dipping slightly to get a closer look at your face. "Are you oka-"

"You," you answered without focusing your gaze to him. "I've been thinking about you."

When you felt him taking his hands off your shoulders, you immediately looked up. "Sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?"

The look he had is something you can't decipher but if you were to analyze it based on what you can see, it's a look you never wanted to see again.

Silence reigned the two of you, eyes staring at each other as if you're both trying to figure out what the other was thinking.

"No," Kita said, breaking the silence. "But it's best if we don't discuss the issue any further."

At that, he faced forward and continued walking as if nothing happened but as you stared at his back, you realized that somehow, he knew what you were trying to imply.

And the sad part is that he chose to ignore it and act unbothered as if he didn't just indirectly broke your heart.

Once you reached your destination, you faced him with an anxious smile and Kita didn't fail to notice this, as well as your habit of shifting from foot to foot whenever you wanted to say something.

"I like you, Shin," you blurted out nervously, your heart beating erratically and your palms becoming sweaty. "I don't know when it started but suddenly, I just woke up and realized that what I'm feeling towards you is no longer within the range of friendship. It's something more and I just wanted to let you know."

"I am well aware of that but I'm sorry, y/n. I can't return your feelings."

You bit your lower lip to hold in your tears and as much as you wanted to shout at him to accept your confession, you can't just force someone to love you back because it doesn’t work that way.

"Geez, can't you even say it gently?" you said with a forced chuckle. "Don't worry, I won't hold any grudges."

You let out a sigh before looking up at him and Kita was surprised to see that there are no traces of anger. He expected you to lash out but it seemed like he was wrong.

"I'll see you tomorrow then. Don't overwork yourself, okay?" With that, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss on his cheek before turning around to cross the road.

Kita could only stare at you as he watched you enter your household, your figure vanishing from his sight as the door finally closed.

Kita is a practical man.

He knows how to separate what is right from what is wrong.

Because of this, people often see him as someone who's perfect, sometimes even being compared to a robot due to his nature. But Kita is far from perfect, and he knew that.

Because as he laid in his bed that night, he realized that he just made a big, wrong decision, and he had nobody but himself to blame.

Kita didn't know if he should be happy or not. Actually, he should be happy. After all, he just rejected you and still, here you are, walking beside him as you made your way to school.

He kept glancing at you, observing wether you were pretending or not but he knew that it isn't in your nature to be a pretentious person. You've always worn your emotions on your sleeve which made it too easy for people to read you.

"Ah, Shin. You don't have to walk me home later," you said with a sheepish smile. "My friend is actually going to walk me home so.."

"Alright. Be sure to send me a message when you're on the way home." Despite how 'normal' it sounded, Kita was actually feeling something unpleasant inside him. It was a feeling he was well aware of but had never experienced himself.

The day progressed fast. One moment, he was entering his first class and the next, he's already checking wether all the sports equipment were put back in their proper places.

As he walked out of the gym, Kita instinctively brought out his phone to check for any messages, yours to be specific.

"Ya alright, Kita-san?" came Atsumu.

Kita simply nodded and glanced at his phone again before keeping it, disappointment filling him as he realized that you're not planning to message him at all.

Without you to walk home with, Kita decided to join his team mates, yet despite the noise his team naturally carried, Kita's mind was still preoccupied.

He thought of how you must be doing or if you arrived home safely. He thought of how different the things would've turned out if he hadn't rejected you.

He thought of you.

"Isn't that y/n-san?"

Kita's attention immediately went back to Earth, his eyes following the direction Atsumu was pointing at and just like he said, you were indeed at the other side of the road, walking alone while hugging yourself as you shivered ever so slightly.

Without any words, Kita headed towards your direction and his team mates knew better than to interfere. After all, they knew their captain well. It wasn't that hard to notice how off he was today.

"I thought I told you to message me."

You gasped as Kita suddenly appeared beside you, draping his jacket over your shoulder which immediately surrounded you with his familiar scent.

"Sorry, I forgot," you said while tugging at the end of his jacket sleeves.

"Mhm, and you also said that your friend is going to walk you home yet I don't see anyone beside you." Kita said with a serious tone.

"About that..." You scratched the back of your head as you tried to think of any excuses but you knew that lying would be pointless.

"What if someone kidnapped you? Or worse, took advantage of you? You know I don't like you walking alone especially when the sun had already set yet you still did it. Why did you lie?"

You felt like a child being scolded by your mother but instead of taking it the wrong way, you knew that Kita was only looking out for you. It was just ironic that he broke your heart yet still showed his deep concern for your being.

"It's because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," you finally admitted. "I just confessed to you yesterday and I thought thay maybe I might make you uncomfortable if I kept sticking beside you. I didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"What are you talking about?" Kita stopped walking and turned towards you. "You were never an inconvenience and will never be one."

"Sorry, Shin."

"No. I should be the one to apologize. I made a very rash decision yesterday and ended up rejecting you. I thought that having romantic feelings towards someone would just be a waste of time but I came to realize that it isn't a waste of time if its with you," Kita said with a gentle look on his face.

You didn't speak for a few seconds and just let his words sink in, a feeling of hope igniting inside you when you realized what he was trying to say. "Do you mean that?" you asked hopefully.

"Have I ever lied to you?" Seeing you shake your head no, Kita leaned in to press his forehead against yours. "I like you, y/n."

You felt your heart beat picking up with those simple words and without waiting for anything else, you pressed your lips against his.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Being the cousin of Tendou Satori had its perks

And one of those perks is the opportunity to see Ushijima everyday

You are only a year younger than them yet despite that, you get along with the team very well

After all, it had been a part of your daily routine to always visit the school's gym

What you didn't expect, however, was to fall for a certain captain

And you, being one of the most open and honest person, confessed the moment you realized your feelings towards him

And despite being turned down several times already, you still persisted, claiming that you'll do everything to make him fall for you

But sometimes, no matter how hard you try, it just isn't enough

"Where's 'Toshi?" you asked Satori when you entered the gym, flashing a small smile to the others before sitting down on an empty bench.

"Talking to the coach." Satori looked at the plastic you were holding and grinned as he noticed what was inside. "Really, y/n-chan? You know that won't work on Ushiwaka, right?"

You just shrugged and placed the item beside you. "It's worth a try, 'Tori. Who knows? Maybe I'll finally be able to get a reaction out of him."

"Y/n."

You looked behind you upon hearing Wakatoshi. "Hi, Toshi. Did you miss me?" you said and flashed him a bubbly smile.

"You always come here everyday. I do not see any reason for me to miss you," he simply answered before taking a seat beside you, eyes glancing at the carrot stuffed toy before focusing on the court.

Satori, who witnessed the whole exchange, just laughed at you, his eyes squinting as he clutched his stomach in tears. "Well, there's your reaction," he said while still catching his breath.

"You don't have to be so mean, Toshi." You pouted and handed him the stuffed toy you brought.

"What's this for?" he asked in slight confusion while examining the carrot you gave him.

"That's a gift. Haven't you noticed? Its been 8 months since I started courting you." You grinned at him.

"Oh? Y/n's courting captain?" came Tsutomu who was wiping his sweat with a clean towel, eyes glancing at the carrot before he exclaimed, "I want one too!"

"Have it." Your eyes widened when Ushijima handed the carrot stuffed toy to Tsutomu. "I don't need it, and please stop giving me stuff from now on. They are irrelevant."

"I worked hard for that! You don't know how much token I spent just to get that from the claw machine!" You frowned at Wakatoshi and took the toy from Tsutomu who's now obviously confused with what's happening.

"Then I'll pay the amount you spent. Just stop giving me random stuff from now on. I don't need them and I don't have any feelings for you," Ushijima said with a passive voice.

You bowed your head and Satori immediately panicked, his arm reaching out to you but you only recoiled. "You're the worst, Toshi!" you yelled at Ushijima before dropping the toy on the floor and running out of the gym.

All three of them were in shock at your outburst, completely not expecting you to say such thing. You've always been bubbly around them so hearing those words from you was something they never expected coming.

"I think you made y/n mad, Captain," Tsutomu said while picking the carrot and dusting it off.

"But all I did was say the truth," Ushijima reasoned out, eyes focused on Tsutomu who was now hugging the toy that was supposed to be his.

Satori just sighed and turned around to go back practicing.

"Captain?" Tsutomu muttered with a confused look as Ushijima suddenly took the carrot from him.

"It's mine."

For the sixth time of the day, Ushijima glanced at the closed door of the gym.

It had been almost a week and he haven't caught a single glimpse of you. No visits, no 'coincidentally' bumping on each other despite having different floor levels, nor surprised bentos. Nothing. It basically felt as if you don't exist anymore.

He doesn't even know why he seemed bothered with it. Wasn't it him who pushed you away? He should feel relieved now that you were no longer bothering him, right?

Then why did it felt like he was missing you?

"Y/n's not coming," Tendou said beside Ushijima.

"I know. They haven't been visiting lately." Ushijima stared at Tendou seriously, making the red hair chuckle before raising his hands up in surrender.

"I don't have any idea where y/n-chan is. Even if I do, my lips are sealed," Tendou said before making a zipper motion.

Ushijima sighed and looked down at the ball resting between his feet. "I don't like it when they're avoiding me."

"Hm, I can't blame my cousin for doing that though. They've been pining over you for quite a while now and each time they confess, you end up rejecting them. I guess yesterday was their breaking point," Satori explained with a shrug, "Maybe you got used to the feeling of them coming back everytime you reject them that you don't know how to feel now that they stopped chasing you."

"I..like y/n."

Just as he said those words, the gym doors suddenly opened. You entered with your usual bubbly expression, a wrapped bento in hand as you made your way to them.

"I noticed that you weren't carrying your bento awhile ago so I brought it with me," you said as you handed the bento to Satori, not even bothering to spare a glance at Ushijima who was intensely looking at you.

"Y/n," Ushijima said making you turn to him.

"Yes Ushijima-san?"

Ushijima blinked at the mention of his surname. He knew that it was normal for people to call him Ushijima since it was his name but hearing you say it seemed bothering for some reason. He was used to you calling him either Toshi or Waka-kun.

"I like you, y/n," he said without hesitation.

Satori facepalmed at Ushijima's straightforwardness. Deciding to give you both some space, he stood up and walked away with his bento, leaving the two of you to talk.

You sat down and crossed your arms over chest, body facing Wakatoshi as you waited for him to explain and apologize properly.

"I'm sorry for how I acted a few days ago, I was merely being honest that time, but now I realized that I like you too... and I also did not mean to disregard your efforts just to get Mr. Carrot," Ushijima said while slightly scooting closer to you, his hand obviously trying to reach for yours.

"You named the stuff toy Mr. Carrot?" you asked with a raise of an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't need it.."

"That was a mistake. Mr. Carrot is actually sleeping in my bed as of this moment." The side of Ushijima's lips curled up when you giggled, the sound making his heart race.

"I appreciate you trying to be nice to me, Toshi, but you really hurt me back then, you know? I even had to stay away for a couple of days," you said before looking down at your lap to play with your fingers.

Panic started bubbling up inside Ushijima at your sudden silence. Swallowing the lump inside his throat, he asked you carefully, "Do you still like me? I'm really sorry, y/n. I missed your presence inside the gym. It's not the same without you. It's been too... quiet. Please give me another chance."

You lifted your head upon hearing that, clearly not expecting Ushijima to say those words in almost a pleading manner.

Ushijima took your surprised reaction as a cue to continue. He carefully took your hand in his, his hand completely engulfing yours as he intertwined your fingers. "I won't be aggressive towards you anymore. I know you said you hate me and I'm not the best at this kind of things but for you, I'll try."

You pulled your hand away from him, only to quickly wrap your arms around him, the action obviously catching Ushijima off guard. "I never hated you, 'Toshi," you mumbled with your face buried to his chest.

"Does that mean you still like me?" He said as soon as he composed himself, an unusual soft expression forming on his face when he felt you nodding.

You felt yourself melting even more to his touch when he secured an arm around your waist. "I like you so much, 'Toshi," you said as you looked up him.

"I like you too, y/n." With that, Ushijima leaned down to press a lingering kiss on your forehead.

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♥️

a/n: lately, my mind has been filled with wakatoshi ushijima

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wri0thesley · 4 years ago

Text

A Well Rounded Education (2): Grading Boundaries (Fem!Reader x Nanami Kento, 7.5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: the father of one of your students requested a meeting to ask about ways of improving his son’s grades. after working with him for a few weeks, nanami wants to thank you for helping yuji out in his own personal way.

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. oral sex (male on female and female on male), massage, nanami is just a gentleman after toji tbh.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

You oversleep the next morning and for the first time since beginning your work as Gojo’s teaching aid, the other man is at his desk before you manage to rush into the classroom. He’s relaxed, arms behind his head, feet up on the desk – and when he sees you, he gives you a cheery wave and a grin.

“Found this on the floor this morning!” He says to you, using his thumb to flip you something small and round that you only manage to catch through sheer dumb luck. You stare down at the thing you’re cradling in your palm; one of the round buttons from your blouse, that you guess you missed after Toji had left and you’d had to try and pull yourself together.

““S-sorry about that,” you babble, your mind working eighty miles a minute to think of a proper excuse. “I-it got caught on my jacket when I was getting ready to leave last night, I wondered where it had gotten to--”

“How’d the meeting with Tsumiki go?”

“Huh?” You ask, blinking down at the button still, trying to fight the heat that is crawling up your face as you shove the accusing object into the pocket of your neatly tailored jacket. “Oh! It wasn’t Tsumiki. It was Mr Fushiguro, actually. M-Megumi’s father?”

There’s a pause in the air, almost as if it’s rippling with tension. When you look up, Gojo is staring at you, his eyes implacable behind dark lenses.

“I see,” he says. “That’s unusual.”

“I gave him all the paperwork, explained the probation and everything,” you hurry to say, almost tripping over your words. You don’t like the way he’s staring at you, and you find yourself shifting from foot to foot, hoping you don’t look like someone who let their student’s father rail you over their boss’ desk. “Megumi’ll be back in school next week, and hopefully nothing like this will happen again--”

“Mm,” Gojo says. You’ve never heard him sound that serious before, ignoring the chance to poke a little fun. His voice usually pitches and modulates, laughing, before he cracks some kind of inane joke that makes you and half the class wince. “I’ve got a meeting tonight, by the way. I was hoping you’d sit in with me.”

“Please don’t palm off more of your dirty work on me,” you say to him, as you go over to your own little makeshift table in the corner of your room and begin to rifle through your bag for the things you’ll need for the day. “To-- Mr Fushiguro was kind of scary, honestly.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that!” Gojo waves your worries away with a hand, immediately dismissing it. “No, it’s Yuji’s dad – he wants to talk about his grades, I think? I said I don’t think it really matters, and he got really quiet and kind of angry on the phone with me.” Gojo shrugs. Of course Gojo said something like that. You’re not sure Gojo himself has ever worried about something in his life. “Honestly, he’s a. . . businessman type. Very serious! I just want someone to diffuse the tension a bit!” Gojo grins at you. “So you’re my human shield!”

Right.

Far be it for you to think that Gojo might have an educational reason for wanting you to sit in on this meeting. Still . . . you really like Yuji. You know that sometimes his inability to understand things frustrates him – he’s constant energy, and his mind just can’t keep up with the pace of the rest of him. You’d like to help where you can! And you know that Gojo’s probably not going to be able to offer any helpful advice – his classes might work for some kids, and Yuji does really like him, but that’s a boy who would probably benefit from some individualised attention and someone a little quieter.

You don’t like the idea of him with a father who pushes him academically and doesn’t care about his other achievements. Biting your lip, you nod, busying yourself with laying out the pens on your desk and flicking through one of your training books to see if there’s anything about meetings with parents. This one, you think and hope, is definitely not going to end up the same way yesterday’s meeting did.

There’s a kind of nervous energy in Yuji all day. He drops his pen, he shoots you agonised looks until you come over to check his work, and as everyone is milling out to go to lunch, he comes to stand in front of you, kicking his toe on the floor. You smile at him, seeing how he’s vibrating, rocking on the balls of his feet – hoping that the smile might at least calm him down some.

“My Dad’s meeting with Mr Gojo tonight,” Yuji eventually blurts. Without Megumi in class to tamper down some of his more bombastic nature, Yuji’s voice pitches and wavers. “I’m-- Mr Gojo doesn’t care about grades, but my Dad’s like, ‘you should apply yourself more, you have it in you’ and . . . and I guess I’m worried?” He brings a finger to his chin, dwelling on the thought. The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s not usually aware of the idea of ‘worry’ – oh, to be a twelve year old boy!

“I know,” you say, after a proper time has elapsed to make Yuji think you’ve really dwelt on the situation. You reach into your own bag to pull out the carefully prepared lunch you have in there – you could go to the staff-room, but honestly, you’re still feeling a bit wobbly after last night’s events and you don’t want to go around into the hum of people who’ll gather you up into bubbles of small talk. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sitting in on the meeting too.” You hope your smile is reassuring. “It’s not going to be all doom and gloom, I promise.”

That actually . . . does seem to soothe Yuji.

“My grades are really bad,” he says. “I just . . . I’m not smart, y’know? Megumi knows all this stuff, and I’m just . . . dumb.”

“Being good at school stuff isn’t everything,” you say to Yuji. “You’ve got your own talents. Look at you on the sports field!” He blushes in the way young boys do when they’re being complimented by anybody, a kind of awkward ‘oh, shucks, don’t make me think that I’m good at anything’. You smile. “I’m sure your Dad understands that too.”

“Oh, he does!” Yuji’s eyes widen. You feel a little lock around your chest loosen, just a bit. There’s hero worship clear in Yuji’s eyes now. “He just thinks I should live up to my . . . what’s he call it? Full potential!” He twists his lip, and then leans in, conspiratorially. “He doesn’t like Mr Gojo. He doesn’t think he’s serious.”

Despite yourself, your lips curve into a smile. You aren’t going to trash talk your colleague to a kid that you’re in charge of, but all of the other staff just seem to roll their eyes and let Satoru Gojo get on with whatever he’s doing because apparently he was a prodigy at college or something. It’s nice to know at least someone is on your side, even if you’ll hopefully only ever see him once or twice during your whole year here.

“Don’t worry,” you say to Yuji. “I’ll try and handle it. Now, you should go! All the other boys look like they’re about to play a game of football--”

Yuji’s eyes brighten and he grins, turning away immediately, mind quickly flitting to something more pressing. He shouts a goodbye and a thank you to you even as he’s racing out of the door, almost too fast to be believed.

Kento Nanami (Itadori is his ex-wife’s name, he tells you with a sigh, but the name that Yuji was born with and he’s reluctant to have it changed) is very obviously a businessman, in a well-pressed grey suit and a navy shirt, a yellow tie tight to his throat. He’s wearing suspenders beneath the jacket, an expensive watch on his wrist, and a pair of small glasses perched on a sharp nose. A solemn face, sculpted jaw. He has cheekbones that you think could cut fucking diamonds into pieces, a wave of carefully styled blonde hair over a proud forehead--

What the fuck is going on at this school that it seems like all of the dads are so hot? You do your level best not to look at him too much, as Gojo introduces you and he shakes your hand. He looks at you with his eyes narrowed just a touch; you think he’s trying to get the measure of you, and whether you’re just going to be here to back up Gojo. There’s an air of tiredness to this man that suggests he will not take any of your colleague’s nonsense, and that thought bolsters you when he puts down his briefcase and neatly folds his hands on his lap, looking from you to Gojo.

“I want to talk about Yuji’s grades,” he says, “and how we can help him improve them.”

You like him already. The way he says ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ – the withering gaze that he sets on Gojo, as the white-haired man stretches his arms out above him.

“I told you on the phone,” Gojo says. “They’re just grades--”

“Grades that will follow Yuji throughout his career in this school, and eventually to high school, and eventually to college,” Nanami’s voice is very sure of itself, cutting through Gojo with ease. “I just want to ensure that he has the best chance possible. I want to make sure he’s living up to himself.”

Gojo – fucking Gojo – stifles a yawn behind his hand, and you see that Nanami’s hand flexes on his thigh (wow, his hands are big). You cut across before the two of them can come to blows.

“Yuji’s a bright boy,” you say. “He just needs . . . a little extra help. Someone to sit with him and explain what’s going on, maybe just go over the material again.” You give Nanami a nervous smile. “He’s not the only one in the class, honestly. I-- Mr Gojo’s teaching methods can be--”

“Innovative—” (Gojo says).

“Erratic—” (Nanami says).

“Unusual,” you decide on, in the end, “and not every child is going to thrive.”

“He won’t let me ask them to move into Miss Utahime’s class,” Nanami says, wearily. “Yuji is very fond of Mr Gojo.”

(You know that, and so does Gojo; the white-haired man gives a cocky grin to both of you).

“I enjoy teaching Yuji,” you say. “He’s good-hearted, enthusiastic – he throws himself into everything he does.” Nanami’s tired eyes seem to brighten behind the glasses at the compliment to his son, his lips lifting at the corners in the briefest twitch of a smile.

“He does,” Nanami says, and it’s clear from his tone that he’s very proud of Yuji. You feel bad for thinking he might be the kind of pushy, demanding father that you’d been warned you may encounter in this profession. With Nanami in front of you, it’s clear he just wants the best for Yuji and is concerned that Gojo might not be that ‘best’. You can’t blame him. You often think Gojo behaves more like a child than half of the kids in the class. “Yes, those are all of his best qualities.”

You nervously shift your gaze to Gojo, who is waiting for your next move.

“I’d be happy to work with him,” you say, eventually. “Maybe set up some kind of . . . drop-in, for students having trouble with the work, over free periods? I won’t make them, of course, but . . . I think my methods and Mr Gojo’s are very different, Sir.”

Nanami’s shoulders relax just a touch. He stands, nodding, taking your hand to shake it.

“I don’t doubt it, Miss,” he says – and as he touches you, a frisson of electricity seems to pass between the two of you. His hands are big and surprisingly soft, and as he grasps your hand you can suddenly sense strength behind the grasp. You hope that your surprise doesn’t register in your face, as he turns and inclines his head slightly at Gojo (Gojo does not get a handshake, you do not fail to notice).

“I hope that it helps,” Nanami says, as he leaves. And honestly . . . you do too.

Nanami asks to schedule a meeting with you, two weeks after you’ve begun working with some of the lower-achieving children in the class. Yuji’s grades have been improving, slowly and steadily – the boy looking at you with a grin when tests are handed back with letters far higher up in the alphabet than he’s used to getting.

“Ah, I can leave you to deal with that one,” Gojo says, grinning at you when he hears about it. “You’re the one working miracles, after all! I think Mr Nanami would just be displeased to see me sat with you, and I’m not gonna complain about not having to deal with a guy like that!”

You’re inclined to agree. So you watch Gojo leave that afternoon blithely, like he hasn’t got a care in the world – his bag is full of essays that need to be marked over the weekend, but somehow you think you’ll have a stack pressed into your own hands on Monday morning, more than a little crumpled, as Gojo insists you should get used to doing some marking yourself.

You wait for Nanami with your head in a book, steadfastly ignoring Gojo’s desk and sitting by your own table in the corner of the classroom instead. Last time you were alone with a student’s father in this room, you got to know that desk far too intimately.

Nanami is exactly on time, the second hand of the clock just ticking past the twelve as he knocks on the door and you call for him to come in. Gojo does have an office, and he’s said you can use that if you want – but the few times you’ve been in Gojo’s office, you’ve been overwhelmed by the chaotic mess that the man surrounds himself with. The classroom, if nothing else, at least looks peaceful.

Nanami sits across your table, well-mannered and polite, as you put your book down and smile.

“You wanted to talk about how Yuji’s doing?” You ask him. “It’s only been two weeks, but I think we can already see quite a bit of improvement--”

“Yes,” he says. “I think we can.”

Nanami does not heap you with praise; you get the impression that he’s not the kind of man who heaps anybody with praise. You get the impression he’s the kind of man who gives you an approving look, a pat on the shoulder, a nod – you find that you’re craving that approval yourself, looking at him across from you.

“I look at his homework sometimes,” Nanami says. “He’s getting a lot more of it himself, now. Not pulling his hair out at the dining table. You’re . . . you’re really doing a very good job, you know.”

Your insides fizz at the compliment. Gojo doesn’t give them out, either – but you’re the kind of person who occasionally needs to be told they’re doing the right thing, in order to motivate them to carry on. Nanami’s compliment carries a weight in your heart that lodges there like a secret.

You can’t remember the last time someone said you were doing a good job.

You and Nanami talk through the grading rubric, the other topics that are set to be covered before the end of term – how you’re trying to get Gojo to be a little more academic in his lessons, but it’s not working. You mention that lots of the other kids seem to be thriving under having a chance to go back over the material that your mentor occasionally skips and side-steps around, imparting his knowledge in his own particular way. Thoughts of Gojo make your mind swim with fatigue.

You hadn’t realised, until you started talking about it, but you also can’t remember your mind not being consumed by thoughts of your work at any point in the last few weeks. You’re always worrying about something; your mind always rushing from one possible bad outcome to the next. The kids, your training, Gojo, the school, the heavy weight of choosing a career where the next generation depends on you--

“You look tired,” Nanami says, his face twisted in sympathy. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

You haven’t, really – thoughts of the class, and your work, and whether you’re even cut out for this as a career have been haunting you more and more recently, as you watch Gojo stumble irresponsibly from day to day. You feel like you get home, do some work for the next day, go to sleep, and immediately go to work again with nothing in between. You look at Nanami, who’s all concern, and you know you shouldn’t, but--

“I’m just getting stressed from everything happening all at once,” you say, forcing yourself to smile. “I have a lot of assessments coming up, reports I should be writing, reports that are written about me. Ah, those ones-- those are by Mr Gojo--”

“Ahh,” he looks incredibly sympathetic at that one.

“There’s just,” you falter. “A lot. And if I don’t come to work feeling my best and supporting them all, I feel like I’m letting the kids down, but I also just feel kind of bone-weary aching all of the time—”

Nanami’s hand reaches across the table, taking ahold of yours. His palms are warm and rough, and the thumb that rubs soothing circles against the base of your own is comforting. You sigh, eyelids half flickering closed.

“I shouldn’t have said anything to you,” you murmur, the small moment of intimacy (when you’ve spent the last two weeks feeling like you’re lurching from place to place and nobody is paying attention) sending a much-needed hit of comfort to the marrow of your bones. “You shouldn’t have to listen to my problems.”

Nanami’s lips tilt.

“I’d say it’s the least I could do,” he says, drily, “after everything you’ve done for Yuji – and after you’ve had to deal with Mr Gojo.” The look he gives you is quietly private, a shared in-joke between the two of you that makes you smile in response. His response almost makes you forget that he’s touching you, and though the touch is innocuous, you also know it’s unprofessional--

You stare at his hand on yours. It’s the same arm that he wears his expensive wristwatch on, and the sleeve of his suit jacket has ridden up to reveal just a hint of the shape beneath, a prominently veined wrist. Your throat goes dry looking at it, as you think of how strong he had seemed that time he’d shook your hand--

He’s looking at where the two of you are touching, too – a faint spot of red fading in high on his cheekbones. He coughs, awkward, but doesn’t move his hand. He swallows.

“You’re very pretty, you know,” Nanami says, and your body seems to flood with heat. You should say something about how inappropriate that is, thank him for coming to see you and the sweet words he’d said about how you were helping Yuji along, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to do it when he’s looking at you like that. “It sounds very hypocritical coming from me, because anyone who knows me will tell you that I don’t get enough of it myself– but you should rest more. Relax.”

You can imagine him ramrod straight behind a desk, eyes narrowed behind spreadsheets and numbers. You can definitely imagine him tired and drooping, working too hard. You smile again, helplessly, the look apologetic. You’re not very good at things like that.

“You look stiff,” he says. “Here--”

He stands. You’d forgotten how tall he was, the breadth of him – he unbuttons his jacket neatly, laying it over the back of the chair. Without that, the width of his shoulders is really apparent. You don’t realise you’re staring until he makes a little noise, a ‘hmph’ of amusement, eyes not meeting yours, thumbs unbuttoning his cuffs and pushing the sleeves up to his elbows.

He’s behind you.

“I’ve been told I’m good at this,” he says. “Big hands, I suppose?”

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when those same big hands are suddenly on your shoulders, the same thumbs that were just rubbing tender circles onto your hand digging into your shoulder-blades in a massage that you feel down to your toes. You don’t realise you’ve let out a noise and relaxed back into the massage until Nanami lets out a low hum that you think is mirth.

The noise you make as he works out that persistent knot in the back of your neck is near-on pornographic, and both of you know it – heat rushing to your face, Nanami clearing his throat. If somebody walking by had heard that – if they came into the classroom, to see you getting a massage from Yuji’s father--

How do you keep getting into these situations? Nobody warned you about this part of working in a school. Why do his hands feel so fucking good on you, fingers digging into your skin – you moan again, rolling back into his touch.

There’s a clipped quality to his voice when he speaks;

“Wait a second.” Your eyes flutter open as his hands leave you, watching in distress as he walks to the door. If you’re expecting him to leave, you’re surprised when what actually happens is that he twists the lock, so nobody can walk in on the two of you doing something so. . . incongruous with both the classroom around you and the knowledge of what exactly the relationship between you is.

He gives you another one of those half-smiles and you feel a familiar throb in your lower half. Oh, this is unfair – he’s so handsome, so unruffled, so gentle as he takes back his position behind you and touches you again.

“This would feel better on your bare skin,” he murmurs, the words ghosting along you as a politely worded request, and obediently your fingers deftly unbutton your blouse without hesitation. This time, you’re glad that there’s no clatter of lost buttons on the floor – this time, you’re able to push it off your shoulders yourself. Nanami sighs as you let the fabric drop, pooling behind you in a crumpled mess. One of his fingertips traces your spine, raising gooseflesh on the sensitive skin.

“Don’t you have someone at home to do this for you?” He asks, voice soft and low like velvet, as he kneads the skin, tension draining out of you more and more with each passing minute. The question is worded carefully, but both of you know what he’s asking.

“Just me,” you say, as his hands slide forward, thumbs digging into your shoulders but fingers resting over your collarbone, his hands so big on you.

“Pity,” Nanami breathes, but it doesn’t sound like he’s particularly unhappy about it. Your breath catches as he moves from your shoulders, further, further, fingertips brushing the swell of your breast in your (sensible, today) bra. He leans forward, his lips against the shell of your ear. “You can tell me to stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” you find yourself saying, and his thin lips curve into a smile that you feel.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs – and then, fingers diving beneath the cups of the bra, kneading the soft flesh, the plush of your body. You’re relaxing bonelessly into his touch when one finger brushes your nipple, sending a frisson of electricity right to the place between your thighs. Your bra straps are slipped off your shoulders, a slight lean forward so he can unclip the thing and let it fall onto the ground. Nanami sighs, almost reverent – when he moves his hand from your chest, you feel their absence keenly, a soft noise of dismay escaping you.

“Pull your chair out,” he says. You do; the legs scraping across the floor. Nanami himself moves so he’s no longer behind you, coming around to the front – casually, unhurriedly lowering himself to his knees in front of you. He reaches up to his face and removes his glasses, laying them neatly on the table to one side of him.

His eyes drink you in and you find your skin prickling with heat. You should be embarrassed; you shouldn’t be here at all, actually, alone in your classroom (again!) with someone’s father (again!), willing to let them look at you and touch you and more (again!). But Nanami reaches in, touching you so gently, fingertips and thumbs delicate as feathers as he strokes over your breast and waist and stomach. As he leans forward and licks a slow, agonising lap over your nipple until it hardens and pebbles, your entire body thrumming with desire. As he sucks it into his mouth, teeth nipping just hard enough at the bud that your body lights on fire, before he kisses a line across your sternum to give the other nipple the same treatment.

He slides his hands past your waist, unbuttoning and unzipping your pencil skirt with one hand, the cotton pulled down over your thighs. Nanami sighs again, cupping your hips, nudging your stockinged knee with his cheek.

“You’re lovely,” he says, affectionate, and it feels so intimate that your heart beats too fast against your chest. “Can I--?” Hands against the sides of your underwear, sliding over you in a way that leaves hot trails of fire behind him. You should be embarrassed that he can clearly see the wet patch, the way the sodden fabric clings to the petals of your sex – but when he’s looking at you like that. . . You can’t make yourself feel it. You nod, sighing, lifting your hips from the seat of the chair to assist in the removal of that particular garment. A light touch on your inner thighs has you spreading your legs further for him, his eyes drinking in the slick folds, the needy glint of your wetness.

He brings his face closer, taking a long breath in, inhaling your scent. The wash of his breath across you on the exhale fans across the length of you, your clit aching with need to be touched, paid attention to. Nanami takes his time, though – your thighs are kissed, first, his lips lingering on the soft skin, suckling gentle love-bites into the flesh. Occasionally, the briefest flash of his teeth, scraping across the sensitive area – always followed by a soothe, a kiss, a lick. Every one of them makes your body bloom into warm needy desire; you can feel how wet you are, know it must be soaking the chair beneath you even before Nanami has used his mouth on you properly.

He huffs out a chuckle as you whine, your hips tilting towards his mouth.

“You want me to use my mouth?” He asks you, his tongue gently lapping at one of the places he’s kissed. “On you, sweetheart?”

“Mm—mmhmm,” you say, breathlessly, not entirely sure that your mind is able to form any coherent sentences with Nanami knelt between your thighs. He places a chaste kiss on the mound above your clit, pulling back.

“Use your words,” he encourages you. There’s a stern dominance to him; coated in fondness, yes, but . . . an order, nonetheless. “I can make you feel so good--”

“Please use your mouth on me,” you whimper, soft as a mouse. Your hand flexes onto the seat of the chair beneath your thighs, and Nanami smiles against your soaking cunt.

“Good girl,” he praises, like liquid honey – and when his tongue finally, finally makes contact with your sex, the other hand has no choice but to curl into his hair as you let out a needy mewl, all of the heat that’s been building up within you since the very first moment you laid eyes on Kento Nanami coming to a point in the crux of his lips and tongue lapping hungrily at your slick.

Your lashes flutter closed, your thighs trembling, as Nanami sates himself on the taste of you, making you relax helplessly into his talented mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing; the flat, broad strokes against the folds of your cunt, the lower dip of his tongue as he flirts with stretching your hole open with it, the teasing flick of it as it dances, dallies with the idea of your swollen clit.

You can hear the wet sounds of him between your legs, suckling and kissing and licking and lapping – not all of it’s from your slickness, you know, but an embarrassing amount of it is. His tongue pushes into your hole, thrusting a few times, imitating the actions of fingers or cock – and your thighs flex, almost squeezing him between them, your fingers tugging on his hair with a soft squeal of surprise escaping you.

The noise just spurs him on. He fucks you on his tongue for a few more thrusts, before dragging the flat of the muscle through your folds, forcefully parting them (his mouth feels so hot, there), until he can reach the throb of your clit. He uses his tongue to roll the bud, swirling the tip of the muscle around it, drawing patterns over the place that all of your hot, desperate need is concentrated. Your other hand jerks into his hair too, your hips thrusting against his hungry mouth as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. You almost white out for a minute over the sheer overwhelming sensation of Nanami’s lips sucking on you, the displacement of air – you’re panting out breathy, whimpering noises, Nanami groaning as he edges you further and further towards your peak.

Fingers on your inner thigh. Nanami’s index finger, liberally coating itself in your slick and Nanami’s spit, dragging down the length of you that isn’t currently being utterly ravaged by Nanami’s lips--

He pushes one lone finger into your entrance, and that pushes you over the edge.

Your walls flutter around him, sucking him deeper inside your plush walls. You bite so hard into your lower lip you think that you might bleed, but it only serves to quiet the moan that escapes you by a little. Nanami groans against you, pumping the finger, sucking on your clit, guiding you over the peaks and mounds of your orgasm as he continues to enjoy the taste of you gushing into his mouth, overwhelming with the syrupy sweet stickiness of just how good you taste.

He guides you, too – with careful, slowing licks, lazier pumps – through the weak aftershocks and trembles of your peak, as they come to a slowly twitching halt. Your eyes are glassy, lips swollen from bits, as he places another chaste kiss over your sensitive clit and pulls back. His finger pops out of you with a wet gush that makes you feel so embarrassed at your own neediness you can barely stand it, but between your thighs Nanami is straightening up, a smug glint to his tired eyes.

“There,” he murmurs, standing, drinking in your quivering body, the slick on your thighs, how dark and satisfied your eyes look as you gaze up at him, half-woozy from the pleasure. “Don’t you feel a little more relaxed, now?”

You’re afraid if you speak you will simply slur your words, your tongue feeling unfamiliar in your mouth. You try and focus on Nanami instead – unfairly tranquil, aside from the wet of his chin, the damp spot darkening his collar. He places the finger that was formerly buried inside you into his mouth, the glint of arousal on it consumed by him with a tilt of the head as if he’s savouring the taste.

You can’t help but notice that there’s an outline of something putting pressure on the fabric of his slacks, there, between his thighs – something that looks hard, and stiff, and uncomfortable. You blink at it through a hazy mind as Nanami goes leans over you, gently taking hold of your chin, checking that you’re alright.

“C-can I help with that?” You manage, only a little bit garbled. Nanami’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a light pink flush to his cheeks – what does he take you for? That you’d let him eat you out so well that your toes curl and then just let him leave without seeing to his own issues?

(It’s a confidence boost, honestly – knowing that he’s hard because of you. You know that this isn’t the kind of man who would fuck you on his tongue in his son’s classroom if he didn’t find you attractive, but still . . . Someone like Nanami, with those cheekbones and those lips and those shoulders, wanting somebody like you?)

“I-- ahh--” He seems nervous about it, a little flustered, clearly not expecting you to offer something like that – but then, you raise one hazy hand and gently pet his crotch through the fabric and he whistles through his teeth, the organ giving a welcoming throb beneath your hand. You swallow at how it responds, the size and heat of it.

“Please?” Plump lower lip caught between your teeth. “I’d like to repay the favour.”

He swallows, raising a hand to loosen his tie. You see the bob of his throat as he moves, pulling out the chair he was sat on before, parting his own knees.

“I’d like that,” he says, and that’s all of the encouragement you need to sink from the chair onto your shaking knees, half-crawl towards him until you’re situated between his thighs. Your hands reach up to his waist, undoing his belt buckle carefully. The heat of his cock radiates through the fabric, brushing against your arm as you undo the belt. As you undo the button. As you tug at the zipper, the noise of the teeth indecently loud. He sighs himself, a hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so pretty,” he says, repeating his earlier compliment. His eyes on your face make you feel hot and flushed, the way he watches you eagle-sharp as your smaller hands reach into his underwear to pull out his already hard cock.

He’s not as big as Toji was, but that doesn’t mean he’s not big. His cock is elegant, a light upward curve, the head ruddy pink and slick with precome – and as you lean forward and let your tongue trace the slit of it, as you taste that same precome in your mouth, he groans quietly. He brings the hand not on your cheek up to his mouth to muffle the noise, and you can’t help but pout.

“Please,” you say. “I want to hear you--”

A pause. He drops his hand, taking a chest-deep breath. His fingers slide across the apple of your cheeks – you know he must be able to sense how warm you are, how shameless and brazen you feel.

You give the head of his cock dainty kitten licks, getting used to feel of him – getting used to the soft breaths he keeps making, the way that the hand on your cheek moves to knit into your hair. You know you’re teasing him, but the way he looks down at you like you’re the one doing him a favour has you all giddy and light headed.

You envelope the head in your waiting mouth, tongue messily lapping at it. It’s been a long time since you’ve done something like this – judging from the sigh escaping Nanami’s lips, the light thrust of his hips, though, you’re not doing too bad of a job on it.

You take him a little further, willing your mouth to open wider. Your tongue is still moving against him sloppily – tracing the veins of his shaft, licking fat stripes where you can manage to get it around. You feel a trickle of drool escape your lips as you widen your mouth a bit more, so much you can feel a light ache in your jaw.

“Fuck,” Nanami breathes, deep and ragged. “Fuck, that’s a good girl.”

The praise just eggs you on further, makes you want to take him deeper – makes you want to win more noises said by that dark, low voice. You push too far and have to pull back a little, your makeup smearing (you’re glad you’d foregone a darker lipstick today), your eyes watering. But you’re determined, and after you’ve managed to draw a choked breath around the cock in your mouth, you’re back on it, kissing and sucking and licking as best you can. Every so often, Nanami will groan from above you, his hips jerking, the hand in your hair guiding you just a little to the left. The other hand comes to cradle your face, so tender and careful with you.

“You feel so good,” he says, soft, like he can barely believe where you are. “Your mouth is so good, sweetheart--”

The flat of your tongue is dragged over the slit, his taste flooding your senses. You squeeze your thighs together, the friction thrilling even considering how slick your cunt still is (you’re grateful that your skirt is dark, because you know you must have soaked through your underwear).

His hips are moving more regularly now, but you can tell that he’s still holding back – that he doesn’t want to roughly fuck your throat, though he easily could. You look up at him with your eyes dark and wide, your lashes trembling, trying to get across that it’s alright for him to do that without having to stop hungrily licking and sucking at his cock. He sees your gaze, your lips wrapped around him, your cheeks hollowed in your attempts to impress, and he breathes out a shaking exhale.

“Is it really okay?” He asks you. “I don’t want to hurt you--”

You hum your affirmative around his cock and his eyes roll back into his head for just a moment, groan escaping his parted lips again, as he begins to rock his hips into your mouth. You gag around it at first – so big, so thick, even though he’s not going that fast yet – but as he begins to pick up his pace, your mouth gets used to moving in tandem with his thrusts and the tugs on your hair.

The ache in your jaw begins to be pleasant; you begin to feel like you’re meant to have it open that wide, that the bump of his cockhead against the back of your throat is right and perfect. His face is flushing, his breath getting shaky – whistling in his chest.

His chest. You stare at the bare collar above the buttons of his shirt, the lean shadows of his collarbone – you think, judging by the broadness of his shoulders, he’s probably built beneath there. You’d love to find out. You’d love to be somewhere other than in the classroom with this man, somewhere where you could learn his body by heart, where the floor beneath your knees isn’t quite so hard--

“Fuck,” he hisses, fingers tightening so hard that you groan, your throat vibrating around his cock. “Sweetheart, my good girl, I’m gonna--”

You hear the warning in his voice and you suck harder, swirl your tongue faster, coaxing him forward – his abdomen flexes under the shirt, his cock juddering in your mouth, pulsing as your mouth suddenly fills with the hot, wet, salty and unmistakable taste of Nanami’s come--

You keep sucking. You keep licking, swallowing pump after pump, draining forth every single drop of his release that you can until he’s shuddering and his cock is softening, his head thrown over the back of the chair to reveal the tempting column of his throat.

He’s taking deep breaths, great heaving ones that his shoulders move in time with, as the last few thunderbolts of his release travel through his body and he groans in the pleasured way that someone who has orgasmed their worries away does.

Nanami’s hand in your hair eases, his breaths evening out from the shakes and groans. His fingers are quiet and affectionate, as you pull back, swallowing the final few drops of his release. He looks down at you with those intense eyes half-lidded, his face briefly free of lines and stress and worry. He sighs, hand diving into the jacket still hung on the chair behind him – when the hand emerges, he’s holding a handkerchief, that he brings up to your face like a lover.

Tenderly, he wipes a bead of his come from the corner of your mouth. The action is so warm, so fond, that you can barely breathe for looking up at him. You feel like you’re knelt at some kind of altar – that Nanami had prayed to you, and now you are responding with your own supplication.

“Are you alright?” He asks you. “Your knees? Your mouth?” He’s so gorgeous; unfairly picked out under the classroom lights, like he doesn’t belong here at all. In another world, he’s avenging like an angel with a weapon in his hand. Now, he’s softly rumpled with his shirt unbuttoned and one of his suspenders fallen down his shoulder, his knees spread wide.

“Yes,” you breathe. He smiles again – he does not grin. His mouth is just a light uptilt, as he leans forward and brushes his lips over your own.

“Good girl,” he murmurs again, the words sending another shiver down your spine. “Do you need some help getting dressed?”

You rise onto unsteady legs and Nanami is there, supporting you carefully, rising with you. He rescues your skirt, your bra – deft fingers re-doing buttons, catching eyes with hooks, zipping up until you look – if not immaculate – at least presentable. Someone who had seen you this morning would probably recognise that your skirt is creased and your blouse is crumpled, that your hair is falling around your face--

Nanami’s fingers capture those strands too, tucking them back behind your ear, smoothing them out. Every single sweep and caress of his fingers makes you feel like you’re about to break into pieces from how soft you feel, how cherished. It’s a stark difference to how you had felt after Toji had swung out of your classroom, leaving you prone and leaking his come.

He leaves you, after you’ve regained your balance, to get your bag and coat, to grab the book you had been reading before this meeting had commenced – and he sets himself to rights with a calm, assured aura. If someone looked closely at him, you think perhaps they’d notice the tie not quite as tight, the hair not quite as neatly swept from his brow – you yourself can barely take your eyes off him. Is there something in the water in this town?

He grasps his briefcase, clips his glasses into the top pocket of his suit jacket instead of placing them back on his nose. His entire being seems to have lost tension, his eyes not quite as tired, his shoulders not quite as strained. As he finished, he comes to stand beside you – an arm gallantly curving around your waist just loosely enough that the touch could be read as friendly and not romantic. As the two of you walk across the classroom, he says quietly;

“You really should relax, you know. You don’t have anything to worry about. Yuji adores you, and I’m sure the rest of the children do too.”

(Your cheeks heat, the compliment warm and convincing in the sonorous bass of Nanami’s voice).

“Even Gojo isn’t permanent,” he says. “Anybody would be lucky to end up with you.” A cough. “That’s . . . as a teacher and in other ways.”

He pauses at the door, unlocking it with a final click that feels like he is saying that this little adventure has truly come to its natural end. His eyes linger affectionately on your face, a brief touch of hesitation colouring his features – before, once more, he leans in and brushes his lips against yours with a feather-soft touch that has you gasping in surprise against his mouth. The hand not on the briefcase takes your own hand, fingers entangling, and if you had thought your face was warm before, you’re quickly taught that you didn’t know what heat was.

He draws back a little breathlessly.

“I hope you’ll continue working with Yuji,” he says, sincerely. “And perhaps, if it’s agreeable to you-- perhaps we could schedule a catch-up meeting in a few weeks? So I may see. . . how things are progressing?”

“Of course, Sir,” you say, words very breathy.

When you get home tonight, and probably for the next few weeks, you’ll take a really good look at the grading rubric. You know. For the kids. Not because of Nanami’s sharp cheekbones and wicked tongue and the glint that had been in his eye when he had pressed his mouth against your heated core – not because of how his cock had felt heavy and thick in your mouth, and how it would feel pressed inside of you--

Nope. Not at all.

Definitely for Nanami’s son.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #jjk x reader #afab reader #fem pronouns #writing #jjk teacher aid au #jjk writing tag

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seiyasabi · 4 years ago

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A Shifter’s Dream

(This is a Yandere Bunny-Shifter N’Doul x Female Reader story :P Plz proceed w caution

TW: !Noncon!, breeding kink!, hella cum!, he holds you down onto the mattress!, kinda sus bc u just turned 18, he deadass bites you, !pees on u in rabbit form, mounting!, mentions of euthanization of animals at the beginning!, etc..)

“-Mama, Mama!” Your voice echoes throughout the kitchen, as you hurry inside, hands clutching something protectively. Your mother turns, startled by your sudden appearance and anxious sounding voice.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen? Did those neighbourhood boys bully you again?” Ever the mother hen, she frets over you, grabbing you gently by the shoulders and taking a good look at you.

Shaking your head, you lift your hands, showing the older woman a taupe coloured rabbit, “Look! Mrs. Ruitz next door is selling bunnies! She says this one is blind, so she hasn’t sold it, so she said she’d give him to me if you say yes! Please, please, please say yes! She said she’d put him down if he wasn’t sold,” Tears bead your eyes as you practically beg your mother, who doesn’t seem to have the heart to tell you ‘no’ at that moment.

She sighs, weighing her options. You’re already ten, so you should be able to take care of him with minimal effort on her part…

“I suppose that’s alright. You just have to promise me that you’ll take care of him!” You instantly perk up, a bright smile on your face.

“I promise! I promise!” You hold the bun closer to your chest, practically rocking it in the process, “Thank you, Mama!”

The older woman smiles once more, patting you goodnaturedly on the back, “Good. Now, let’s go talk to Mrs. Ruitz- we have no idea how to take care of it.”

Walking across the street, your mother and your neighbour talk about your bunny’s proper care. It turns out, your bun is a male, who is previously named N’Doul. Not wanting to confuse the bunny, you decided to keep his unusual name, chattering away happily to him as you sat in the grass, barely listening to his care requirements.

The bun listens intently to what you’re saying, relishing your gentle hold around him.

He must be lucky, he thinks, to have found someone as lovely as you for a mate.

Eight years later, and you and your bun are still going strong. You’d recently moved into your own apartment, trying out adult life as you start college.

Today is your birthday, officially making you an adult.

The day was filled with festivities: your mom made you your favourite breakfast in bed (scaring you half to death- apparently she has a copy of your apartment key), your friends took you out shopping, and your mom took you to a birthday dinner. All in all, it was a great day!

But, a certain bun was seemingly more excited than you were for your birthday, because he seemingly peed himself in excitement the moment you picked him up. Lightly scolding him, you set him down on his rabbit bed that you made him, “‘Doul, what the heck man!” You laugh a little, remembering back to when he was but a teeny kit, “You’re not a baby anymore, bubs, you can’t just pee on me!” The bun is surprisingly smart, allowing you to let him mosy around your house (now your own apartment that you saved up for for years). After he figures out the layout, he’s able to figure out where his pee pad is, along with his grass bed, actual bed, and food/drink area. He is also able to hear where you are, allowing him to cutely hop after you if you’re not already carrying him.

Going to the bathroom to wash your hands, you hear his barely audible pawsteps behind you, “It’s okay, ‘Doul, I’m just gonna clean myself off, okay?” Flipping on your faucet, you get your hands nice and wet, before you pump some soap onto your hands, and start scrubbing, “Maybe I should shower now, since I’m already here…” You trail off when you feel you bun settle himself on your foot.

Glancing down, you catch him just in time, as he starts to hump you. Gasping in surprise, you try to gently shake him off, but that seemingly just gets himself off faster, as you feel a foreign wetness against your skin, “What the fuck? Are you serious, N’Doul?!” Annoyed with the way he’s suddenly acting, once you finish washing your hands, you reach down, and scoop the bun up, “That’s not cool, bro. Because of that, you can wait in my room while I shower.”

Plopping him in his bunny bed, you turn on your heel, and hurry back into the bathroom, closing the door before he can follow you inside.

Stepping out of your shower, you wrap yourself securely with your plush towel. Not bothering to wipe off the steam from your mirror, you bust out of the bathroom, only to be greeted with your now empty room. The door leading to the hallway is wide open, and your bunny is nowhere to be seen. Completely stupefied, you have no idea how to respond. Did the bun hop up high enough to hit the handle? That should be impossible! A Holland Lop is big, but not that big!

“N’Doul? Bun? Where on Earth did you go?” Deeming your bunny’s safety higher than you changing into clothing, you quickly move out of your room clad in only your towel.

You go room by room, searching frantically for your beloved pet. He has to be here somewhere!

So, when you finally make it to your living room/kitchen, you let out a yell of fear. There, on your couch, is a naked, bunny eared, buff man who’s humping into your previously used panties, “Who the hell are you! Get the fuck out of my house!” Reaching for the baseball bat in the hallway, you hold it up with one hand threateningly, the other currently holding your towel.

A deep, rumbling laugh is heard from the mysterious man, who then tosses aside your soiled panties, “Don't be like that, Love. Your N’Doul only getting myself ready for you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? And what did you do with my bunny?” He chuckles, relishing your cute reaction.

“I’m your bunny, (Your Name). I’m N’Doul.”

“The hell you are! Get out, before I bash your skull in!” He stands to his feet, completely towering over you. Gulping in fear, you move backwards, but then you notice his eyes. They’re the same milky white your bun has, “I-I’m warning you! Stay away from me, you creep!”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender, showing how large his hands are compared to yours, “I’m not going to hurt you- I wouldn’t be a good mate if I did.”

Without thinking, you chuck your baseball bat at his bunny-eared head, before turning and running to your room. You hear the metal bat make contact, along with a yelp of pain. Locking your door behind you, you search your room for your car keys. Not long after you dump out your purse in pursuit of your keys, you hear loud footsteps thumping towards you.

A loud bang echoes throughout the room, as the man’s hit practically shakes the foundation of the wall, “Open the door, (Your Name)! Open it right now!” He sounds angry, and when you don’t respond fast enough, he starts trying to break down the door, his muscled body practically bending the thin wood with each body slam.

Screaming in fear, you start to cry. Thick tears drip down your face, as you plead with him to stop, “I-I don’t want to! Get out of my house!”

With one last mighty slam, the humanized N’Doul breaks into your bedroom. His nose is bleeding from the bat hitting him in the face, but other than that, he’s completely unscathed. Hearing you cry, he immediately goes to shush you, “Don’t cry, Love. Now that you’re considered an adult in your species, we can finally begin our life together.”

To his chagrin, you continue to sob, completely scared out of your mind, “No! Get out! Stop pretending to be my bunny, it’s weird!” He approaches you slowly, his much bigger form slightly bumping into a few pieces of furniture. This gives you enough time to make a break for it.

You try to round his form, almost making it to what’s left of your bedroom door, only to be stopped by a meaty arm practically slamming you onto your bed. Trying to get up, you quickly realise that escape is impossible, as his muscular legs practically trap you against your mattress. He uses his weight to hold you down, as he bites into your neck, trying to make you submit.

“Shh, stop resisting me, my Love. I promise that I’ll take care of you for the rest of our lives,” He continues to bite at you, as your screams are muffled into your sheets.

His large hands rip your towel off of you, exposing your slightly wet body to his prying fingers. The rough pads of his fingers rub at your erect nipples and unprepared slit, trying to get you as wet as possible.

“You’ll be a wonderful mother, I can tell you were made for this,” His cock head bumps against your tight entrance, forcing itself in as you scream.

He starts a breakneck pace almost immediately, relishing how your walls massage him so sinfully- as if you were made for only him, his inexperienced fingers rub at your clit harshly, trying to make this as pleasurable for you as possible,

Whilst this was happening, a bolt of pure pleasure shot up your spine, as he hit a certain gummy patch in your pussy, causing you to gush uncontrollably. Loud keens escape your gaping mouth, as his harsh ministrations are enough to almost make you cum immediately.

“Fuck, your body accepts me so perfectly, Love. It’s like it knows I’m going to pump you full of kits,” He lightly slaps at your clit, causing you to seize up in orgasm, quickly throwing him over the edge as well. Hot, virile cum overflows your womb, his swimmers quickly inseminating you. But it’s not enough. N’Doul, moments after orgasm, bucks into you even harsher than before, wanting to push as much of his cum as possible inside of you, “My perfect mate, I love you so much! I knew you were the one for me from the first time I met you! Only the love of my life would accept me even with my blindness!”

Still sensitive from before, the both of you hustle over the edge in mere moments, your release squirting all over the both of you.

“We’re not stopping until I know that you're pregnant, my love. Our wonderful kits are such a good birthday present, no?”

#yandere n'doul #yandere n'doul x reader #n'doul x reader #jjba x reader #yandere jjba #yandere jjba x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #yandere jojo

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dodo-begone · 4 years ago

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Could you Not?

Pairing: Techno x Reader

Request: yooo remember a while ago when we were talking abt Techno hiding you from the yandere boys?? that would be hella neat to see ngl —

Word count: 1.9k

Warning: yandere, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, panic attack at end

A/n: yan!minors are mentioned, that’s why there’s a yandere warning.

The day was predestined to be great; a day full of sunshine and peace. So many potatoes would be tilled, the dog army would grow exponentially and other calming hobbies.

Now let’s be honest, that isn’t the reality of things at all. Nothing is ever nice and simple. Life always needs to throw a curveball at people; keeping them on their feet, on edge for their entire existence. Techno was no exception from this rule. His life had been plagued by tragedy and hardships. It made him calloused and desensitized towards the world and whatever challenges it had to throw at him. Though nothing could have really prepared him for what came next. Well he actually did, in a way. Similar in reasoning yet very different in the reaction and how the problem was presented to him.

Puffy stood at his door, struggling to hold someone the size of her. They were thrashing around, screeching to be released from their confines. She looked exhausted and beyond worried. There were few words to describe her state. Sadness painted her face like clouds painted the sky; it was evident with every feature of her face, every movement of her brow and reddening eyes. Pants escaped her lips and the struggling wasn’t helping her catch the escaping breaths.

The person Puffy was holding wasn’t any better. They looked malnourished, dirty, panicked, stressed. Those were just the obvious and quick observations. There were probably so many other hidden issues with this person. Honestly, Techno didn’t want to deal with them or Puffy. He was absolutely done dealing with people.

He’d have to get over it though, as Puffy asked him to care for this mystery person. She pleaded so much, saying that if they couldn’t stay with him, they’d be in terrible danger. Techno was her only option in protecting this person. There were some horrible people looking for the person in her arms and she couldn’t protect them on her own. Honestly he was only half listening. He really didn’t want to hear about another person’s sob story and how they so desperately needed his help. How they just couldn’t make it without his help. Occasionally Techno nodded or gave a “mhm” to indicate he was listening. Because that’s the polite thing to do, even if you aren’t listening. It shows you are listening and seems polite. Though he should’ve paid a bit more attention because the next thing he knew a fucking child was getting shoved into his arms.

They were so tiny that they could qualify as a child. So frail, too skinny, hair matted and looked too pale for their natural complexion. Horrified couldn’t even describe how he felt; he did not want to be holding this person, they looked so fragile and could be hurt so easily. Plus they were screaming and crying, still fighting to get out your captor’s grip, which was currently him. Distressed and crying people weren’t the most pleasant to be around especially when you’re a seven foot tall, socially awkward piglin hybrid.

Techno tried to return them to Puffy’s possession. She refused, pushing them further into his hold. She kept insisting that he let them stay with him, at least for a little bit. There was little time to prepare a place for them to stay and they needed the constant protection and some care. Techno kept arguing with Puffy, saying that he really didn’t want, need or have the time to care for them.

It wasn’t long when Puffy finally ended the argument with one phrase; “you still owe me an IOU.”

_______________________________________________

“So is this it,” Techno reluctantly asked, gently bouncing the slumbering stranger. It was and wasn’t surprising how worn out they ended up after the argument. Half-way through the arguing and accommodations, they finally calmed and soon fell asleep. Though they were violently shivering; this conversation couldn’t keep going like this. They both looked at them and looked back at each other.

“Yes. Please,” Puffy whispered, gently putting her hand onto their arm. “Please take care of them for now. You don’t have to care for them long. I just-i just need some time to set them up a place and some help. There were few options to go with and you were the best one.”

Silence settled over them once again. Techno sighed, building his resolve to care for another kid. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Puffy awarded Techno with one of the most relieved smiles he had ever encountered. She was visibly relaxed, not holding herself up like a puppet who’s tense strings were being tugged. “Now get going Puffy,” Techno ushered. “I can take it from here.”

With that, Puffy started her trek back home, through the unforgiving tundra. As Techno watched her walk away, he wondered how she managed it. How she could carry someone the size of herself for god-knows how long.

He couldn’t ponder long. The person in his arms was still out in the harsh cold and definitely not dressed or prepared for weather like this. A very vulnerable position. With that, he opened the door with his foot and brought the two of you inside.

There weren’t many places to lay someone down. The floor was an option, but it was probably super cold. Techno wasn’t too sure, but he also didn’t want to risk it at the moment. Scanning around reveals a small issue; Techno’s reading chair is the only place to sit that isn’t the damn floor. Crackling fire brought his attention to the welcoming presence of the hearth. So either the floor with the fireplace or the chair which was a decent distance from the fireplace. Was it really a question at that point?

Walking over to the fireplace, Techno tried to disturb the person as little as possible. He started to slowly place them onto the ground. They wouldn’t really notice if they were as exhausted as they looked. When they touched the ground, they stirred and groaned at the change in temperature. Swiftly Techno place them on the floor and held his hands up; a way of saying “okay i’m not touching it so it shouldn’t break now- don’t break”. After a few moments of stillness, Techno deemed himself to be in the “all clear”. With that, he walked off to a different part of the house. He had to start setting up a room for his new guest. And get them food and proper clothing-

A ruckus from the living quarters disturbed him. Oh god what was going on now? Without much thought, he ran to the noise. When he arrived, he frantically looked around. He was looking for anything, but more specifically a danger. But it was much the opposite.

There, at his front door, trying to get out like their life depended on it, was that stranger. Well, it wasn’t a stranger. He couldn’t keep forgetting that. It was ______. Though it was hard to do that; they looked so different. Panic seemed to just possess them; their eyes were wide and bloodshot and their face was even paler than he remembered them in their pale state. Which was an odd statement but it was oddly true. He hadn’t thought that you could get any paler, yet here you are proving him wrong.

You two were in a stare off- trying to figure out what to do. It would be somewhat hilarious if the situation wasn’t so serious; a person trying desperately to get out of someone’s house in some of the most comical positions while a seven foot piglin just awkwardly stared from the other side of the room. The semi-trance was broken by you. Tears started to fall down your face, body started to violently shake, and then you started to try and destroy the door with your body.

Techno was holding you in a heartbeat. Once again, you were dangling and struggling to get out of his grasp. Last time it wasn’t his grasp you were trying to escape, but it was all the same in the end. Your crying soon reverted back to sobbing and screams. Flinching, Techno contemplated just dropping you. Yet he couldn’t; you were trying to escape and that wasn’t a good idea.

Carrying you around the house was a challenge; you were swinging what little weight you could and it was working. He barely got to the other end of the room before he got fed up with your little tantrum. Without a second thought, he just dropped you like a bag of potatoes. The moment you hit the ground, you scrambled to get as far away as possible. That leads you to a corner. You kept an eye of him yet curled up so much. He couldn’t tell if it was because you were cold or scared.

“Please let me go back.”

That catches Techno off guard. It was obviously you voice; he wasn’t talking and you were the only other thing that could talk here. Yet it didn’t sound like you. Your voice was now so gravely, scratchy and heavy. Like you hadn’t properly talked in a while. Though your crying definitely wasn’t helping. Even taking that into consideration, you sound way worse than someone who is just crying and occasionally screaming.

“Excuse me,” he mumbles, staring at you. Waiting for you to answer or proof that he was actually imagining stuff. It could’ve easily been a voice though-

“I said please let me go back,” you sniffled, turning to look at him more. Your eyes held such sadness, besides the tears. The yearning in them hurt. It was obvious you were missing something.

“Go back where,” Techno prodded. He tried his best to make it gentle so you wouldn’t close up again. So he slowly sat on the ground with you, scooting towards you as a pace you could easily stop.

“Back to my friends, obviously,” you stated, keeping a steady and guarded eye on Techno. “I want to go back home. Back to Tommy and Tubbo and Ranboo an-and Purpled.” Suddenly you started to cry much harder. So hard it was practically impossible to speak. Only hiccups and gasps left your lips.

“Let me go, I won’t bother you again.” You kept repeating that phrase. Even rephrasing it, but it was muffled. Well not muffled, but extremely hard to hear through your crying. Techno let you keep saying that in hopes you tire of it, yet it seemed to have the opposite effect. You only started to say it more clearly, louder, and more assertively. It was obvious you were bound and determined to go back to wherever the hell you were before.

“Hey kid,” Techno does his best to stop your babbling. The pleads had just digressed to nonsense, so it was more accurate to call that mess babbling. “I can’t do that.”

His answer wasn’t well received. It only made you sadder and madder; you even deployed the puppy dog eyes. You really wanted this.

“It’s not safe with them,” he reiterated. “You look sickly too. Did you not care for yourself with them?”

Silence consumed you; maybe now you were finally thinking more clearly.

A meek “no” left your lips. Realization seemed to hit you, at least somewhat. It was a step forward, and Techno was taking it wholeheartedly. Anything was progress and he just wanted this over. Some of the voices whispered that they wanted you to get better, but he ignored them.

“Then it’s settled. You’re staying here.”

#tw: yandere #tw: stockholm syndrome #c: techno #techno x reader #technoblade x reader #dsmp!techno #mcyt x reader #mcyt shipping #dsmp shipping #dodo writing #tw: kidnapping #c: puffy #tw: panic attack #dsmp x reader

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