#I’m back on my study grind. sadly. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

combeauferre · 3 months ago

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trust you've got time on your side

les miserables, rated t, 2.6k words

“You think I’m on top of everything?” Courf says, smiling sadly. “I haven’t even started this essay yet. The reading is impossible. You’re not the only one struggling.”

“I-I shouldn’t be str-struggling at all.”

Enjolras should be made for university life, and instead, he's falling behind. Sometimes he needs reminding that that's okay.

Here is my submission for this year's @drinkwithme-exchange! This is for @spicypotstickerbliss I hope you enjoy!

read on ao3

By all measures, Enjolras should be perfectly cut out for university. He’s dedicated, he’s passionate, he cares. He's wanted to study law for as long as he can remember, it's his heart and soul and life's blood.

He's not like half the people on his course, who took law because their rich parents want them to become rich lawyers. They're not here to learn the intricacies of a system they want to tear down.

His own rich parents want nothing less than for him to study law. If they had their way he'd be studying medicine or dentistry. Not that he would ever do something just for them.

This is the start of the rest of his life - where he lets go of everything behind him and works on all he's ever cared about. This should be a breeze.

There’s a voice in the back of his head, his guidance counsellor’s patronising, grating voice, telling him, “you have to be sure before you enter a law degree. Becoming a reputable lawyer does not happen across a three year Bachelor's degree. A lot of people don't make it." As if he’s ever been unsure about anything in his life, as if he ever struggled in school, ever been anything less than a solid A-grade student, or ever gave the impression that he couldn’t keep up with a heavy workload.

The pile of untouched readings on his desk stare at him in the same tone as his guidance counsellor spoke to him a year ago. Between attending classes, making connections with other students, writing essays and trying to create an activism group from the ground up, reading has taken a backseat. In theory, it's the least important part of his course. He shows up to class on time, he answers questions, he readily takes part in debates. For a while, he thought he could get away with doing the bare minimum of reading, and make up for it in every other area.

But slowly, he's been finding that when reading falls apart, his classes don't make sense. His arguments have no depth. Only a week ago, a professor pulled him aside at the end of a class to check he was keeping on top of his studies; it was embarrassing. His essays have no sources, the students he felt connected with a couple of months ago are suddenly miles ahead of him, and everything has come grinding to a halt.

In his shared living room, Courfeyrac is curled up on the couch with a re-run of the documentary series the three of them have been watching together. Combeferre is at the stove, cooking dinner for the three of them. Tomorrow, it’s Enjolras’ turn. Another thing to add to the list of things he has to do.

Courf takes almost all the same classes Enjolras does. They read the same papers, they write the same essays. Courf takes on almost as much work in their yet-to-be-named group as Enjolras and Combeferre. Courf, who had been terrified of the law workload, where Enjolras has never faltered in his surety to keep on top of it all. Now look who’s dragging behind.

A paper sits open in Enjolras’ lap, a few lines highlighted and an essay open on his laptop. If he can just finish reading this paper, find a decent few quotes to add, maybe he can at least get a decent first draft of this essay. It’s not due until next week, he has time, surely. Although, in that time, there will be two more seminars focused on different papers, a couple of multiple-choice tests, and a meeting of their now five-member group, in which they will discuss expansion. Enjolras will explain a plan of action for the next few months. A plan of action he has yet to make.

A soft knock at the door makes him jolt up.

“Bas?”

He sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“Come in.”

Courfeyrac’s face pokes around the door and they smile.

“Gabriel says dinner’s almost ready, are you joining us?”

“Yeah,” he says, sighing, “I-I just have t-to finish something first.”

Stepping inside, Courfeyrac drops down on the other end of Enjolras’ bed.

“Which essay is this?” Their head cranes over Enjolras’ laptop to look at the paper he’s reading. “Oh, that one.”

“I-I know you’ve pr-probably already fin-finished it,” he says, sighing and ignoring Courf's amused shake of the head, "all th-this reading is s-s-so hard to get through.”

“Well, some food and a break will help, right?”

Chewing his lip, Enjolras shakes his head.

“Maybe I-I’ll have dinner in here, I really w-want to get th-this draft done.”

“Bas, come on.”

“I-I don’t have t-time, Jules,” he says, firmer, glaring at his computer screen. “Just b-because you can s-sit and w-watch TV all night, d-doesn’t mean I-I can.”

He reaches up to tug at his hair, scowling down at the paper.

“Th-this reading is s-so hard,” he continues, “I-I can barely get my-my head around it, an-and we have so much t-to do w-with the group, and-” he takes a few quick, sharp breaths, “I-I can’t just get th-through it all like y-you can.”

Courfeyrac sighs fondly.

“Do you really think I’m watching TV because all my work is done?”

Frowning, Enjolras looks up.

“I-is it not?”

“No.” Gently, Courf pulls Enjolras’ laptop away. “I know it’s hard, Bas, but you’re gonna burn out if you don’t take breaks.”

“I don’t have time to- to take breaks.”

He avoids Courf’s face. He has the stern look memorised, and he's sure Courf learned it from Combeferre.

“Do you want me to get Gabi in here?”

Scowling at nothing, Enjolras shakes his head.

“I-I just don’t know h-how you do it,” he says eventually, quietly. “All I e-ever do is w-work, and I jus-just can’t do it all.” He takes a breath and picks at his fingers. “You two are on t-top of everything, all th-the time.”

“You think I’m on top of everything?” Courf says, smiling sadly. “I haven’t even started this essay yet. The reading is impossible. You’re not the only one struggling.”

“I-I shouldn’t be str-struggling at all.”

A throat clears in the doorway, and they look up to see Combeferre leaning against the doorframe.

“H-how long have you been th-there?” Enjolras asks nervously.

“Long enough,” Ferre says, smiling sadly, “Jules was a while getting you, I was worried. I should’ve known you’d be working yourself to death in here. Still.”

Blushing sheepishly, Enjolras looks away.

“Come and get some dinner,” he says, “you need to eat, Bas.”

He huffs, folding his arms.

“Y-yes, dad."

Combeferre laughs.

“Yes, come into the living room and think about what you’ve done.”

Taking his laptop, Courfeyrac saves Enjolras' work and closes it down. They reach out a hand for him and tug him up.

“Maybe we can bring all our work out and study together tonight, yeah?”

“I have some reading to do too,” Combeferre says, guiding them both out into the living room. Grinning, he adds, “we can always swap and you can read about metaphysics instead.”

“I-it’s probably more in-interesting than property law,” Enjolras grumbles, allowing himself to be guided to the couch. A bowl of stew and couscous is placed in his hands and he sighs softly as the smell reaches his nose.

“I loved this episode so much I had to watch it again,” Courfeyrac says as they settle down on one side of him, pressing play. Combeferre sits on the other.

“Wh-why do I feel l-like th-this is going to be an-an intervention?” he asks, eyeing them both suspiciously.

Laughing, Courfeyrac links their arms.

“Well, it’s too late now, you’re stuck here.”

"I-I really am gonna n-need to go back an-and finish my w-work, Jules,” Enjolras says, trying again to squirm out of their grip.

“Nope, you’re not going anywhere,” Courf laughs, leaning their weight against him, “you’re going to take a break and you’re going to fucking enjoy it.”

Sulkily, Enjolras sighs and stops, taking a mouthful of stew.

“Success!” Courf cheers, finally settling in.

Throughout their meal, Enjolras tries to slowly drag his arm free of the loop it’s made with Courfeyrac’s, but every time he's close to getting free, they shoot him a sly grin and clamp their arm back down against his.

"You two are children,” Combeferre comments dryly, after a solid ten minutes of practiced patience. He finishes his stew and loops his own arm through Enjolras’ other with a smirk.

“I-I’m staying, I’m staying,” he grumbles, “I c-can barely even eat m-my stew anymore.”

Combeferre releases him gently and takes his bowl into the kitchen.

“You’d better still be there when I get back,” he calls.

“He will be,” Courf shouts back with a laugh.

“I-I really need t-to get back to w-work, Jules,” Enjolras says quietly, “I-I’m so behind.”

“You work too much, Bas,” they say, kindly, “you’re not behind, you’re burning out. You need to take more breaks.”

“I-I don’t!” Enjolras insists, “If I can just- just get out of th-this slump, I’ll be al-alright again.”

Walking back in from the kitchen, Combeferre drops on the other side of him and passes them each a cookie.

“Jules is right,” he says, “you’re going to work yourself into the ground.”

“N-nothing is done!” Enjolras insists, “I have s-so much to d-do and no t-t-time to get it all d-done!”

“Well clearly,” Combeferre says, taking his hand and gently rubbing the back of it with his thumb, “working down to the bone isn’t helping.”

“You’re not even behind,” Courfeyrac adds, “you’ve done way more than me. I haven’t even started that essay, I’m working on group stuff right now, I haven’t even had time to think about it.”

“Th-that should not be getting i-in the way of your w-work-”

“Bas,” Courfeyrac lays a hand on his shoulder, “I’m managing fine. You clearly are not, you need more rest.”

Enjolras folds his arms petulantly.

"You know Jules is right," Combeferre adds, putting an arm round Enjolras' shoulders, "We're both worried about you, we haven't properly seen you in days."

"I'm fine," he grumbles, leaning into his side all the same. "I-I just need to catch up on- on this one th-thing and I'll be b-back on tr-track."

"How about this," Ferre says, pausing the documentary again, "Tonight, we just relax, we finish watching this and then we can just hang out or something, and tomorrow-"

"I-I can't-"

"Tomorrow," Combeferre continues with a stern look, "we take our stuff and we go check out that cafe you were telling us about, and we can spend the day studying there. And I'm sure you'll get more done than if you lock yourself in your room tonight and force yourself to write that essay."

Huffing, Enjolras glares between them.

"Fine."

"Good." Combeferre goes to relinquish his hold, but Enjolras rests his head on his shoulder and sighs.

"Comfy there?" Ferre asks, smiling fondly. Nodding, Enjolras' eyes slip shut and Ferre gives Courfeyrac a soft look.

"I'll get a blanket," Courf says, getting up and taking theirs and Enjolras' empty bowls, pressing a kiss to Enjolras' temple as they go.

"You t-two fuss too much," he says quietly, when Courf has disappeared into their room. "I-I would be f-fine."

Stroking his hair, Combeferre shrugs lightly.

"Maybe you would be," he says, "but you don't seem fine. Working yourself down to the bone isn't going to always give you perfect grades, Bas. Do you really think you would have been able to finish that essay tonight? Or would you have sat in there and stared at that paper all night and beaten yourself up about how you couldn't focus on it?"

Huffing, Enjolras scowls straight ahead. Ferre doesn't need to see it to know the expression.

"You know I'm right," he says gently.

"May-maybe," Enjolras concedes.

"So, what about," Courfeyrac says, pulling two blankets out of their room, "we get all our cushions and duvets out here and have a sleepover?"

"I-it's already a sl-sleepover every night," Enjolras says, "w-we live i-in the same house."

"We don't sleep in the same room, though," they reply, setting down the blankets on the floor, "this will be like the good old days, the three of us all cuddled up together, watching a movie." He throws Enjolras a smirk. "And that way, we know you won't skulk back to your room and work on your essay until four in the morning."

"I-I wasn't going t-to do that."

"Sure you weren't."

"I w-wasn't!"

"Well then it doesn't matter, does it?" Courf asks, taking his hand and pulling him down on to a blanket. "You're not missing out on work, and we get to spend time with our bestest friend."

Enjolras can't help the soft look that comes over his face at that.

"Y-you really don't h-have to do th-this," he says quietly.

Courfeyrac cradles his face gently with their hands and smiles, kissing his forehead.

"We want to."

And then they're off again, carrying back and forth duvets and pillows from each of their rooms and making a nest on the floor in front of the TV.

"Gabi," they say, on their second duvet run, "Will you help Bas pick out a movie?"

"I-I don't need help w-with th-that," Enjolras grumbles. Combeferre laughs and rolls his eyes.

"Are you going to be grumpy about this all night?" he asks fondly.

Scowling good naturedly, Enjolras considers.

"Maybe."

"Go on then, pick us out a movie."

Reaching down to their TV, Enjolras pulls out their shared box of DVDs and rifles through until he finds what he's looking for.

Courfeyrac laughs quietly and rolls their eyes.

"You don't even know the half of it," Combeferre says as he takes The Neverending Story from Enjolras and sets up the DVD. "When we first met, this was the only movie we were allowed to watch for the first two years of our sleepovers."

"I-it's a beautiful st-story about hope and p-perse-perseverence," Enjolras grumbles, slinking back on to the couch and huddling into Courfeyrac's side.

"As far as comfort movies go, it's pretty good," Courf concedes, pushing a hand into Enjolras' hair and scritching gently at the scalp.

Combeferre comes back to the couch and settles into Enjolras' other side, leaning into him and accepting an arm around his shoulders.

Eventually, Enjolras' tenseness ebbs away and he settles back into Courf's lap, Combeferre's head ending up in his own. A "th-thank you" is almost silently drawn from his lips as his eyes slip closed.

"Any time," Combeferre says, just as quietly, from where his head rests easily on Enjolras' thigh. He and Courfeyrac follow in sleep shortly after.

It's early morning when Courfeyrac wakes to a gentle jostling coming from their front. Opening their eyes and letting them adjust, they see Enjolras gently trying to pry himself away from the sandwich they've trapped him in.

"What do you think you're doing?" Courf whispers, making Enjolras all but jump out of his skin.

"Jules, I-I really need t-to get this w-work done." His voice is groggy from his own sleep and his eyes are bleary but he doesn't let up.

Rolling their eyes, Courf whips their arms around him and they pull him back into place.

"Don't make me wake Gabi," they say sternly. Enjolras sighs and begrudgingly relaxes back into Jules' lap.

"You're not going anywhere until morning," they whisper, pulling Enjolras closer and snuggling back into place.

"I-if I fail this paper," Enjolras mutters, "I'm b-blaming you."

"Well it's a good job you're not going to fail then, isn't it?"

Glaring at them, Enjolras settles down and finally closes his eyes again.

"Just get some proper rest, Bas," Courf murmurs, stroking his hair once more, "in the morning, I promise I will help you with the paper."

This seems good enough for Enjolras, who rests his head back on Courfeyrac's stomach, and slowly falls back asleep.

#les mis #drink with me 2024 #drinkwithme2024 #les miserables #les amis de l'abc #combeferre #courfeyrac #enjolras #enjolras/combeferre/courfeyrac #fanfiction #ollie writes #mine

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mutant-enthusiast-08 · 2 years ago

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Well well well, I’ve finally finished the Facts of Life and man it really went out with a whimper didn’t it 😭.

As much as I enjoyed some parts of season 9, I definitely think I’d rather have the finale for Season 8 be the ending of the show since it fit so well. A bonus to that would be not having to see Jo and Rick get married which I did not enjoy.

Going into the show knowing that Jo was going to get married at the end, I already knew disappointment was in store but I thought it’d be better than this! Jo and Rick’s relationship isn’t fleshed out AT ALL and I have no idea why Jo likes this guy, we didn’t even see them get together, they just start dating out of the blue!!! Having Tootie and Jeff get married in that episode is would’ve made much more sense and I think I would’ve really liked that.

I also really didn’t enjoy them femming Jo up so much this season. As a sort of masc presenting person myself, it really grinds my gears when female masculinity is treated as a phase that you’ll eventually grow out of. More than that, I just don’t think it made sense for Jo as a character to start dressing this way all of a sudden. Also, knowing that Jo becomes a cop in the reunion movie makes absolutely no sense when looking at the person she’s become by season 9.

I didn’t have any big problems with Natalie or Tootie’s storylines this season, in fact I really enjoyed them and I think they made it through to the end of the show pretty in tact as characters.

I do wish Blair had been able to consistently keep some of the character development she gained over the years. They have so many instances of her being ignorant and stuck up when she’s really grown more than that by now. I know it’s for comedy but it still makes me a little sad.

Finally, Jo and Blair’s dynamic. The premiere of season 9 had me hopeful but sadly, it didn’t maintain. Oh how I long for the casual intimacy they had in seasons 5 and 6. Those girls were together every second back then!!! They’d enter the store together, hang out together, go to events together, study together, and we get very little of that this season. It’s back to the old pretending like we hate each other shtick, which, I guess I understand, it’s a sitcom and people eat that stuff up, but man, if character continuity mattered more, I think they’d be just as amiable as in their early college days.

All that said and grievances aside, I’m still so glad I found this show. It’s made me super happy over the past few months and I think that happiness will carry on even longer . Though I’m sad to think about what the later seasons could have been, I still have the episodes where it was in its prime to rewatch and that’s good enough for me 😌

P.S if I were in charge, I never would’ve moved to Over Our Heads, Edna’s Edibles was my favorite era of the show

#the facts of life #facts of life #tfol #edna garrett #jo polniaczek #blair warner #natalie green #tootie ramsey #dorothy ramsey #jo x blair #blair x jo #warnerczek #80s tv shows #my thoughts #Charlotte Rae #kim fields #mindy cohn #lisa whelchel #nancy mckeon

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liliths-missing-pen · 2 years ago

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*Slicks back hair and then leans a hand on the wall behind you and with my third hand I raise a finger on my chin*Hey I'm lost baby girl and I need a matchup desperately, it's very urgent for I have what you call simp syndrome and I'm slowly dying from it unless someone makes out with me,

so first thing's first I Identity as an INTP and My Enneagram is a 5w4, I'm not the type to go out of my way to socialize since I'm more of a recluse (willingly) yeaaaah I'm socially anxious but I cover it up with insocially being confident helped with the coping of being a fashionable carefree dumbass ( it's basically one of those japanese grunge styles in Pinterest)or through flirting (jokingly). I especially flirt alot with my friends or tease them,I only have like 6, 3 from online and 3 irl because I'm someone who has a hard time getting attached to people it will take me a long time before I can consider someone a friend or someone close to tell them my personal issues. and once we're close enough I'm always willing to pay attention since I'm more of a listener type I love it when people talk long about themselves I think it's quite nice to learn about them even if they think it's a lil stupid and I'm very supportive about their Ideas or goals unless it's bad,if I was on my usual shenanigans and they felt uncomfortable or want to be serious about something I make sure to listen,advise or to stand up for them or to them like if they did something wrong I won't sugar-coat it but I won't be harsh about it at the same time, though it's a bit rare for people to ever see me on the serious side though since I'm too much of a menace.I also happen to do things on a whim so my moods tend to vary that it can impact my decision and also get bored easily with things I'm not interested that it makes me have lack of motivation for it, like when it comes to grinding for a game I can pull an all nighter but when it comes to studying for a quizz I tend to do it last minute, I be making up stories in my head 24/7, like making theories, stories or made up scenerious in my head I be runnind wild

I don't have a specific type just need someone to be my living and breathing braincell who's capable of hearing me rambling out of nowhere 3am in a morning vc about A story I came up with and want to animate it so badly, thnx for reading my very lengthy Ted talk.

I’m sobbing the intro is so funny and I want to answer this matchup but if the anon who sent this please specify what fandom or I can’t answer this and I do not wanna guess which fandom it’s for 😭 You may die sadly of this simp syndrome you’re suffering with

#🍃 | lilith's talks #💞 | lilith’s matchups

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becca-e-barnes · 3 years ago

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Ok but dilf Steve being a professor and y/n is his assistant and in college and he asks her to come to his house and help him with grading bc he is overwhelmed and she asks about his wife minding and he says he is divorced bc she left him for a younger man (cue her being sorry but also like ayyy) and he falls asleep because he’s so exhausted and ends up needy in his sleep whining and rutting into the couch and she wakes him up and tells him and he says he’s sorry but she straddles him and feels how thick he is and fjdkdkgkfkk he fucks the life out of her plS my nipples are hard thinkin about clean shaven dilf Steve

Oh my god I know you sent this ages so but I really miss writing Steve and I wanna come back to this bc 🥵 I've written soooo much Bucky recently

Like imagine watching that beautiful big man desperately humping the couch beneath him in his sleep. You maybe weren’t as sleepy as he was so you were still up grading papers and he’s just passed out, his head resting on a cushion while his hips grind ever so slightly into the couch beneath him.

It’s hardly noticeable at first. You just think he’s shifting around to get comfortable and you weren’t even planning to let him sleep there much longer because it can’t possibly be good for his back.

But then the movement becomes a little more noticeable, his eyes still closed but the shifting becomes a repetitive back and forth grind.

You don’t really think too much of it up until you hear a little “o-oh fuck.” The next time you glance over, he’s increased his speed a little, rutting into the soft couch with a death grip on the cushion under his head. His lips are parted and there’s a desperate look on his face that screams how badly he needs this kind of release.

The debate starts up in your head about whether or not to waken him. You shouldn’t be letting him do this but at the same time, you can't leave him here and let him suffer from the back pain in the morning. You think about waking him but the kind of embarrassment that would be for both of you isn’t very appealing.

But then a little sob of “F-feel so good, o-oh please.” Slips out, followed by a particularly hard grind and your breath catches in your throat. You shouldn’t be listening to this, even though it’s not your fault at all.

So you grit yourself teeth and lean over, setting a hand gently on Steve’s shoulder and cooing his name to waken him. When he does waken, he jumps a little, looking dazed and confused and so damn flushed.

“Shit, did I doze off?” He groans, rubbing his eyes before checking his watch.

“I think I should go, you have a lot to take care of here.” You mumble, getting up and gathering your things, bundling the papers up into a nice neat pile.

“Oh… Okay, I’ll um… I’ll show you out.” He smiles sadly, trying to hide his disappointment at losing your company but as soon as he sits up, he feels the familiar throb. His sweatpants are tight, his dick aching and desperate and it all just clicks in his head.

“Oh my god, I didn’t say anything, did I? Honey, if I did, I’m so fucking sorry. Honestly, I truly didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Y-you’re such a beautiful woman and I have dreams like that sometimes, I thought I’d been hiding the crush I have but god, apparently not.” He’s frantic because he can’t even imagine what he must’ve said. Sometimes his head runs off with itself and it’s not intentional but when it does, you’re usually the subject of his filthy thoughts.

“What crush, Steve?” You ask softly, stopping in your tracks to watch him, studying his face.

“The school girl crush I’ve had on you for months now. Every tiny little thing about you drives me crazy, I can’t explain it but you just… You make me feel like I’m not alone. You make at least one part of my life bearable because when I come into work and see you, I know it’s gonna be a good day. Coming home to an empty house has been so fucking hard but you make me really happy.” He’s never been so bashful. He’s so damn shy it almost hurts to listen to but you can feel how sincere he is.

“Steve please…. Shut up.” You whisper, dropping your bag and rushing over to where he’s sitting on the couch, straddling his lap and giving him the fiercest kiss. The pathetic, rumbling moan leaves him before he has a chance to think about it and his length is throbbing worse than ever as the kiss just gets more intense.

“I am going. To kiss. Every. Single. Inch of you.” He pants between burning kisses to your neck, haphazardly stripping you both of your clothes.

“Please Stevie, don’t be gentle. There’s plenty of time for that later.” You groan, rolling your hips against his length, making him choke out a pathetic moan.

“You want it rough, babygirl? Want it hard and fast and messy? You’re gonna feel me inside you for days if I fuck you the way you want me to.” He grunts, pulling your panties so hard, they tear right off in his hand, making you yelp.

“You're so fucking ready for me. So wet already, such a good girl." His breath is hot on your neck as you sink down on him, stretching yourself out on his length until it leaves you whimpering, arching your back to let him settle even deeper inside you.

"S-Steve. Oh my, ah, that feels perfect." Your gasp makes him throb, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his hands on your ass to help you work yourself on him. It's so desperate and needy but it's so satisfying.

"Jesus, baby you’re so o-oh, so tight. Made for me, you know that? Better than I could’ve even dreamed. Take me so well.” His eyes are screwed shut, the pleasure making him crumble against you. That man would take real good care of you, that's for sure

#asks answered <3 #anon #becca writes spice #professor!steve #professor!Steve rogers #I missed Steve I felt like I needed a lil break from bucky #or I need to write a really different AU for a change?#this scratched that itch

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olderthannetfic · 2 years ago

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This is female sexual dysfunction anon, I just wanted to thank y’all so much, honestly just knowing that I’m not the only one who deals with this has made me feel so much better about it. <3 tysm!!

Some clarification about medication— I only started SSRIs about six months ago, and I’m currently in the process of switching to a stronger medication. I’ve had an inability to get aroused since before I started medication, but I’ve also had symptoms of depressed since around the onset of puberty (10?), which is the same time I began to have an interest in sex and masturbation. I will keep the effect on libido in mind when discussing it with my doctor and psychiatrist.

[I also have a really weird clitoris and can’t pull back the hood, so it doesn’t help when all the articles I read are like “try clitoral stimulation!”, lol]

Well, to be fair, a lot of people find that grinding against something is better than whatever you'll typically see in porn that involves fingers. The clitoris also has long wings. It's more than just the glans. "Clitoral stimulation" covers a fair amount of territory.

But also... while a huge clitoral hood is perfectly normal and no big deal, not being able to manually retract it is a medical problem referred to as clitoral adhesions. It's the clit version of the thing where smegma sticks the foreskin to the glans of a penis. Or it could be congenital and the hood is just too tight. But either way, we devote lots of study to fixing the dick versions and basically zero to even telling women the clit versions exist. Sadly, you're a lot less unusual than you think in this respect.

Clitoral adhesions can indeed interfere with sexual function. That's certainly not the only thing going on here if you've been suffering from depression this whole time, but it may be a factor. The adhesions aren't dangerous in a way where you must rush to the doctor, but I'd ask your gynecologist to have a look. A decent one should be familiar with the condition. It's highly treatable once you find a doctor who even knows to look.

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solarwonux · 4 years ago

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10. I still remember the way you taste.

yoongi x f!reader

w.c: 3.8k (YES I GOT CARRIED AWAY SUE ME)

warnings: smut, semi unprotected sex, make up sex, some angst. Briefly edited.

note: lol i think I forgot how to write smut but anyway, hi, um, yes I got carried away lmao. But yeah let me know your thoughts. Send me a drabble prompt hehe. Thank you for reading I hope you enjoy.

drabble game

“I still remember the way you taste.” Yoongi’s knee is wedged in between your thighs as he attacks your neck in desperate open-mouthed kisses. “Yoongi, f-fuck, s-stop.” You say in between pants, placing your hands against his chest in an attempt to create some sort of space between the two of you.

Yoongi smirks against your skin and lifts his head, eyeing you down, pushing his hips further into yours, showing you how much he needed you. “I’ve been holding back from you all weekend. The guys even have a bet going on to see how long I can keep my distance from you.” His hand travels down the side of your body, bunching your silk dress up to your thighs. “Safe to say Jungkook, Hoseok, and Seokjin have lost.”

You roll your eyes. “God, don’t talk about them right now.” You run a finger down his clothed chest, stopping above the first button of his vest. “At least not when you’re about to fuck me in the bathroom of your best friend’s wedding reception” You pop the first button, earning an enticing low groan from your ex-boyfriend.

“Hey!” He exclaims flicking your forehead lightly, “he’s your best friend too.”

“Yoongi, I’m serious I hear their names come out of your lips one more time and I’ll leave you to take care of yourself.” You say as he apologizes with a nod of his head. You unbutton the next two buttons of his vest, stopping before pushing it off his body finally taking in the situation and your surroundings. The bathroom wasn’t dirty, nor was it clean. It had a musty smell making you wonder if someone had already done the deed before the two of you walked in. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this here.” You quirk a questioning eyebrow.

He shakes his head in disbelief, “I’m not walking through the reception and the hotel lobby with a boner.” He grinds his hips against yours, proving his point. You let out a moan throwing your head back, hitting the wall behind you lightly. He felt so good, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the hand dryer was painfully digging into your back. You would’ve agreed with his statement.

“Just stay behind me, I’ll cover you. Who’s room is closer?” You push him away, finally creating the distance you needed. You turn to face the mirror, fixing your smudged lipstick. Yoongi was shocked, staring at you. God, you were so sexy, the product of his late-night escapades by himself. Especially after the two of you had mutually called it quits.

All throughout the weekend you were driving him crazy, reeling him in to then push him away. He suspects that was your revenge for breaking up with you. One you only agreed to because you knew that once his mind was set on something, there was no way to talk him out of it.

He had almost survived. Almost. That small buzzword was thrown out the window the second you entered the green room where he and all the rest of the groomsmen were waiting in to let them know the ceremony was going to start in five minutes. The long silk lilac dress you were wearing left little to his imagination, one he didn’t have to use much because he had spent years memorizing every single part of your body.

You giggle at his dazed look, sending him a wink through the mirror before turning to face him again, planting a slow sensual kiss against his lips, pulling away before he could respond. “Hurry up or I might change my mind.” You pat his chest and walk past him. “I’ll wait outside.” You say in a sing-song voice and Yoongi was now fully convinced you were messing with him. Exuding your revenge and he had foolishly fallen into your trap.

The walk through the reception was a nightmare.

Yoongi felt like he couldn’t breathe, his hand sweating in between yours. He sent glares into your back and they only got worse every time you stopped to talk about your new start-up business, with someone he barely recognized. He was proud of you for finally leaving your job. He had witnessed many of your angry breakdowns, his heart shattering every time you cried into his chest because of how unhappy you were working for your dream company. That when he finally got word that you had left and started your own company, boldly rivaling your old one. The sigh of relief he let out was monumental. He was proud of you and would’ve told you, praised you, as you happily explained your ideas. That’s if he was thinking with his head and heart not his dick, which was straining painfully against the waistband of his slacks. If it wasn’t for his suit jacket doing most of the work in hiding it he would’ve died out of pure agony and embarrassment.

“We finally found an office and we’re moving in when Jimin gets back from his honeymoon. Sadly, he says I’m not allowed to start decorating without him, scared I’ll put an outside fountain in the middle of the whole place.” You say, prompting a booming laugh from Jimin’s dad.

Jimin’s mom shakes her head, “he gets his perfectionism from my side of the family, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, honestly, I don’t have an ounce of interior design in my body, so I’d rather he be there to supervise before he yells at me saying that I’ve ruined everything.”

Yoongi could feel the sweat start to pool above his brow, tuning you and Jimin’s parents out. He had never felt this needy in his entire life. He supposes it's the adrenaline rush of seeing you in such a revealing dress or the fact that he missed you. The last year and a half without you had been awful. Everything reminded him of you and he had to fight the urge to just call you. He never did. Afraid you had found it in yourself to finally hate him for breaking your heart.

“Yoongi, sweetheart, are you okay?” Jimin’s mom asked, placing the back of her hand against his forehead, making him flinch. “Oh dear, you’re burning up, maybe you should go lay down.” The worry in her voice was evident, melting his heart. Jimin’s parents always treated him like he was one of their own, welcoming him with open arms when Jimin had first invited him and the guys over for lunch after school almost ten years ago. When Yoongi’s parents had kicked him out for choosing to study music production instead of something ‘meaningful’ they had taken him and even offered to pay for his school expenses. He owed them a lot, and if circumstances were different he would’ve thanked them profusely, just like he always did.

“I think he has a fever so I’m going to walk him back to his room.” You nod your head, letting go of his hand and looping your arm with his. “It must’ve been the shrimp appetizer, he’s never been good with seafood, right baby?” The evil glint in your eye was too much. You’re teasing was getting too much for him to handle. He’s never seen this side of you. It excited him.

“Right!”

“Oh please, hurry, we’ll let Jimin know you had to leave early I’m sure he’ll understand.” Jimin’s mom said, pushing the two of you towards the exit.

Once the two of you were away, closer to the double doors of the reception hall you leaned in, “How are you holding up?”

“Get me out of here before I drag you to the nearest bathroom again.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” You hold your hand out before Yoongi can step any closer to your body. A sound of annoyance erupting from his chest. Once upon a time, Yoongi had prided himself in being patient. Tonight was not one of those times.

The second the two of you were alone in the elevator, his hands and mouth were all over you. Painting beautiful flowers with his mouth against your skin. The noises he had elicited from you made his chest swell with pride and his cock throb painfully against his pants. Every ounce of self control he once harbored was long gone. He didn’t want to miss another second where he wasn’t touching you.

Yoongi had almost lost his mind while you were fumbling to get the door to your hotel room open. Though, that was mainly his fault, he literally couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

Yet, now that you were finally in the safety of your hotel room, Yoongi didn’t understand why you were still resisting him and it made him even more frustrated both sexually and emotionally. “What, what do I have to wait for now, I’m so close to coming in my pants please just let me fuck you.” He all but begged, even considered getting down on his knees and kissing the ground you walked on. Though, when he saw you smirk, he knew he had done exactly what you had hoped he would do.

“Fuck you.” He closed the distance, sighing when you innocently took a step back.

“I’m trying to but I need to take my shoes off.” You pouted, pointing to your heel cladded feet in front of you, arms behind your back as you swayed from side to side. Yoongi shook his head before taking you into your arms and walking you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed. You fell back sitting down as Yoongi got down on his knees in front of you.

“Are you punishing me?” He asked with a pout on his lips.

You giggled placing both of your hands against his cheeks and squishing them. “Yes.” You affirmed kissing his lips, “I think you deserve it for leaving me.” You gave his cheeks a light tap. “Now get to work or I’ll kick you out.”

Yoongi scoffed, placing your left foot on top of his knees. His fingers unbuckling the buckle around your ankle slowly, his eyes burning holes into your soul. You swallowed nervously as he slipped it off, his lips connecting with the skin of your ankle, kissing the tiny stick n poke tattoo he had given you after a particularly stressful week of finals, almost three years ago.

It was crooked. The points of the star weren’t as perfect as he would’ve liked them to be. But it had been entirely your fault. You kept moving, yelping out in dramatized agony every time he poked the needle into your skin, tears welling up in the corner of your eyes. He knew you were just doing it to scare him. Your pain tolerance was higher than any normal human being, which is why he continued his masterpiece, ignoring your pleas to stop. Nevertheless, with a childish pout you had expressed your love for it in more ways than one and vowed to never cover it up no matter what.

You had kept true to your word.

“I didn’t mean to.” He sighed, kissing your inner thigh, then moving to the other one. He had long removed your other heel and was now showering you with all the kisses he hadn’t been able to give you in the last year and a half. “I didn’t want to break up with you.”

His hands traveled up the side of your legs, pushing your dress up further until the white lace of your panties were visible to his soft eyes. He bit his lip, taking in how much of an effect he still had on you. In all honesty, it made him feel on top of the world that your body was still so responsive to his touch.

“Why did you?” Your voice wavered and you blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. Though, you had agreed with his decision to break things off. It had hurt more than you had intended it to hurt. You were left dazed and confused wondering how he could just wake up one day and decide that you weren’t enough for him anymore.

“You stopped chasing your dreams because of me.” The guilt he had felt every time he held you while you cried out in anger spilled out. The tears now fell down your eyes while he laid you down, taking your dress with him, bringing it over your head and throwing it to the side knocking over the glass of water you kept on your nightstand every night.

You jumped hitting his chest, “That dress was expensive.” You sniffed and wrapped your arms around his neck, “you’re the biggest idiot I know, I hate you.” You said, burying your head into his chest, mascara staining his pristine white dress shirt, while you unbuttoned it.

He knew you weren’t crying because of the dress, but this was also not what he meant when he wanted to have you crying tonight. You were right, he was an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, grabbing your head making you look at him. His own eyes were now filled with tears as he wiped away your own. “I didn’t know what else to do. You weren’t happy.” He kissed your cheek then moved down to your neck, tonguing the spot underneath your ear that he knew would have you weak in your knees. “I-I wasn’t happy.” He confessed against your skin.

He had never once said it out loud and now that he had, while you pushed his shirt off his shoulders, undressing him further, he felt childish. “You could’ve just talked to me about it.” You sighed moving your hands down his chest, your manicured nails scraping his skin lightly. He shuddered, the coldness of your touch was something he had never been able to get used to. He had missed it.

“I know.” He licked down your neck, his fingers playing with your bottom lip, taping it lightly. “I didn’t know how to approach the situation.” His eyes all but rolled back as you took his fingers into your mouth, moaning around his digits. Your mouth was so hot and wet. He wanted to be inside of it, fucking it until you were sputtering and crying tears of pleasure, his precum mixing with your saliva. But he decided he could wait to fulfill his fantasy, right now he needed to show you much he still loved and cared about you.

Yoongi took his fingers out of your mouth, trailing his moist digits down your neck, painting a masterpiece until they wrapped around your nipples, pinching it, while his mouth kissed around your other nipple. The low sighs of pleasure you were making were astronomical. A beautiful melody he will never get tired of listening to.

“S-So you decided to break up with me, f-fuck.” You gasped when he lightly bit down on your nipple. It was euphoric, enough to have you reaching your orgasm. You were overly sensitive, overwhelmed with the fact that he was so close to you again.

“I thought we already agreed that I’m an idiot.” He joked and sat back on his knees, pushing your thighs apart with his hands. The only thing keeping you covered were your panties that were sticking onto you like a second skin and it was driving him insane.

“Let me keep reminding you then.” You smirked and sat up on your elbows, lifting your hips from the bed to meet his. “Break my heart again and I’ll cut off your dick, and this time I sincerely mean it my love.” He shuddered, your menacing words filled with possibilities and hope. Hope that after tonight you and him could start over again.

“Have I ever told you how much you actually scare me?” He tilted his head with curiosity, pushing your panties to the side. His mouth watering when he felt how truly wet you were for him. He wanted you in every single way possible. To drink you up like sweet honey dew juice. If he wasn’t so impatient he would’ve buried his face in between your legs, until you were cumming on his tongue.

“Once or twice.” You lifted your hips as he slid your panties down your legs. He threw them to the side giving your hip a light kiss. “Maybe more than three times.” You gasped as he pushed two of his fingers inside of you.

His eyes catching sight the other miniscule stick n poke tattoo he had given you after graduation. This time it was a beautiful cursive ‘y’ adorning the skin of your mound, the adrenaline along with the alcohol that was running through both of your veins that night, had numbed you out enough to have you lying still, giggling at his concentration instead of screaming out in pain.

He moved his fingers, his cock aching to be freed from it’s constraints. He was so painfully hard, aching to be buried inside of you. “I think I told you more than that.” He curled his fingers, hitting the mushy spot inside of you making you gasp.

“Yoongi, whatever, just please get inside of me before I kick you out.” You arched your back, lifting your hips as his fingers slowly teased you, opening you up for him. You hadn’t been fucked in such a long time. In fact, the last person you had sex with you was the one teasing you right now.

He huffed rolling his eyes and took out his fingers. “Stop threatening me like that.” He said, bringing his fingers up to your mouth, painting your lips with your arousal. “It hurts my feelings.”

“Then hurry up.” Your fingers reached over playing with the button of his pants, popping it open as you eyed him through lust filled hooded eyes, “We can play more another day, right now I need you inside of me before I die.” You pleaded. His eyes got wide, his mind ran faster than usual, making sure he had heard you right.

Another time, you had said. He had heard you right. His hearing wasn’t as bad as he claims it to be, especially when it came to you and anything that leaves your mouth. He nodded and helped you push his pants along with his boxers down his legs. He kicked them away. A low moan escaped his lips when he felt your delicate hand wrap around his hard cock. Your thumb running over his red tip, spreading around the precum.

“Do you have a condom?” He asked in a choked whisper as he tried his hardest not to cum in your hand.

You shook your head no, a pout forming on your lips, “I don’t, I thought you would have one.” You kissed his chest lightly as you kept moving your hand around him. “I’m still on the pill though.” You pulled away and looked up at him giving him a knowing wink.

He swallowed and pushed you softly, laying you down. “Honestly, I didn’t think this would ever happen again so I didn’t bring anything.”

Your hand around him fell to your side as he climbed over you slowly. “Tell me if it hurts okay, I’ll stop.” He reassured before aligning himself up at your entrance. He ran the tip of his cock over your pussy gathering your essence before pushing himself in.

“Y-Yoongi, oh my g-god, f-fuck.” You arched your back, digging your nails into the skin of his shoulders. You felt so deliciously good around him, your name falling out of his lips like a silent prayer.

He buried his face into your neck, planting open mouthed down your neck, biting down lightly when he felt you clench around him. “Can I keep going?” He mumbled. “I need to feel all of you.”

“Yes, please Yoongi please.” You gasped when you felt him bottoming out inside of you. The pleasure was mind numbing. Your pussy stretching over his cock after such a long time was otherworldly.

His hands found yours and he intertwined your fingers with his, placing your arms above your head as he started thrusting into you slowly. His eyes burning into yours, refusing to let your gaze go.

Nothing was heard, except for skin slapping against skin. His low grunts combining with your loud moans as he fucked into you faster. The sound of your wet pussy motivating him to continue his ministries. Neither of you were sure how much time had passed, the only thing that mattered was the desperate chase of your highs.

“Make me cum please.” You pleaded over and over again, as he pistoned his hips into you faster and harder. The knot forming against the pit of your stomach. You kept clenching around him and he knew you were close to the edge. He was too, he could feel the tightness of his balls as his thrusts became sloppy.

“B-Baby, I’m close.” He bit down on your neck as you arched your back, your nipples brushing against his lightly.

You dug your nails into his knuckles, raising your hips to meet his desperate thrusts. “Me too, I’m so close.” You gasped as he rolled his hips into yours. The change of rhythm had you screaming out in pleasure.

He let go of one of your hands, not wasting a second in finding your swollen clit, rubbing fast circles against it with his thumb, “Gonna cum around me my angel, gonna let me paint your walls white.” He panted, his sweaty bangs falling over his eyes. He looked like a greek God, Adonis himself.

“F-Fuck yes Yoongi, fuck I-I’m coming.” You choked out, the pressure at the pit of your stomach finally breaking. Your pussy fluttering around him, your orgasm taking over your body in pleasure filled spasms.

Yoongi pushes into you harder, his thumb working against your clit as you ride out your high beneath him. Seeing you so fucked out was enough to tether over the edge, in a silent moan, his own orgasm taking over his body, painting your walls with his sticky substance, filling you up to the brink. “G-God, I love you.” He said after he had somewhat composed himself.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into your body. You didn’t want him to move yet, “I love you too Yoongi.” You whispered leaving innocent pecks against his jawline. He chuckled laying his head against your chest. You brushed his hair away from his face. Both of your chests heaving at the same time, as you tried to catch your breaths.

“Was that okay?” He spoke after a long moment of silence. He rested his chin against your chest looking at you through worrisome eyes. “You don’t hate me anymore right?”

“I never did.” You smiled, making his heart sore, “It was perfect, I missed you...a lot” You added kissing his nose.

“I missed you too, maybe a little too much if I’m being honest. I really am sorry angel.” He cuddled into you further, feeling himself grow soft inside of you. You felt his arousal along with yours slide down your legs and you had to hold back from begging him to take you again and again.

“I know just don’t do it again.”

“I’d be actually crazy if I did.”

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 3 years ago

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Well, ladies and gentlemen, I spent 4 years studying ecology, behavior, and evolution an accredited university...and now I use it to write gay fanfiction about a karate soap opera. Granted, my school’s career services were pretty shite, and they never quite made it clear what I should be using my degree for, but I’m pretty sure it’s not this.

AND YET.

Anyways I have a long-standing headcanon that Eli has a special interest in “badass” animals (namely raptors and reptiles) that really intensified around the time he got super into Cobra Kai. And now, naturally, I’m going to subject the rest of you to it, AND use it as an excuse to infodump all the random-ass animal facts I know!!!

(Also credit to @asphodel-storm because part of what really solidified this headcanon was seeing her use it in her fic Second Chances and I was like :O Yes!!! Hawk loves badass animals!!!)

Ever wondered why Demetri just had random knowledge about snake pupil shapes queued up to lecture Kreese about??? Like how on EARTH would you know that off the top of your head unless you either a) had a specific interest in snakes or reptiles (which I haven’t really seen from Demetri other than that) or b) you had someone in close proximity constantly infodumping to you about reptiles, and you hung on their every word OR you independently researched reptile facts to impress/better engage with that person??? Because take it from me, niche snake pupil trivia is NOT something that any “science nerd” would know. Like I was none the wiser about the round vs. slit snake pupil thing, and I was in a bio-adjacent major!

Also like. Dem and Eli should probably talk about the fact that Kreese apparently shattered Dem’s nose to the point of him needing stitches??? So here I make them! Angst (but also some much-needed closure) ensues.

“He’s a man of few words...unless you bring up reptiles or birds of prey. Then he will have far more words than you’re prepared to handle.” --Demetri about Eli, at some point prior to the show probably

Chapter 1: Here

Chapter 2: Here

Chapter 3: Here

All 3 are also posted on my AO3, SummerPhlox!

CW here for homophobia and some sexist talk/language at the end (sadly, the teachings of my problematic fave Johnny Lawrence don’t die easy). Be warned, this is the longest of these bad bois yet!!! A whopping 7k+ words! Keep Reading at your dash’s risk!

***

The Nature Center

“Come on, come on, come on!”

Demetri lets himself be unceremoniously dragged through the cactus gardens, Eli’s grip around his wrist stronger than some of the rock formations they’ve driven past. Saguaros and organ pipes and barrels alike whip past at alarming speeds, and Demetri considers telling Eli he could be very grievously injured if he hypothetically were to be rammed into one. Say, for example, if he had a friend yanking him into a desert wildlife nature center at roughly 40 miles per hour.

He sighs wearily. “We’re on an urgent mission to save our best friend from certain doom, and you still want to stop here and dick around.”

“It’ll only be a couple hours,” Eli mumbles as he maneuvers them around a particularly frightening-looking cholla patch.

Demetri grinds his feet into the dirt, pulling his friend back. Eli stumbles and loses his balance, nearly sending them both careening into the chollas.

Demetri frowns. “A couple hours?”

His friend turns, giving him a pair of the big, sad eyes that have caused him no shortage of trouble over the years. “One hour?” he says, a little too hopefully.

Demetri sighs. “Okay. Not a second longer, though. And you’re doing all the night driving we inevitably get stuck with. All the way to Mazatlán!”

“Deal.” Eli turns back to the faded adobe building, and the dragging resumes.

Something soft brushes against Demetri’s leg. He tenses, suddenly concerned about the number of wild tarantula species in Mexico. His eyes flick down, and he slackens with relief when he catches sight of nothing more than a sprig of breeze-battered pink wildflowers.

They’re almost to the doors—and out of the unforgiving heat—when Eli lurches to a stop.

“Dem, look!” Eli tugs on his arm, pointing at a nearby rock. “Looklooklook!”

Any annoyance in Demetri abruptly drains out, replaced by a soft warmth. It’s been a long time since Eli’s called him Dem. Maybe even longer since he’s seen Eli this excited about something.

Demetri squints, spotting a mottled brown lizard doing enough push-ups to make Eli’s workout routine look shabby. As the little creature goes up and down, he catches glimpses of bright blue under the chin—a tiny, puffed-up dewlap, probably. The color reminds him of a certain mohawk that once made his life very…interesting.

Across the sun-baked rock are two slightly-smaller light brown lizards—presumably females. They both stare vacantly out into the desert air, the male’s exuberant display lost on them.

Eli nudges him, snickering. “Look, he’s trying to get babes.” He cups his hands around his mouth and hoots. “Work it!”

Demetri smiles sadly, shaking his head. “Doesn’t seem like a successful endeavor thus far.”

Eli scoffs. “Their loss! Who doesn’t want a guy who works out?”

As if to demonstrate, Eli strikes a pose and flexes a bicep. Demetri groans.

“Oh, great. I thought you were past this.”

“You wish. The Power of the Hawk is never finished!” Eli spreads his arms and lets out a bellow. Despite himself, Demetri laughs.

“How am I best friends with such a hammy idiot?”

“That’s a two-way street, my friend.” Eli smirks, slapping him on the back.

Eli’s hand lingers on his shoulder blade as they glance back at the rock. The male lizard has sped up his push-ups substantially, as though achieving supersonic pace will at last impress the ladies.

Currently, it is not. Both female lizards have closed their eyes, the male’s dramatics having apparently put them to sleep.

“You see his dewlap?” Demetri asked.

“He has a dewlap?” Eli squints. “Wow. I totally clocked his species wrong.”

“Barely. I’m just getting little flashes of it.” Demetri breaks into a smirk. “I guess blue is the color of overcompensation.”

“I gue—HEY!” He laughs as an elbow collides with his ribs. “Don’t make fun of the blue ‘hawk! It got your dumb ass, like, 7 beers!”

And I needed about 3 more to stomach you swapping spit with Moon.

Demetri thinks better of saying it aloud.

He really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing the color blue, anyways. Blue is the color of so many nice things.

Miyagi-Do. Ravenclaw house. The TARDIS. Spock’s uniform. Obi-Wan Kenobi’s lightsaber. Captain Marvel. Eli’s eyes. Stuff like that.

“It wasn’t the worst look for you,” Demetri admits. “I think that award goes solidly to the firetruck rooster hairdo.” His smirk widens. “Didn’t help that you were being such a cock.”

Eli groans. “Get that on one of your stupid pun shirts, why don’t you?”

“Maybe I will! Just a picture of you doing that wannabe scary scowl of yours and a big caption that says ‘Don’t be a cock!’”

He does a sweeping motion with his hands as he says it, and earns a reluctant snigger from Eli.

“Oh, my god. I hate you.”

“I’ll make one, and wear it to graduation instead of robes.”

“You’d better not. I’ll sob to Counselor Blatt until she withholds your diploma.”

“Ah, yes! The woman who singlehandedly stopped bullying at West Valley High! I’m sure she’ll be completely proficient at navigating high school bureaucracy to prevent me from graduating.”

Eli snickers. “Yeah, okay, fair. I guess I’ll have to make an equally embarrassing shirt of you.”

“Well, good luck finding an embarrassing aspect of my personality that I don’t also embrace wholeheartedly.”

On the rock, the two female lizards decide they have seen one push-up too many and skitter off. Eli lets out a disappointed cry, looking genuinely a little sad.

“Aw, little buddy! They didn’t deserve you, anyway.”

Demetri snaps a twig off a nearby shrub and starts toward the rock. “Maybe we can give him a free lunch to help him feel better.”

Eli sneers at him, snatching the twig away and chucking it over his shoulder. “Lizards don’t eat wood, you idiot. They’re insectivores like 90% of the time.”

The lizard’s head shoots up as they approach, pondering them for a moment. Before Demetri can figure out how to go about acquiring a dead bug, the reptile scampers under the branches of a creosote bush and is gone.

“Anyways.” Eli’s hand slides down and fastens around Demetri’s wrist again, returning to yanking him toward the nature center. “There’s lots of other shit to see. Come on!”

As they head toward the entrance, Eli’s gaze flicks back to the now-empty rock.

“Can’t believe that fucker had a dewlap,” he muses, half to himself. “No idea what he was supposed to be. I really thought whiptail. Maybe alligator lizard, but I don’t think they live this far south. Besides, the markings aren’t quite right. And he’s too dark to be a brush lizard.” He curls his lip. “It’s going to drive me fucking nuts.”

Demetri smiles, fondness starting to trickle through him. Apparently the “badass animal” special interest is cycling back around again.

Better that than karate cults.

The wave of cool air hits Demetri as soon as Eli opens the door, so eagerly it nearly smacks the taller boy in the face. The nature center is surprisingly crowded, the air filled with tinny animal noises that can only come from several small children pressing every display button at once. Kids are being chased by many a stressed parent, snapping at them in both Spanish and English. Nonetheless, there’s no entrance fee, so perhaps Demetri should count his blessings.

“You sure about this?” He raises his eyebrows. “Seems like a tourist trap.”

“Demetri! They have a tarantula section! We are going!”

There’s no time to argue before he is being pulled along once again. Demetri wonders idly when Eli went from an arachnophobe who hid in baggy sweaters every time Aragog came on screen to thinking tarantulas were the coolest shit he had ever seen, apparently. Probably a particularly brutal brand of exposure therapy while trying to be Cobra Kai’s toughest fighter.

It makes Demetri’s stomach churn, thinking of Eli bullying the terror out of himself, but he shakes the thought away. It’s months behind them, and Eli is okay now.

Besides, Demetri hardly minds Eli being a fearless force of nature, when he isn’t using that energy to break arms and commit felonies and such.

“Oh, shit! They literally liquify their prey and start digesting it! That’s so metal. And apparently there’s this really fucked up species of parasitic wasp that lays eggs inside tarantulas and then the larvae eat them from the inside out—”

Eli begins eagerly feeling up a large, hairy model of a tarantula leg. Demetri passes.

Before he knows it, he’s being yanked to the scorpion information panel on the other side. “Oh my god, these things can fucking kill you if they sting you. That’s so cool. And they have these weird hairs on their legs they can detect movement and shit with, so if you go anywhere near one, you’re already screwed, and they also like—”

Demetri starts to worry that it may be difficult convincing Eli to leave.

“—and venom in general is so wild, man. Like that shit goes in and fucks up your spine so you’re just frozen as you die. What a way to go. Although if I was a mouse or whatever, I think going out to a Gila monster would be pretty sick. Like at least you die with dignity. Better than a cactus falling on you. And I mean—”

Eli opens up little boxed information panels with reckless abandon, commentary not ceasing the entire time.

“—are you fucking kidding me? They really called this asshole an ‘earless lizard?’ All lizards are earless, idiot! I mean, unless you count earholes, but there’s a difference between those and ‘ears.’ And the lesser earless lizard, too?! Like it’s bad enough some dick is calling attention to the fact that you don’t have ears, but now these poor fucks can’t even have self-esteem? It’s depressing, Demetri, I’m telling you—”

He stops mid-rant, suddenly turning to gape at something behind Demetri. Demetri feels his friend’s finger ram into his side several times.

“Oh my god. There’s a snake room?!”

Demetri chuckles, shaking his head fondly. “You are so predictable, Eli Moskowitz.”

“Look, just because Cobra Kai are assholes doesn’t mean actual snakes aren’t still sick as fuck.”

Demetri is once again being tugged across the tile floor and into the next room. At this point, he simply lets it happen.

“I read up on it a while back, and there’s actually a shitton of rattlesnake species,” Eli goes on. “They’re not even the most badass ones, though—kingsnakes will just fucking wrap them up and eat them. Rattlesnake venom doesn’t do shit to them. It’s insane. And that’s not even touching on gopher snakes—those things can get like 10 feet long, and like that’s not enough to get anyone to fuck off, they can reshape their damn heads and pretend to be rattlesnakes and I think—”

Eli’s rant fades into the background as Demetri squints at the artwork on the snake information plaque. A vast, starry sky stretches out behind silhouettes of mountains, cacti, and shrubs. In the foreground, a moon-washed creature appearing to be a nightsnake is poised with his head raised and his little forked tongue extended. His orange eyes, sliced by black slits, are glowing eerily in the darkness.

“Hey, Eli.” Demetri nudges the other boy. “Did they get the pupils right on that one?”

“—and the reason sidewinders do that whole creepy ribbon candy-looking thing is because it doesn’t move the sand around as much, so they won’t slide down the dune or whatever. Probably also mimics the wind so they can disguise movements and hunt better. Or not get eaten by shit hiding in the sand. You know, like that sand walk they do in Dune? So the sand worms don’t—oh.”

Eli cuts his ramble short as Demetri’s question finally processes. The shorter boy studies the painting, gaze flicking to the information panel a few times.

“Yeah, vertical pupils are right,” he says finally. “A lot of patterned snakes have them. Something about making their eyes not stand out by having them look like scales or something.”

Demetri nods approvingly. “I do see how that could be unnerving. You know the thing’s looking at you, but you can’t tell from where. The kind of constant, invisible surveillance only seen in the bleakest of dystopias.”

Eli snorts. “You should write some desert wasteland Mad Max-type shit where the government uses automaton nightsnakes to spy on everyone. People would eat that up.”

Demetri chuckles. “You know, maybe I will! It’s not a bad backup plan, if the computer science career doesn’t work out.”

He looks again at the snake painting’s slit-pupiled eyes and sighs, shaking his head.

“You know, I still can’t believe that war criminal ex-sensei of yours is going around proclaiming to be a snake aficionado when he’s got such a blatantly incorrect king cobra on his arm.”

“Right? It’s kinda sad.”

Eli laughs, but it sounds forced. He looks away from the nightsnake display, shuffling awkwardly and not meeting Demetri’s eyes.

“I, ah…” Eli’s hand comes up to rub nervously at the back of his buzzcut. “I shouldn’t have been such a dick to you when he punched you in the face.”

Eli Moskowitz is not one to apologize over and over. Demetri figures that the first time gets the point across, in Eli’s opinion—no need to keep repeating it. It helps that Eli has always sucked at bullshitting. It isn’t hard to tell when the man is being genuine, if you know him well enough.

Nonetheless, Demetri knows that all the lingering guilt from Eli’s Cobra Kai fuckery didn’t just dissolve.

The fact really should not fill Demetri with as much smug glee as it does.

Perhaps “glee” is too strong—and too sadistic—a word for it. Perhaps it’s only relief. The ever-present relief that Eli really did mean it when he said he was sorry, and it wasn’t all some elaborate act (Eli has, regrettably, gotten a little better at bullshitting since the Hawk shtick). The relief that Eli is back with him—and works every day to make up for the very, very shitty 6 months he spent away from Demetri, terrorizing him and the rest of the Valley. The relief that Eli regrets his time spent being an asshole, and not the choice to turn his back on Kreese and all his bullshit.

Still, Demetri can’t resist being a little petty. Not when Eli Moskowitz peed in his bed at sleepovers for over 10 years and then acted like such an absolute shithead for several months.

And broke his heart. That too.

He nudges Eli’s side. “Are you just now realizing that?”

“No, I just, uh…I always felt a little bad about it.” He keeps rubbing his buzzcut. “You couldn’t admit that kind of thing in Cobra Kai. ‘The weak don’t belong’ and all that.”

Demetri snorts. “Charming sentiment. I do wonder what the endgame was for being ‘the baddest dojo in the Valley.’ Another secret, even bigger karate trophy? World domination?”

Eli laughs, seeming to relax slightly. “More like continuing to boost Sensei Kreese’s ego.”

“It gets much bigger than it already is, and he’ll be releasing some herpetological virus that makes all snake pupils shrink to slits, just so he doesn’t have to be wrong about something.”

Eli looks up at him, suddenly grimacing. “Did you really have to get stitches?”

“Oh, yeah.” Demetri winces at the memory. “I came home with my nose bleeding everywhere and my mom freaked out and rushed me to the ER. She yelled at like…7 nurses in Greek. It’s kind of funny, thinking back on it. Anyways, I probably didn’t need all 12 of those stitches, but you know how my mom is.”

“Sure do.” Eli chuckles softly. “I’m honestly surprised she was cool with us hanging out again, after…you know…”

He trails off, looking away. Demetri frowns.

“You know I didn’t tell her that was you, right?”

Eli’s head snapped back to him. “Huh?”

“She thinks it was some random new kid whose name I didn’t know.” Demetri rolls his eyes. “She already worries about anything and everything as is. Where do you think I get it from? I wasn’t about to tell her my wayward and misguided best friend is going around assaulting me.”

Eli winces, and Demetri feels a stab of guilt.

“Hey.” He lifts a hand and quickly squeezes Eli’s shoulder. “You know I’m not still mad about that. Frankly, though, I am a little insulted that you really think I’d snitch on you to my mom and get her on some kind of witch hunt after you. Besides, I’m not looking to collect another round of stitches, thank you very much.”

Eli breaks into a smile, sniggering. “Snitches get stitches. Anyways.” His face turns serious again. “I, uh…I owe you one for not telling your mom about…that. I don’t think she’d ever be able to look at me again.”

“She might plot your murder. Or worse, press charges.” Demetri made a face. “Listen, no matter how pissed I was at you, I didn’t want you getting beat up in juvie or six feet under.”

“I would not get beat up in juvie!”

“Oh, please. Juvie is full of people who don’t need karate to be scary. There’s always going to be a better fighter, especially if they were raised somewhere they’ve needed it all their life.”

Eli pouts defiantly. “I could take them!”

He still looks so young when he makes that face. Suddenly they’re 8 years old again, Eli on the verge of tears after the mean kid in the class took the last of the popsicle flavor they knew he liked. Even with the added muscles and the gritty back tattoo, it’s hard not to still see some of that sensitive little boy when Demetri looks at him.

He imagines that elementary school kid locked up in a prison yard, and he feels sick to his stomach.

“People get traumatized in there, Eli.” His voice drops, and he takes a step closer to his friend. “Doesn’t matter how tough you are. I don’t want you anywhere near there.”

“I could kick ass if I wanted to.” Eli grunts disapprovingly. “Besides, Cobra Kai can get away with whatever. Kreese has a bunch of the city officials wrapped around his finger because he’s a Vietnam vet. I figure that’s how he didn’t get arrested for aggravated assault, because there’s no way your mom wouldn’t have called the cops on him.”

“Oh! So you admit it! You admit it was aggravated assault!”

Demetri stuck a taunting finger in Eli’s face. Scowling, his friend ducked away.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. I looked it up too, and I didn’t want to admit you were right.”

“As I so often am,” Demetri added smugly.

“Not all the time!” Eli retorted. “What about…um…”

Demetri breaks into a conniving grin as Eli struggles to remember an instance where his supergenius best friend was, in fact, incorrect about something.

He hums mockingly. “That’s what I thought.”

Eli groans, slapping a hand to his face. “You were acting like your life was over after one sock to the face. You act like your life is over when you stub your toe. What was I supposed to think?!”

“Many people go their entire lives without a broken nose, Eli. I’d even managed to avoid getting any from Kyler so far.”

Eli’s hand drops, lip curling up in a hint of a smile. “He sure tried. You were always too quick for him.”

“Ah, yes.” Demetri shook his head at the memory. “The tried-and-true strategy: Squirm out of Kyler’s gross, sweaty grip and haul ass out of there. Quite the high drama. ‘Alexopoulos and Moskowitz, on the run for their lives!’”

He sweeps a hand for emphasis, and finally gets a chuckle out of Eli. “God, we were such sissies back then. Always just caving and running to our moms whenever there was trouble.”

Demetri shakes his head.

“Not always,” he argues. “You found out soon enough what happened if your mom caught wind and tried to meddle. And I never actually told my mom Mr. Anatomically Incorrect Cobra Tattoo was the one who broke my nose.”

“Really?” Eli looks up at him in surprise.

“You told me not to get your crazed karate teacher a year in prison and a $10,000 dollar fine, so I didn’t.” Demetri shrugs. “I went and vagued about my grievances via Yelp instead. Of course, that was still too much for you, but it seemed like the option that would cause you less distress overall.”

Eli raises his eyebrows. “I think the issue there is that you weren’t vague enough.”

Demetri only rolls his eyes. “I certainly could have gone into more gory detail if I’d wanted to—no pun intended. I simply chose not to.”

“I guess I should thank you for that.” Eli sighs, looking down. “I never realized that’s why you didn’t snitch. I just thought you were…” He trails off uncomfortably.

Demetri snorts. “What, scared of you? Don’t give yourself so much credit. I mean yes, you did kind of give me the heebie jeebies later on, but not after making a handful of douchey comments and yelling at me once over FaceTime. I have a slightly thicker skin than that.”

“Maybe it’d have been better in the long run, though. If you called the cops on him.” Eli shakes his head, smiling forlornly. “Could’ve saved us a lot of grief at the All Valley.”

“Yeah, right. I’m pretty sure you would have drowned me in the ocean and left my body for the sharks.”

“Would not! The ocean doesn’t need more pollution, Demetri.”

“A body isn’t pollution, it’s fresh food! An ecosystem contributor!”

“Your clothes, dumbass. You get eaten by eels or whatever and then everything on your person ends up either in something’s stomach or the Great Pacific Garbage Patch.”

“Well, I’m glad marine health is important enough to you for you to cancel your murder plans, Eli.”

“What can I say? I’m a California progressive.” He smirks a little before his face falls again. “In all seriousness…yeah, I would’ve been really pissed, but I’d get over it when I heard how full of shit he really was. It’d be okay in the end.” Eli bristles slightly. “He deserves it.”

Demetri feels his friend tense up beside him, and a wave of concern ripples through him.

Demetri knows he’ll never admit it, of course, but Eli is scared of John Kreese. Scared of what a man who has seen war and clawed his way out to the other side and knows how to twist people any way he wants might still do to a traitor.

“He’ll get his just desserts eventually.” Demetri reaches up and gives Eli’s shoulder another squeeze. “The cops can’t always turn a blind eye to…well, whatever he does in that cursed dojo of his. I’d wager only about…maybe 30% of it is actually legal.”

Eli laughs softly, leaning into his touch. “30%? That’s generous, Demetri. I doubt it even tops 15.”

A distinctive piercing screech runs through the nature center, made tinny and artificial by poor-quality speakers. Eli’s eyes widen.

“Oh my god,” he breathes. “They have a raptor section?!”

Demetri raises his eyebrows. “How do you know the soundtrack isn’t just queuing up for you to fight someone?”

Eli snorts. “Because if I had a soundtrack, it’d have way better sound quality than that. I live in LA, not some midwestern shithole with terrible production design.”

He starts frantically looking around, head whipping in every direction as he tries to locate the source of the cry.

“Where is it?” he demands to no one in particular. “Where’s the bird of prey room?!”

“Calm down, Harley Qui—”

He isn’t even able to finish the statement before his wrist is once again being tugged to the exit by an insistent (but nonetheless very warm) hand. Eli is relentless, wrenching him from room to room with the drive of a persistence predator with unlimited stamina. Demetri wonders idly if this is how humans managed to rise to the top of the food chain—i.e. dragging their long-suffering friends all over the place with no end in sight.

It's a wonder, really, how the Nature Center Society of Mexico or whatever-have-you has the budget to make so many rooms in a tiny building in the middle of nowhere. The electricity bills needed to cool the place down to a reasonable temperature must be astronomical. Demetri feels like he’s in some anxiety-inducing fever dream, rushing around a strange, unfamiliar location and being utterly unable to find what he’s looking for.

Or at least he would feel that way if Eli wasn’t holding onto him like a damn lifeline once again.

That seems to be happening a lot lately. Demetri is not going to complain.

The hawk screech sounds again, louder and even more grating this time. Eli lets out a triumphant bellow and pulls Demetri down one last hallway. They burst into a sunlit room, panoramic window giving an excellent view of some distant, dusty mountains.

That isn’t what catches Eli’s attention, though.

The ceiling is spangled with hanging birds. Plastic and stuffed models alike are suspended by delicate wires, beaks parted and wings spread wide. Demetri looks up and sees everything from owls to eagles to ospreys to falcons to kestrels to grackles to woodpeckers to tiny doves and finches.

It’s like walking into an aviary where some all-powerful wizard has managed to freeze time.

And, of course, there’s no less than 3 different species of hawk. He braces himself to get a massive earful about each one.

Eli looks around—mouth hanging open, more than a little starstruck. He breaks into the biggest beam Demetri’s ever seen, so large that Demetri is honestly surprised his face can contain it.

He probably feels like he’s flying as much as the dangling birds are.

Demetri remembers the dumb bit from Titanic where Kate Winslet stands on the edge of the ship and excitedly tells Leo DiCaprio that she’s flying. Certainly not on the level of actually having wings, he’s sure, but still perhaps worth re-enacting if he and Eli ever find themselves on a boat. (And they live 30 minutes from the ocean—it’s not an outlandishly unlikely possibility.) Still something Eli might enjoy.

“Oh, dude!” Demetri is tugged across the floor as Eli points up at a mass of deep brown feathers tinged with reddish-orange. “They have Harris’s hawk here?! These fuckers are so cool. They hunt in packs. Imagine being lost in the desert and you finally see buildings in the distance and then you get mowed down by a hoard of these guys. It would suck, but it would be a sick way to go. And—oh, my god! They have these too?!”

Demetri can only follow as Eli’s attention is captured by another type of hawk. This one is a bit smaller, underbelly a brown-speckled white.

“I read about those,” Eli says importantly, pointing. “They actually pounce like cats. Like they’ll hide in the bushes and just explode out at you. It’s weird as hell. Pretty badass, though. Oh, shit, Demetri, look! These little fucks!”

Demetri barely has time to get a look at the strange pouncing raptor before Eli has already yanked him to the next one. It’s nearly identical to the last, but it’s the smallest yet—barely bigger than the jays that frequent his mom’s birdfeeder.

“I read somewhere the males help raise the chicks, but they’re deadbeat dads.” Eli sniggers. “They eat all the mouse heads before they even get back to the nest, and apparently that’s the best part. So they hog all the good shit for themselves and bring their kids a bunch of saggy leftovers. Birds can be dicks, man.”

“I don’t know.” Demetri nudges him playfully in the side. “Out of all the ones we’ve seen, that’s the one that reminds me most of you.”

Eli’s head shoots up to glare at him. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Well, he’s certainly small enough to be you. A tiny hawk that eats mouse heads—sounds about right.”

“Hey!” Eli lifts a leg and kicks his shin—soft, but firm. Enough to make him wince slightly, but not enough to stop his chortling. “You’re just mad I know more about raptors than you.”

“I promise you, I am not.” Despite himself, Demetri smiles. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I am quite impressed. However, the fact that you’re some kind of amateur bird expert doesn’t exactly fill me with an envious rage.”

Eli smirks at him. “It will, after I tell you all the shit I know about gray hawks.”

Demetri chuckles. “All right, Professor Moskowitz, take it away.”

Their next stop is near the back corner of the room, underneath an admittedly very pretty bird. This hawk is a sleek silvery gray, belly interspersed with tiny white stripes. Eli is talking before they even arrive.

“—and the really cool thing is they’re actually super good at flying through trees, and sometimes they just snatch shit right off the branches. They basically only eat reptiles, and it’s fucking badass. Like they can eat fucking spiny lizards and somehow not like…gash up their throats at all? They’re going around swallowing the animal equivalent of spiked maces several times a day, and they don’t give a single shit about it. They can also catch fucking whipsnakes, and I mean, have you seen a whipsnake?! They’re fast as shit! And whipsnakes can eat rattlesnakes, it’s insane. And then a fucking gray hawk can swoop in and snatch them up like it’s nothing. I think they eat horned lizards too, and it’s like—”

Eli’s enthused presentation fades into the background as Demetri becomes acutely aware of something.

He’s fairly certain that not once since they stepped into this godforsakenly huge building has Eli let go of his hand.

Sure, having a grip on Demetri’s wrist was best for optimal yanking and making sure Demetri didn’t try to escape the onslaught of desert animal fun facts. Also ensuring they didn’t get separated in the oddly large crowd. The interesting part, however, is that somewhere in their jaunt around the nature center, Eli’s fingers have slid down to clasp Demetri’s.

Demetri wonders when it happened. Judging by how warm his hand feels, probably a while ago.

Strange that he didn’t notice. Demetri guesses it somehow felt so natural that when his synapses informed him of it, it only stayed for a moment before being casually dismissed. He didn’t even give it a second thought.

Demetri and Eli used to hold hands when they were much younger. In elementary school, it was one of the few ways to calm Eli down when he was on the edge of falling into a panic or succumbing to a meltdown. Sometimes when things got to be too stressful and overwhelming and Eli got caught up in his head, it helped to give him a concrete link to the physical world. It helped with the bullies, too—a small gesture of physical affection to remind him that even if no one else had his back, Demetri always would.

Perhaps it had been a little possessive, too. A way to assure that if someone came along, friend or foe, and tried to grab Eli Moskowitz away, there would be resistance.

Demetri smirks, amused by the memory. He imagines a younger version of himself shooting threatening glares at the kids who came anywhere near Eli.

He hadn’t trusted the lot of them. They were quick to feign friendliness and put a knife to your back. Nonetheless, he meant to send another message as well.

Find your own friend! This one’s mine!

Regardless, it currently seems that it also felt so natural to Eli that he either hadn’t noticed they were holding hands (and had been for some time now), or he was doing it on purpose. Demetri isn’t sure which possibility he likes better.

“Eli?” He breaks into a slow smile.

“—and they’re insanely good at what equates to like…bird air acrobatics, like they can swerve through basically anything and so even if you run into some really tangled thicket or whatever, you’re still probably fucked, and—yeah?” Eli cuts himself off to look at Demetri, eyes curious.

“Are you planning on letting go of my hand anytime soon?”

Brief terror flashes across Eli’s face, like he was hoping Demetri either wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t say anything. (No such luck.) It quickly fades, however, to be replaced by a sharp cunning Demetri didn’t expect.

“No.” He lowers his voice. “Because it’s really pissing off those people over there.”

His eyes surreptitiously flick to the side. Demetri glances over to see an elderly couple, looking to be plucked straight from a conservative Arizona retirement home and glowering at them like they just took a knife to the vitals of several children. He gives them the most pleasantly passive-aggressive smile he can manage. They scoff, in almost perfect we’ve-been-married-50-years type sync, and turn to study a nearby cactus wren display.

“So it is.” Demetri’s smile widens. “How long have they been watching us, exactly?”

“A while,” Eli says smugly, refusing to specify further. “I followed them over here. Thought I’d get our gay contaminants even closer to their Christian Family Values.”

Demetri chuckles. “That was a very good call.”

Eli’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “You know what would piss them off even more?”

“Do tell.”

Eli, apparently, would prefer to show. He stands on his toes, wrapping his free arm around Demetri’s neck and pressing their lips together.

He tastes like fast food hash browns, espresso, raptor trivia, and spite. He kisses hard—and Demetri knows he’s doing it to put on a show, but he can’t help but relish it anyway.

A little egotistical of him, maybe, but he likes to be shown off. Even if it’s only to stick it to a couple homophobes who look to have been around since the fall of the Roman Empire.

Demetri wraps his untethered arm around Eli’s waist, pulling him closer. If Eli wants to make this into an elaborate performance, far be it from him not to join in.

It’s honestly a shame his heart can’t run the infamous gym class mile in his place, with how fast it’s going right now. Its time would rival the cross country team captain’s.

He tilts down to dip Eli slightly, and the other boy leans into it. They move in the same unspoken sync they did at the Christmas house fight, the same sync that linked them at the hip for 10 years. It’s not difficult to feed off each other’s body signals, to move together like they’re one creature.

It’s something so integral to Demetri’s being that it nearly destroyed him when he lost it.

And now Eli Moskowitz might well destroy him again, by kissing him just a little too eagerly in the middle of a Sonoran desert nature center. Demetri wonders how many times it will have to happen before he gets a grip on himself.

Maybe he never will.

When Eli finally pulls away, his grin is blinding. The two of them turn to see the elderly couple now regarding them as though they set several orphanages ablaze. Eli beams at the pair, giving them a bird to go with the rest of the room. They storm toward the exit, the woman muttering something about how “there are children here.”

Ironic, really, given that the subjects of her grievances are far from legal adults themselves.

***

“Eli. Eli.”

Demetri receives no reply aside from continued huffs and pants.

“Eli, I am begging you to stop doing push-ups on my dashboard.”

“Absolutely not.” Eli puffs out the words in between heavy, overdramatic breaths. “How else am I supposed to get swole and land Mexican bitches?”

Demetri sighs. He tries to push away the part of his stomach that twists itself in a sad little knot.

“I really don’t think you should be basing your strategy to ‘land Mexican bitches’ off a lizard who lost the interest of both bitches he was attempting to land.”

Eli snorts. “Those bitches just had bad taste. I could find better ones in my sleep.”

Demetri rolls his eyes. Eli’s probably just messing with him, but he still feels a prickle of annoyance.

“Since when do you still care about this inane alpha male stuff again, anyways? I was really hoping you joining Miyagi Do meant Johnny Lawrence would stop rubbing off on you.”

“A guy’s gotta get laid, Demetri. And if we do it in Mexico, it’s no strings attached. Besides, I haven’t been in so long.”

Demetri wrinkles his nose. “You whiny baby. Just jack off like the rest of us. Look, a center of education is one thing, but I refuse to let us get off track on our very important rescue mission because you’re thinking with your dick.”

“You’re such a fucking nerd,” Eli sneers, although probably not with as much malice as he was hoping for.

“There, there.” Demetri takes a hand off the wheel to grab onto Eli’s ever-moving shoulder, giving it a couple squeezes. “I’m sure there will be plenty of time for acquiring ass after we make sure Miguel isn’t in mortal danger. We had our fun half an hour ago.” He gestures behind them. “The fun of a more…carnal nature we can save for later.”

“Get off, man! You’re messing up my rhythm!”

Eli roughly shakes his hand off, and Demetri sighs again.

“You’re ridiculous. You’re telling me that little make-out sesh we had in there didn’t tide you over at all?”

“Didn’t we establish that kind of thing doesn’t count?”

“As I recall, your qualification was ‘no witnesses.’ We had at least 20 in the bird room.”

Eli splutters, determined dashboard push-ups slowing for just a minute. “But I was just—I was trying to—fine! But it’s not the same as getting pussy.”

Demetri resists the urge to gag.

“You know, you don’t have to use all your ‘badass cool guy’ buzzwords here. It’s just me. You sound ridiculous when you say ‘getting pussy.’”

Although the push-ups start again, Eli seems genuinely crestfallen. This only makes Demetri more annoyed.

“I just figured while we’re here…” Eli starts, trailing off.

Demetri scoffs. “What, you think the locals are going to be racing to get a piece of the two California white boys who just rolled into town?”

“Maybe!” Eli snaps. “I don’t know. We might seem exotic or something. Or they could be impressed with the karate skills.”

“Look, while I’m sure not everyone in Mexico knows karate, I’d bet enough people do to make us not seem like much of a catch.”

“Do you always have to be like that?!”

“Like what?”

“Assuming the worst of everything!”

Somehow, no girls wanting to have sex with them in Mexico seems far from the worst-case scenario. In fact, Eli not getting naked with a member of the opposite sex for this entire trip is a scenario that brings Demetri more joy than it should.

I’m such a bad friend. Damn.

Demetri wished he knew why Eli was so hung up on girls. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what the big deal was. Exploring the female body was mildly interesting, but he couldn’t fathom how it could be such a potent motivator—especially after the lackluster way things had fizzled out with Yasmine.

Girls were fun, sure, and relaxing to spend time with after you’d been around a little too much testosterone. But it perplexed him how they were such an all-consuming force in so many guys’ minds.

“Ah, yes,” he says. “Contemplating us taking no sex stops on this trip truly is the worst-case scenario. Forget arriving in Mexico City and realizing that Miguel has been brainwashed and quickly risen the ranks of the local Mafia chapter and now has an ever-growing body count, Eli Moskowitz not getting laid would be a disaster.”

Eli scoffs. “I’m not just doing it to get laid, you know. I need to be in good shape to fight off Miguel’s dad’s goons. Or anyone who gives him trouble.”

Demetri frowns, feeling a sudden prick of dread. “You think Miguel’s dad is a big enough name in the crime world to have goons?”

“Any scary criminal worth half his shit has goons.” Eli scornfully growls the words as he continues to grind out an exercise routine the car is much too small for. “Sensei Kreese did. Heard he had guys pull sketchy shit with some land managers who tried to reclaim the dojo.”

Demetri winces. “Did we say 15% legal activities going on in that hellhole? Let’s bump it down to 10. Anyways.” He sighs. “If we’re going up against an entire army of goons, I don’t think a few car push-ups are going to make much difference. And no, I truly believe it will not get you laid, either.”

“Shut up,” Eli grumbles. Sadly, his push-ups still have not ceased. “It’s not like you’re any better than me. If you had a chance to get it on with some hot Mexican babe, I bet you’d take it.”

“Quit being gross.” Demetri reaches over and swats Eli’s shoulder. “And I mean that in more ways than one. You’re going to get sweat all over my mom’s car, and it already smells questionable enough from the remains of those nachos we spilled yesterday.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I accounted for that.”

The sound of push-ups—bless all the powers that be—finally ceases. Demetri hears a plastic rustling and glances over.

Eli is digging around in his footspace, brow furrowed slightly in concentration. He pulls out what appears to be a small paper cutout of a prickly pear cactus.

Demetri snorts in surprise. “Where did you get that?”

“At the gift shop,” Eli says airily. “When you weren’t looking.”

He tugs a wide string from the back and loops the trinket around the rear-view mirror. A tart, floral scent begins to fill the car.

“An air freshener?” Demetri tsks disapprovingly. “What, you think that gives you a free pass to dump perspiration and gas station food all over my seats? I’m still getting an earful from my mom, desert-flower-smelling car or not.”

“Sorry, I had to buy it.”

Demetri glances over to see Eli simpering in a very self-satisfied and aggravating way. “And why’s that?”

“Cactus Blossom’s the perfect air freshener for you,” Eli says smugly. “Because you’re such a dainty little flower, but you still somehow manage to be a total prick.”

Eli broke into snickers as Demetri’s fist collided with his shoulder. “You’re just mad ‘cause it’s true!” he cackled out.

“I am not a prick! Besides, cactuses are badass. They can go up to two years without hydration because their water storage is just that good.”

“Oh, I’m not denying that.” Demetri glances over to see Eli’s smirk hasn’t faded in the slightest. “It actually makes it all the more impressive that you manage to be this resilient, hardened drought-tolerant little shit, and you’re still somehow a total pansy.”

“My god. Why do I hang out with you?” Demetri shoots another punch into Eli’s shoulder, and his friend only laughs again.

“And you’re stuck with me all the way to Mexico City and back, babeyyyy!” To emphasize the direness of this situation, Eli slams both his hands into the dashboard and resumes his workout.

“I will throw you out of this car, Eli Moskowitz.”

“No, you won’t. You wouldn’t have anyone to tell you which of the snakes are venomous.”

Demetri lets out a long groan as huffs and pants once again fill the car. “Fine. Fine. You can stay. For now.”

***

SMH at Eli’s atrocious lizard identification skills, like that’s CLEARLY an ornate tree lizard??? Idiot

Disclaimer that I actually have no idea if ornate tree lizards are one of the species that do push-ups, but like. Something something Artistic Ecology License + Rule of Comedy has to trump accurate science sometimes

41 notes · View notes

pasteljeon · 5 years ago

Text

core pride (m)

❥ summary: ot7 where you’re rich and lonely so you adopt 7 hybrids. chaos ensues.

❥ genre: hybrid au, wolf!namjoon, tuxedo cat!yoongi, golden retriever!hoseok, tiger!taehyung, calico cat!jimin, bunny!jungkook, honey bear!jin

❥ warnings: brief description of assault/violence, panty sniffing, sub jimin, sub jungkook, ur once again the meat in the jikook sammich, bathtub sex, lotta angst, some fluff

❥ length: 6.6k

❥ notes: tis my first ever attempt at a hybrid au. please be kind :( let me know what you think <3

Winter, Year 20XX

The car beeps quietly, the sound piercing the stillness of the night as you glance up, watching as the powdered flakes flutter silently onto your coat. They sparkle in the muted glow of the streetlamp, soaking your hair and tickling your eyelashes.

Snow crunches beneath your boots, your steps freshly printed upon a new layer as you make your way to the door.

It is pointless to try and enter without perforating the peace. There are no lights on, but that is only because they do not need the artificial shine to recognize your silhouette. The sound of the tires pulling into the driveway, the slow beat of your heart, the steady rising and falling of your chest, the smell of damp clothing, the sweet touch of your shampoo and something indescribably you. They know it is you.

“Noona!” The faint, rapid thumping fades as his strong arms wrap around you, ignoring your muffled protests and burying his face in the crook of your neck. Another pair of arms circle your waist, a shiver whispering through your body at the feel of soft lips against the top of your ear.

“Hello, boys,” you sigh, the weariness weighing heavily on your limbs as you sink into their embrace. “You’re getting yourselves wet …”

“We missed you,” the one behind you disregards your weak attempt at chastising them, tail curling around your arm as he scatters featherlight kisses onto your jaw.

Jungkook says nothing, hands fumbling with the belt of your thick coat. He helps you shrug it off, hanging it on the side to dry.

One hand in each, they lead you to the master bathroom, carefully guiding you in the absence of light. As you pass the living room, you notice another body peeking from the corner.

Slitted eyes linger in the pressing darkness, raking over you once, and disappearing on your next blink.

The candles flicker, the lavender scent soothing and casting a warm yellowed glow to the room and you stop to touch Jungkook’s cheek. He exhales shakily, nuzzling your hand. One ear droops, covering the left side of his face, as if to hide his insecurity.

Jimin walks forward respectfully, twisting the knob to adjust the temperature until it is deemed appropriate and waits, perched on the porcelain, for the tub to fill, before dropping a rose bath bomb into it.

“Oh, bunny,” you murmur, watching sadly as he sniffles. Jungkook scrubs his eyes furiously, almost angry at his uncharacteristic show of emotion.

His body sags, arms clutching your waist tightly as he kisses you back hard, tasting salt and copper.

“Sorry,” he whispers, forehead pressed against yours. He dips his head to suckle the bite on your lower lip, running his tongue over it lovingly.

“Take off your shirt,” you say in response. He obeys, lifting his arms as his shirt comes off, fluttering to the ground. He arches at the feel of your hands running down his front. The deep ridges of his stomach are thrown in sharp relief in the shadowed light. This is what he has been working on, you realize, as your fingers dig into the defined v-lines that dip into his sweats. Jungkook whines at the pressure, body jerking as he staggers onto you. His skin is hot, and a shudder ripples down his spine when your palm meets his pectoral to steady him.

“Get in the tub, baby,” you say. Jungkook moves as if underwater, lethargic in the heat that knots his stomach. He kicks his sweats off, nothing underneath, and sinks into the hot water with a lewd groan.

“Kitten.”

Jimin rises at the sound of your voice, shirt gone in the next instant as he sinks to his knees before you. His gaze is reverent, tender, his touch gentle but firm as he strips you slowly. Covering every inch of bare skin revealed with his lips as he unbuttons your blouse, unclips your bra and unzips your skirt. His nose presses against your panties, inhaling deeply as his tongue flicks out to scent your core. The sight is obscene, so dirty it is enough to make you blush, if you were new to Jimin’s obsession with your taste.

“Smell so good,” he pants, suckling your clit through the soaked fabric. The bulge in his boxers is mouth-watering, and you can already feel the weight of his cock pressed against your tongue. His tail twines your ankle, and you stifle a moan at his feverish licks.

“In the tub, love,” you say softly, tugging at his black locks. Jimin mews and nods, shoving his briefs off before settling in the water next to Jungkook. They watch with hungry gazes as you step out of your panties and sink into the bath leisurely.

They wait, unmoving and hardly breathing, as you close your eyes, body loosening as the heat soaks into your sore muscles.

When the ache lessens, you stand, the water line edging just below your breasts, them greedily consuming the sight of the droplets sliding down your shoulder blades and perked nipples as you make your way to him.

Jungkook watches with half-lidded eyes, expression dazed and thoroughly fucked out already despite the minimal stimulation thus far. Your bunny, so easily tamed and pleased, with a sex drive so intense you could scarcely surface for a moment’s rest.

“Nnng,” he gasps when you flatten your palms to his pecs, raking your nails over his nubs. His chest pushes out to seek your punishing touch despite his furrowed eyebrows and cherry-bitten lips as if unable to decide if the stimulus was welcomed or not.

His cock, still impossibly hard, nudges your entrance from below the water. Jungkook has the audacity to blush when he feels it. “I—I’m—mmf,” his apology is swallowed by your kiss, his eyes rolling back as he keens into your mouth.

An arm snakes around to cup your right breast, thumbing your nipple. “Ahh,” Jimin hisses, biting back a needy whimper when you grip his cock.

He presses himself against you, the heat of him bleeding into your back. “My pain slut,” you coo as you release Jungkook. The bunny hybrid slumps back, lips slick with drool as he grinds desperately against you, gaze unfocused.

Your collective sounds echo delightfully in the wide expanse of the room, water splashing over the edges of the tub as the movement of their hips push waves swelling over the surface. They cannot resist the innate urge to brand evidence of their devotion onto your skin, the marks blooming and scattering like the wind over your thighs, stomach, and neck. Between two hard, hot bodies, they grip you with strong arms and you throw your head back, a faltering gasp caught in your throat as Jungkook ducks his head, dark locks plastered to his forehead, to sear a new constellation on your collarbones. Jimin’s sharp teeth are coaxing another violet flower to bloom across your jugular.

Your legs tremble when you finish, exhaustion seeping deep into your bones. The two seem to exchange silent conversation, and Jimin sets you down gingerly before allowing Jungkook to scoop you up. He steps out of the bath, the water a quarter of its initial level.

You open your mouth to protest, but Jimin kisses the pad of your finger. “It’s okay, noona, I’ve got it.”

Jungkook carefully helps you into the shower, the tiles cool against your burning skin. You lean heavily against him, smiling as he rubs your nose with his affectionately. Reaching for the shampoo, he works up a gentle lather, massaging your scalp soothingly. You sigh blissfully, closing your eyes briefly before stretching for the soap, running it over his abdomen.

The frosted glass opens quietly as Jimin steps inside, having finished draining the water. Jungkook rinses your hair, and you turn to Jimin to drizzle some on his while the younger scrubs at his curls. A faint thumping sound can be heard again when you rub Jungkook’s ears. He flushes hotly at your soft giggle.

By the time you are all finally clean and properly bathed, you are feeling slightly more refreshed and awake.

“Thank you. My good boys,” you whisper, kissing the crown of their heads. You smooth over their fringes, smiling fondly down at them. They are sharing the same room tonight, too tired to fight over who would warm your bed. Jimin purrs sleepily, and Jungkook merely blinks up at you tiredly, doe eyes soft and sweet.

“Sweet dreams.”

“Hey. Sorry I’m so late.” He stirs at the sound of your voice, hushed and melodic, eyes remaining closed even as his ear flicks. The mattress sinks slightly under the added weight.

“They were really worried,” he rumbles, raspy from the drag of sleep. “I know.” You stroke his hair, and he chuffs happily, melting. It has been three months already, and yet you have made little progress with some, while others still suffer from severe anxiety whenever you were away for too long. With your chosen field of study, that adjustment was difficult. Today has likely been one of the worst. You know because you are almost six hours late, and there is a stratum of palpable tension that lines the atmosphere of the house, one only slightly weakened by the physical announcement of your return.

“Tell us next time,” Taehyung murmurs, tail winding around your bicep. “Please. They were almost beside themselves. It took hours to calm them down. I worry about you.”

“I will. I’m sorry.” He accepts your chaste kiss as an apology, fatigued as he is. He is already drifting off, hugging the pillow close to him as you shut the door quietly behind you.

Namjoon is on the balcony when you find him. Like his counterpart, he is almost immune to the cold, with only a shirt and shorts. He is gazing at the stars, or what little of it is visible through the smog of the city. His ear twitches when you enter, but he makes no other indication he is aware of your presence.

You draw your shawl closer to your body, moving to stand a few feet apart, knowing he is still wary of you. It has not been easy, this tentative truce. The two of you are still fostering trust. Such a fragile concept, you think. So gruelling a task to establish, yet so easily destroyed.

“I was wondering if I needed to tell the others to pack again.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you answer, smile crooked. You know he is trying. It is a joke, if you ever heard him utter one.

He finally looks at you. “Okay,” is all he says. His dimples crease, so you know to read between the lines to hear he really means; good.

“Good night, Namjoon.”

“Good night, owner.”

“I’m glad to see you’re okay.” Seokjin offers you a small smile, the one that makes his cheeks plump up like a loaf of bread.

“Thank you.” He lays back down, still watching you cautiously, as if to ready himself in case you struck. Your heart twinges a little, but there is not much you can do tonight. Tomorrow is a new day. You will try all over again tomorrow.

“We really like it here,” the hybrid blurts suddenly. He coughs, embarrassed, as his honeyed skin reddens. You laugh, the ache softening just a bit.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

“Don’t. I don’t care. I was just checking if it was burglar or some shit,” the older of the two grumbles without even turning to you. He is a lump in the dark, curled up in the middle of his bed.

Hoseok simply rolls over.

You take a breath. Tomorrow. You will start all over again tomorrow.

Tonight, you just want to sleep.

“Good morning, noona!”

You smile as the two bound over to kiss either side of your cheek. The mixture of maple syrup, butter and batter must have woken them up, and if they are up, it is likely the other boys are just moments short from trickling in.

“Sleep well?” You place two plates on the table, clearing your laptop and files to the coffee table. One is heaping with pancakes, the other is reasonably stacked.

Jungkook finishes one in a single gulp, and beams. “It’s really good!” You squeeze his hand in gratitude before returning to the stove to finish making the rest just as the boys begin filtering in.

Seokjin, Hoseok and Yoongi take their individual seats at the table patiently with their phones in hand.

“Hi, beautiful.” Taehyung slides an arm around your waist, brushing your locks back as he smiles, kissing you softly.

Namjoon trails in, shuffling toward the fridge as he yawns. “Ah—” He fumbles with the tall glass and you watch in slow motion as it falls and shatters on the tiled flooring of your kitchen.

“Are you okay?” You exclaim, switching off the stove immediately and rushing over. Taehyung stops you from picking up the pieces, grabbing the sweeper as you gesture at the hybrid to step to the side with you.

Namjoon is frowning down at his hand, and upon spotting the cut, Seokjin, miles ahead of you, moves to pull the first aid kit in one of your cupboards instantly. The wound is already spewing a fair amount of blood, and you would have been more concerned had he been a man with solely human DNA.

“This will sting a bit,” you warn, but Namjoon does not even flinch as you gingerly wipe the gash with white alcohol soaked in a cotton ball. You wrap a bandage around it firmly, and tell him not to press on it before it fully heals. He mumbles a thank-you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Yoongi standing.

“Wait, Yoongi!” You call, hiding the hurt that flashes across your face when you see him roll his eyes.

“What?”

“I have something for you. Please, eat, and I’ll show you.”

Yoongi trails after you reluctantly as you lead him into the right wing of the mansion. It is scarcely used, furniture mostly curtained off with a thin layer of dust coating the surface of the covers. When they had first moved in, you explained it was because the place was big enough without the extra space. There was nothing interesting within, just more hallways and empty rooms.

It was not entirely true.

“My father always preferred the right wing. There’s more sun here, better views. I spent most of my childhood here,” you begin. Yoongi’s mouth tightens, but he does not protest. It is the first you have spoken about yourself beyond the niceties of your job and how your fortune came to be. He listens attentively, even as his tail swishes agitatedly.

“After they passed, I couldn’t see the place the same. I couldn’t live there anymore. The memories haunted me, I suppose,” you continue. “But out of it all, there is one thing I regretted closing off. I think you might be able to find better use for it.”

There is no door, just an impressive awning that leads into what appears to be a ballroom. Each step muted on the polished floors. You keep this room clean, he realizes with a jolt.

Yoongi skids to a stop, heart fluttering at his throat when his gaze falls upon the clothed bulk in the middle. He could recognize that form anywhere, and his face twists when you pull back the silk fabric. The impact frees a stray piece of hair, the lock falling over his eyes. He makes no move to push it back, face paling in horror and anguish.

“Yoongi? Yoongi? Hey, are you okay?” He refocuses to find your worried expression staring at him, your hand shaking his shoulder gently.

Immediately, he jerks his arm out of your hold, baring his teeth as he hisses. “Don’t fucking touch me. I don’t want that shit.” He hurls a venomous look your way, the fur on his tail fluffing out in alarm as he bristles.

“I’m … I’m sorry, I thought—” You are taken aback, hand falling limply to your side as you recoil.

“You thought wrong. You’re better off burning that shit,” Yoongi spits. The anger radiates off him, his ears flattening as he turns on his heel and stalks out.

Snapping out of your stunned daze, you hurry behind him, struggling to catch up, but he has always been lithe and quick on his feet. Yoongi storms through the living room toward his room, startling the boys still loitering in the area when he slams the door loudly. Hoseok gets up immediately and races after him.

They all swivel their attention to you when you arrive moments later, and your expression drops when you realize Yoongi has already disappeared.

“Bogum said he used to play the piano,” you say after a beat, voice small as you stare at your feet. You should be used to the rejection by now, but it still hurts, still makes your heart throb, the disappointment and continual failure swells in your chest like a tumor.

“I have the next three weeks off for the holidays. Let me know if there’s somewhere you’d like to go or something you’d like to buy,” you say flatly, avoiding Jungkook and Jimin’s mirrored concern as you trudge toward your own room.

“___—” You only shake your head, lips pursed. Shame crawls up your spine as you roughly wipe away the tears welling in your eyes. “I’m fine, Tae. I’m just tired. Please wake me at five so I can make dinner.”

Taehyung freezes, hand pausing where it is reaching for you, frown deepening as his heart clinches painfully when he scents the tint of salt in the air.

You shut the door quietly behind you right as your knees give out, collapsing into a heap against the wood. It has been months now, and if anything, your relationship with Yoongi is deteriorating. At some point you think he was starting to tolerate your presence. Hoseok still refuses to so much as acknowledge your existence.

You are just so tired. But Taehyung had begged you, the day you decided to take them in, he had begged you not to give up on them. That they all had personal baggage, trauma enough to drown anyone else. He had asked you to be their lifeline, and you are starting to wonder if you are in over your head after all.

“I wish you would give her a chance. She’s serious about us, you know.” Yoongi snorts, pulling the covers further over his head. “Go away, Taehyung.”

“She’s the one. I know it.”

“She’s just going to toss us on the streets when she’s had her fun. That’s all they do, these rich, bored humans,” Yoongi mutters. He picks at a frayed strand of the quilt he has been meticulously unravelling.

He hears the tiger hybrid sigh, and Yoongi stretches out, resting his head on his arm as he closes his eyes. “Just … please try. She’s a good person. All she’s ever done is try to help us.”

Yoongi grunts, rolling over.

You flinch, nearly cutting off your finger, when Yoongi takes a seat next to you after a week of tensed silence. Life had carried on as usual, with the three that seem to genuinely like you, the two that accept you, and the two that abhor you. You wanted to take them skiing at the alps up north, but Hoseok had dug his heels in and practically growled at you when you tried to suggest it. The youngest had looked so crestfallen you pulled him aside and hugged him, promising you’d take him next year instead, with or without his hyung. You would have gone without him this year, except all your friends had left the country for the holidays and you didn’t want to risk asking a stranger.

“You can’t woo me with gifts,” Yoongi coughs. He is looking away, chin propped on a hand.

“I … wasn’t trying to,” you say slowly, returning to your chopping. You pour the vegetables into a bowl, setting it to the side before you move to the stove, drizzling oil onto the pan.

Yoongi turns to watch you, for the first time a little uncertain as to the way you seem to shy away, avoiding his gaze. You seem almost resigned.

“I’m … sorry.” He cringes at the words. They sound too forced, too cold. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just … I haven’t played in a long time now.”

You make a noncommittal sound, and Yoongi’s nose twitches at the delicious smell of kimchi stir fry.

“I’d like to maybe … give it another shot. Or something,” he mumbles, rubbing the inside of his wrist absently. It’s one of his anxious ticks.

Your heart leaps, your movements stuttering in surprise. Are you allowed to be hopeful? You want to be.

So you say, “Okay.” And set a bowl before him with a small smile. His lips quirk, head inclining in gratitude.

It is a bit jarring, the way Yoongi lets you sit next to him on the bench. He does not move away, even as his body stiffens.

He’s … trying. He thinks you don’t notice the way his fingers tremble as they are placed on the keys, the way his tail sways restlessly. His ears are flattened to his head, the mere act of sitting at the piano taking a toll. You don’t need hybrid senses to know he is struggling to keep face.

“Hey. Don’t force yourself,” you say softly, Yoongi’s hand jerking when you hesitate in reaching for him. “I … I’m fine. It’s time, anyway.”

Then, he takes a breath, loosens his shoulders and presses down on the keys.

It gets a little better. Yoongi takes the days as they come. He rediscovers his love for the instrument, the first he’s ever played. His first love, if he has ever experienced such a concept.

With it come the memories of loss and grief. He cries for a long time the night after his first performance with you. It was cathartic, almost. Like he could be reborn from the ashes of his sorrow, like the awning hole inside of him could begin to heal, finally. And in some ways, it does.

He finds your company reasonable. Comforting, if he had the balls to admit it to himself. You rarely speak when he plays, just listening, and sometimes he catches you with glistening eyes that you hastily scrub away. His pieces are often melancholic. They were angry at first, full of rage and pain, until that too, was swept by the currents of the storm. He was always so exhausted after each session.

Now he has begun composing something new. You would stand, thanking him in that sweet voice of yours, sometimes quivering and other times a mere whisper. You never pitied him, he knew, but your sadness told him it was time to let go of the past.

He ignores Hoseok’s disapproving gaze every time, opting to pat the space next to him. “This one is a duet. Play with me.”

You look so bewildered he stifles a chuckle. “But I don’t know how to play.”

“I’ll teach you. Come.” You do, and he urges you to relax as he guides your fingers over the correct keys for the first line.

He hasn’t played for the other boys yet. For whatever reason, this feels sacred to just the two of you. It’s peaceful. He wants to keep it this way, just for a little while longer.

“It’s Christmas in three days. Would you guys like to celebrate?”

They look so excited. Even Hoseok glances up from his laptop to consider your proposal. In the background, Seokjin sneezes loudly. You throw his room a sympathetic frown. The eldest hybrid had fallen sick from the snowball fight from two days ago with the maknaes. You’d left his room after feeding him some congee and checking his temperature.

“Great! I’m going to the market for some supplies then. I’m going to pick up some medicine for Jin as well. We can all go pick gifts once he’s better. Would anyone like to come along?” You ask distractedly as you search for your car keys.

Yoongi growls in exasperation when Taehyung nudges him expectantly. Jungkook and Jimin both beam so eagerly the pianist grits his teeth and drawls with great reluctance, “I’ll go.” Namjoon doesn’t protest, only shrugs as if to say do what you want.

You stop in the middle of buttoning your coat in pure shock. He’s been surprising you a lot lately. “Uh … okay, let’s go.”

Yoongi stares up at the sky, streaks of fuchsia fading rapidly as the evening set in with chilly winds. His ears prick uncomfortably beneath the beanie he sports, unused to the compression. He’s waiting outside the pharmacy, leaning against the brick walls, bags weighing on each arm as people pass, laughing and chatting, without a second glance. Hybrids aren’t gawked at, but those without an owner at their side were held with suspicion and likely a dial to the hybrid protection services (read: hybrid prison). It is illegal to be wandering the streets alone.

Yoongi turns when he hears your familiar footfalls exit the store. Wordlessly, he takes the small brown bag you’re holding. He starts walking toward your next destination before you can object.

“Wait, Yoongi—ah,” you dig for your phone, the ringer making him cringe. He does, moving to the side with an audible sigh. You give him an apologetic look before answering it.

“Oh—hi, Bogum! Yes—yes. Ah, about that—I have a draft written up and I was wondering if you could take a look at it sometime soon. Mmm, I know, but it’s important it’s done as quickly as possible, I need it for when I’m gone,” you’re facing the other way, talking animatedly with the cell resting against your ear as you dig for a pen in your purse. His breath stutters, stomach dropping instantly.

“What is he talking about? What do you mean, when you’re gone?” He says sharply, and you glance up to see him right in front of you, eyes narrowed and teeth bared.

“What?” You ask, putting a hand over the receiver. Yoongi sneers. “I always knew it was too good to be true. I’m done.” He drops the various bags onto the snow, and you shrink back in confusion and fear when he leans in to whisper, “Go fuck yourself. I’ll make sure you never see any of us ever again.”

“Don’t bother coming back. We’ll be long gone by then,” Yoongi tosses over his shoulder as he leaves. He relishes in the way your expression contorts in horror. He’s much, much faster than you, and he knows this market by heart. It’s not far from your house and he can easily beat you by foot.

“Yoongi!” You cry out, but you know it’s useless. Tears blur your vision as you blubber a quiet I have to go, I’ll call you later to Bogum who calls your name worriedly on the other line before pocketing your phone. You kneel, trying to gather all the bags at once. One is crushed at the bottom and you open it gingerly to find a smashed fruit cake oozing out of its packaging. You can still make out a crooked Merry Christmas Eve! scrawled lopsidedly at the edges.

You won’t make it in time. Muffling a sob, you sink to the ground, ignoring the way the snow seeps into your leggings. You really are pathetic.

“Please! Stop!” You pause, head cocking as you shut your trunk. Were you officially going crazy? Peachy, you scoff inwardly. You wouldn’t be surprised.

“P-please, let me go!” A scream tears across the parking lot. You glance around wildly, and no, you are not crazy because people duck their heads at the sound, whispering to one another as they scurry toward their vehicles. Yoongi is likely already home, and you know he’s smart, careful and capable of caring for himself.

So you grab your phone and a can of pepper spray and head toward the sound. You can’t be like them. You have to be human.

And you think your knees will give out, the pure heartbreak you feel when you round the corner of the street to find a young snake hybrid curled in a fetal position on the ground, three much older, scrawny men circling him, jeering and kicking.

He can easily overpower them, you realize, but he doesn’t want to. If he does, it’s only another reason for HPS to lock him away for good. He would rather suffer this moment than be chained forever. It’s enough to make your lip curl in distaste, fury building at the sheer injustice.

“Hey! Leave him alone,” you shout, marching up to them. The men stop, one squinting at you briefly before bursting into loud guffaws.

“You? What is a little lady like you going to do?” He crows. The last word is caught in his throat as you punch him in the stomach.

“I said, back off!” The other two look at each other, flabbergasted, and the man screams at them to do something as he’s on the floor, clutching his belly in pain. They charge at you, but you only roll your eyes at the added layer of sexism on the list of hell ridden crimes they are already guilty for. You’ve taken many, many lessons as a child, including mixed martial arts.

It can’t even be called a fight. They’re rolled onto the curb in the next heartbeat. You kneel next to the wounded hybrid, who tries to get up. He wobbles, and you coax him into leaning into you for support.

“Thank you, miss,” he croaks. “You didn’t have to, but thank you.” You wipe the blood on his lower lip gingerly. “Where’s your owner?”

“He went to get the car,” he answers softly. You give him a knowing look. He glances away guiltily.

“Yuto? Yuto!” Distinctly, the two of you turn at the sound of a new voice. Headlights sear your eyes for just a moment before someone hurtles out of the driver’s seat. “Holy shit, what happened?” The man cries, clutching at the injured hybrid. Yuto (?) winces, allowing the newcomer to sling an arm over his shoulder.

“I got jumped,” he whispers. “She saved me.” The man looks halfway into tears, reaching over to take your hand. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here.”

You accept his gratitude with an awkward smile, patting his hand gently. “You shouldn’t leave him alone on the streets, especially at night.”

“It’s not his fault,” Yuto protests immediately. “I insisted.”

His owner shakes his head furiously. “She’s right. That was stupid of me.” He turns to you again, eyes shining. “Thank you so much. Truly.”

“Not at … all.” Huh? The world suddenly tilts, and you look down at your hands. There’s something dark dripping on your jacket, staining the fabric and you swipe at it lethargically, bringing it close. Oh. It’s blood.

The pain sharpens, and you gasp aloud at the fire spreading through your veins. Your knees do give out this time, and you can finally make out the sounds of a hiss, a piercing scream and someone calling for you before your body drops to the ground with a muted thud.

The last thing you are thinking is how you’d inevitably failed them after all.

Yoongi shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, the next gust nearly pushing his beanie off his head altogether, and he finds himself wondering if you were cold.

He violently shakes the thought away before opening the door. He sits down to unlace his boots, when Namjoon comes barrelling toward him. The other boys follow in suit; even Seokjin is padding around swaddled in a blanket. He scents the rising panic and anxiety in the house and he straightens instantly, alert.

“Yoongi, where the hell have you been?” Their leader bursts out. Yoongi has never seen the wolf hybrid so frazzled before.

“At the market?” He doesn’t know what kind of answer Namjoon was expecting, but it certainly was not the truth because his face twists in anger.

“Listen, Joon, she’s planning to leave us—” Yoongi goes on, and Jimin steps forward to slap him. The crack of the impact has his head jerking to the side, the sting setting in quickly.

“What. The. Fuck.” He says lowly.

“No. Where the fuck were you?” The typically soft-spoken and sweet hybrid screams. Yoongi stares in shock, flinching at the sound. Hybrid senses were heightened enough to hear the tiniest whispers, and his ears ring at the blow.

“If you mean ___, she’s probably on her way back,” Yoongi answers slowly. “That’s why I left, I found out that—”

“She’s in the hospital, Yoongi.” It’s Taehyung. His voice is hoarse, and he’s standing in a shadowed corner. His tail drags the ground as he moves, bangs hiding his expression.

“What?” The words taste like ash.

“She was stabbed while helping another hybrid,” Jimin seethes. He clutches his wrist, hand throbbing but he can barely feel it. Only registers the adrenaline and fear rushing through him.

“We’re waiting for Luna to come pick us up. She’s ___’s friend.” Jungkook sounds so small, so fragile when he speaks.

Yoongi’s legs buckle and he collapses, unblinking as he gawks at the floor. What did he do?

“There you are. Take it easy, now.” You groan, eyeballs burning as you pry them open with difficulty. It takes great effort to move your arms, and you stop when you feel a sharp tugging into your inner elbow.

“Fucking IVs,” you croak, and Luna’s smile focuses as she leans down to steady you. “How long was I out for?”

“A few days. It’s Christmas. A miracle, some believers might say.” She presses one of the buttons at the side of your bed, and a nurse appears shortly after.

“Your vitals are good. Doctor will be in momentarily,” the worker says, checking the equipment and making a few markings to your clipboard.

“You scared the shit out of them. You scared the shit out of me,” Luna informs you. Taking a glance around, your room is crowded with vases upon vases of your favourite flowers and several handmade art pieces you know are from Jungkook and Taehyung.

You lean back with a sigh. Your abdomen aches, and you know the scar this time isn’t going to fade.

The doctor walks in before you can reply. He gives you a full diagnosis of your condition and declares visits can start as early as tomorrow morning. Luna leaves with him, kissing your cheek and warning you not to overextend. You can only nod, sinking back into your pillow.

When you open your eyes again, the clock at the side notifies you it is just past ten.

And sitting by your side is Yoongi, face buried in his hands.

“Oh, Yoongi,” you breathe. He’s visibly shaking, ears flat and tail unmoving.

“I should’ve never left you alone. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry,” he rasps. He chokes on the words, rubbing his eyes furiously. He doesn’t have the right to cry. He pushes the chair away and gets on his knees, ignoring the strangled sound that escapes your throat. His forehead touches the ground and he doesn’t care that the floor is probably gross and full of viruses and bleach and disinfectant and a million other things. “I’m—so—sorry.”

“Yoongi,” your voice breaks.

“No, no,” he looks up, blinking away the tears as he fixes his gaze on you. “Don’t—don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

“Come here, silly kitty,” you whisper. His lower lip trembles and he lets out a sob. It’s loud and ugly and he scrambles to climb onto the bed, carefully weaving through the various cords and he curls up next to your injured side and he stuffs his face in your shoulder and he cries and cries and cries.

He cries until he’s empty and he falls asleep like that, eyes swollen and red, snot running down your hospital sheet, tail twined over your wrist, engulfed in your warmth.

“My original owner was an old man.” You can barely make out the words, so soft and unsure. He’s speaking into his pudding. Lunch came and went, and you roused him gently, knowing he likely hadn’t properly eaten since the incident.

Hospital food is hardly luxury but it’s food and the poor hybrid had already begun to look malnourished, complexion pale and cheeks sunken in. It was the stress and guilt that ate away at his ability to function.

“I was abandoned on the highway. The runt of the litter, I suppose. I didn’t come from one of those fancy breeding places. I was a bastard child. He found me, digging in his trash.” You stroke his hair, and he finishes the pudding in one bite, setting it down before snuggling back into you.

“He took me in. He was kind, and taught me how to play the piano. He was a retired pianist, and his wife had died the year prior. His son had been in the military. Died the first year out. He taught me to love the piano, to love music. Gave me a light and purpose when I had none. He gave me to the shelter when he passed. I had a lot of pent up anger. I ran away a lot. Didn’t know how to deal with the grief, I guess. He was all I knew. So I started picking fights to work through it, and Bogum would always be the one to drag me back to the shelter. Nursed me back to health every time. He never punished me, and I think the disappointment was what really broke me. I was ready to die. I picked a fight I knew I would never recover from. Hoseok was the one that saved me then.” Yoongi’s wet lashes tickle your jaw.

“Hoseok was also a different man then. He smiled a lot, laughed a lot. He was like sunshine personified. Maybe that’s why I was so drawn to him. He taught me to control my anger. Through him, I met the rest. Jimin taught me to understand it. Namjoon taught me to release it through alternative channels. Like composing. I wrote a lot of songs there. Things were good for a while. Then they came.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Who—”

“Sorry, but visiting hours are ending.” Yoongi lifts his head to find your nurse smiling at the two of you apologetically. She checks your vitals once more before exiting to give you privacy.

Yoongi untangles himself from you reluctantly, nuzzling your cheek.

“Come back tomorrow, mmkay?” You squeeze his hand.

He nods, unable to meet your gaze even as his own cheeks flush lightly.

“Promise?”

Yoongi shakily takes your hand and kisses your ring finger. This time he does look at you, eyes ringed with gold as he says, “Promise.”

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leejungchans · 3 years ago

Text

(i think you’re) beary cute — choi soobin

word count | 1.2k

pairing | choi soobin (txt) x gender neutral reader

warning(s) | none!!

genre | fluff, humour, high-school au

note | yeonjun, soobin and reader are in the same year here!!

— a belated graduation present for @fallinchan 🥺 i’m so proud of you ash and i hope you like this!! ilysm 💕💕

High school, a bittersweet place indeed.

It has seen some of the worst times of your life—detentions, friendship drama, heartbreaks, the nonstop studying and grinding for college entrance exams; perhaps not things you’ll look back upon fondly, but things that were a part of this chapter of your life regardless.

But without high school, you would not have met your tightly-knit group of friends, your anchor in choppy waves, that brought you so much comfort and happiness these past years however tumultuous they may have been.

It’s all in the little things; like Beomgyu teaching you how to skateboard, study dates with Yeonjun and Kai that involved more goofing off than actual studying, checking out dozens of books at the library with Taehyun and spending hours reading them in comfortable silence, napping in History with Soobin when the two of you sat at the far back…

You wouldn’t trade all these memories for the world.

This brings you to today—graduation. You thought you couldn’t wait any longer for this day to arrive, at least, you certainly thought so during your most miserable moments, longing to leave high school forever and never looking back.

But seeing the teary eyes of your teachers and your fellow classmates in their graduation gowns and caps made you realise that this really is it; that despite the downs, this place really isn’t all that bad.

“I’m gonna miss seeing you around,” Kai tells you a little sadly as everyone moves outside after the ceremony for photos.

“You’re acting like I’m moving across the country when my college’s just half an hour away from here,” you joke while ruffling his hair, “we’ll see each other on weekends! Plus, it’s just two more years!”

“Two more years,” he grumbles, “I wish I was graduating with you guys today.”

“Trust me, you won’t be thinking that by the time you graduate.”

Beomgyu snorts. “Don’t think we didn’t notice how you almost cried when you went up to get your diploma. I have the photos to back it up.”

Of course he does. Probably zoomed all the way into your face so he can make a meme out of it too.

“Shouldn’t you be a little nicer to me on my special day?” Your tone is light and playful because you know your friends love you, even if they deny it vehemently or show it in… interesting ways.

“Wait, where’s Soobin?” Yeonjun asks, his head whipping around in search of your friend. “I swear I just saw him! Does he not want to take photos with us?”

“How do we lose a six-foot man?” you wonder aloud, scanning through the crowd of students, teachers and parents but to no avail. Soobin’s nowhere to be found on his own graduation day, even though you literally saw him just minutes ago when you all were in the auditorium for the ceremony.

Taehyun turns back to your group of five with a shrug after a little looking. “He’ll show up sooner or later,” he reasons, “probably just went to the washroom or somethi—”

“—woah, check it out,” Kai interrupts, eyes focused on something behind you, “did the school splurge on hiring a mascot or something? I didn’t know they did that.”

The remaining four of you follow his gaze, spotting someone dressed in a full bear costume approaching your group as the other students and parents let out gasps and hushed murmurs. Whoever’s dressed in the costume is also holding a bouquet of sunflowers as they waddle across the playground towards… you?

As though he’s read your mind, Yeonjun turns back to your group confusedly. “Is it just me… or does it look like it’s heading towards us?”

“Is this some Five Nights at Freddy’s kinda thing? Should we run?”

You smack at Beomgyu’s arm lightly. “No! That’s just plain mean, especially if the school hired them to surprise us.”

The bear comes to a stop in front of you as it holds out the flowers, and you can only stare at it in shock while your friends watch from the side, equally as confused and perhaps a little (read: very) amused as well. The bear’s head tilts to the side when you don’t react, as though hinting for you to take the flowers.

“O-oh, are these for me?”

You try your best to ignore Beomgyu and Kai’s stifled giggles when it nods, and awkwardly accept the bouquet with a mumbled ‘thank you’.

“Um… can I also ask why the school is giving me this?”

Despite the huge costume, you manage to hear a faint sigh coming from whoever’s inside. Two furry paws reach up to pull off the bear head, and your jaw drops when it reveals none other than Choi Soobin, still wearing his graduation gown and all that.

“Soobin?” you screech. “Huh? What—why—what are you doing in there?”

He smiles sheepishly, fixing his messy and slightly sweaty hair. “Surprise?”

“Yo, where’d you get this?” Yeonjun asks as he pets the white fur on his costume, “and where is my bouquet? Why does Y/N get one and I don’t?”

“How much did it cost to rent this thing?”

“Why didn’t you choose another animal?”

“Dude, how are you not sweating buckets in this?”

“Can we not do this now?” Soobin groans, cheeks flushed a rosy pink. Whether it’s from the stuffiness of the costume or shyness, you can’t tell, but it’s safe to say that it’s probably both from the way his get-up garners curious looks from everyone who walks by, some even doing double-takes at the peculiar scene in front of them.

You don’t blame them, it’s not every day when you see a blue-haired boy dressed in a full bear costume.

He turns back to you, the blush on his face spreading up to his ears as he explains, “I thought this might cheer you up… it can be sad saying goodbye to everyone at this place, so I planned this to hopefully make this day unforgettable for you in a good way…”

Soobin’s voice trails off hesitantly when he notices the unshed tears gathering in your eyes. “Please don’t cry,” he pleads softly, not knowing if he should hug you while in the costume in fear it’d only make you cry more. It’s then when he also realises that you’re alone, your four friends having conveniently disappeared sometime during his explanation. “I didn’t mean for this to make you even sadder, I’m sorry…”

“You idiot! These are happy tears!” you wail, ducking your head to hide the droplets running down your cheeks from him as you desperately search your pockets for tissues, only to give up and wipe them away with the sleeves of your gown instead. “This is—sniff—one of the nicest—sniff—things anyone’s done for me. I’m gonna—sniff—miss you so much!”

“We got accepted into the same college, silly,” Soobin says with a fond smile, watching as you take multiple deep breaths to calm yourself. “Um… that means you like this surprise… right?”

“Of course I do!” you reassure enthusiastically while still dabbing away at the remaining moisture on your cheeks. “It’s… bear-y cute.” You pause to giggle at your own joke even though you’re still very much overwhelmed with emotions. “D’you get it? Because you’re dressed as a bear! Get it?”

“Yeah, I get it. What a gem of comedy you’ve got there.”

“Aw, looks like you’ll have to keep… bearing with me.”

Soobin groans. “Your puns are awful, but—”

“—but you still like me bear-y much?” you tease.

“Yes, Y/N. I still like you bear-y much.”

a/n: aaaa i hope you like this ash 🥺❤️ gotta fuel the soobrot (steverot?) some way hehe 😼 also hi ladies muah!!!! 🐬 thank you for reading and i hope you guys like it :3

— if you’re graduating this year and you’re reading this: a big big congratulations and i’m proud of you!! 💕

#ficscafe #sol.writings #txt x reader #soobin x reader #choi soobin x reader #txt fluff #soobin fluff #txt imagines #soobin imagines #txt scenarios #txt drabbles #soobin drabbles #txt soobin imagines #txt soobin drabbles #txt soobin scenarios

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hey-there-love · 4 years ago

Text

Apologize

Summary: Friday nights don’t have to be lame when Katsuki Bakugo is involved.

Content Warnings: Aged up, NSFW, 18+, Fem oral receiving, penetration, slight anal play, slight dacryphilia, slight spit play, choking, AU, Adult Language, Enter at your own risk.

WC: 3.1K

It was a boring Friday night alone. You were lost in one of your many textbooks studying for a big test on Monday when your phone notified that you had a snapchat. Assuming it was from your roommate Mina, who should have been busy with work, you grabbed your phone.

It was from Katsuki Bakugo. You rolled your eyes and threw your phone onto the pillow. Bakugo was your on and off again friend with benefits. On and off meaning you saw him when it was convenient to Bakugo and Bakugo only. Sadly, you came back each time because you genuinely liked the guy...

Plus it was the best sex of your life.

It was an unfortunate situation to say the least. In the moment when you were with him you were satisfied, but as you got back home you craved more. You were both alike in many ways. Rough around the edges, but soft once you opened up. Goal oriented, focused on your schooling and your futures. A fucked up sense of humor that matched toe to toe. You both came to a mutual agreement that you were meant to be friends early on, but lately you longed for more.

The thing about your situationship with Bakugo was on the rocks since he canceled on you a few nights ago to go out with his friends. Granted you didn’t owe each other anything, but canceling last minute really pissed you off.

After a few minutes of pondering about the Snapchat, you went against your better judgement and opened it.

Bakugo: What are you doing?

You sucked your teeth and debated on messaging him back. Tentatively you set your phone down, deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine and leaving him on read. You stuck your nose back in your textbook. About 10 minutes of note taking had passed and your phone had went off again. You glared and looked at the message.

Bakugo: Don’t ignore me shitty woman.

Your body fluttered. The part of your body that did was undetermined though. You scraped your brain of something wity to say back.

Y/N: What do you need? You’re interrupting my hot date.

He responded instantly, almost as if he was awaiting your response.

Bakugo: An actual date or your hand because you know I’m better than both.

You swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of your throat. He wasn’t exactly wrong. Bakugo was far more experienced in the handiwork than you were, but that’s exactly what a vibrator was for. You snapped a picture of the textbook in your lap and captioned it.

Y/N: His name is Pearson’s Guide to Anatomy and we’re madly in love.

At this point you gave up on studying because you were clearly distracted and laid down. Your message sat on delivered for a few minutes before he finally opened it. This time it was a picture. You looked at instantly. He snapped a picture of his roommate Kirishima grinning in front of the stove with a spatula in his hand.

Bakugo: Come eat and before you say no it wasn’t a question.

You fought the battle inside your brain. You were still pretty upset with him, but you hadn’t ate since breakfast so you were hungry. Plus...sex of course. You opted to send him a short message.

Y/N : Gimme 30 minutes asshole.

Bakugo replied with the thumbs up emoji and sent you into action. You had just taken a shower and thankfully something told you to shave your legs. You brushed your teeth quickly and brushed your hair back into a tight pony tail. Everything you needed was already in your purse. A toothbrush, a pair of underwear, deodorant, a few condoms, a charger, and body spray. ( AN: I always recommend keeping a mini spendanight bag in your purse just in case :) )

You spent a few minutes deciding what to wear before putting on a black lace bra and matching underwear. You opted for a pair of black sweats and long sleeve shirt. It was a little chilly out so you threw on a hoodie. Deciding you were finally ready you sent a message to Mina, alerting her of your absence.

Mina: Wear protection! ;) I get off at 2 if you need a ride home.

You laughed at your best friend’s response and began the short walk to Bakugo’s. There was a little bit of day light left so it was easy to navigate through his neighborhood.

Pretty soon you were standing in front of his building. You pressed the buzzer. Kirishima’s sing song voice sounded through the speaker. “Whooooo is it?” Clearly he knew it was you.

“Kiri let me in! I’m freaking freezing.” You whinned.

“That’s not the passworddddd.” He chided, laughing.

“Let her in dumbass.” You heard Bakugo growling in the background.

“Hey!” Kirishima cried and the door buzzed. You rode the elevator up to the third floor. You rasped on the front door. It was opened abruptly by Kirishima who rubbed the back of his head cautiously.

“Let me guess, he smacked you didn’t he?” You pondered and gave him a side hug.

“Yeah and it wasn’t very manly of him either.” He sighed and hugged you back.

“Keep it up and I’ll do it again, Shitty Hair.” Bakugo called from the kitchen. You shook your head and ruffled his hair.

Kirishima grinned and whispered in your ear, “I’m glad your here, he’s been in a mood all day.” You blushed majorly and looked down as he trailed off into the kitchen. It wasn’t a secret to your friend group what you and Bakugo were. Kirishima and Mina had walked in on you two multiple times, but it still wasn’t embarrassing.

You removed your shoes and padded into the kitchen. The aroma of deliciousness hit your nose instantly. Your stomach grumbled. “See I knew you were hungry.” Bakugo said finishing up the stir fry.

Your wrapped your arms around his waist tightly and laid your head on his back. “Shut up and feed me.” You mumbled.

“You want dinner or desert first?” He replied and rubbed your arm as he mixed up the food in the pan.

“Who said you were getting desert?”

“Please guys! Not infront of the stir fry! It’s innocent!” Kirishima groaned and shoved you two out of the way deciding it was done.

You both shot him a glare as he happily loaded his plate up with food. Bakugo fixed your plate and handed it to you. The three of you sat down on the couch in front of the tv. Kirishima put on a series he just started. You began to chatter about the show in between bites. Pretty soon you were done eating and he gave you a synopsis. Bakugo took your plates to the kitchen.

“Hold on wait, so wait. If he’s an international criminal why did he just turn himself in like that to help the agent?” You questioned, clearly enthralled by the show.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out! There’s literally 7 seasons of this! I need answers.” Kirishima agreed.

“Bro what if that’s his like secretly his daughter? Like it makes sense why he’s so connected to her and protects her.” You said excitedly, slapping his leg.

“Dude. That actually makes hella sense.” He replied. Bakugo quietly sat down next to you and began to stroke your lower back, signaling it was time to retreat to his bedroom. You looked up at him with pleading eyes to finish the episode. He rolled his eyes and moved his hand to the back of the couch.

Pretty soon the credits rolled at the end of the episode. “I’m going to bed.” Bakugo announced and stood up.

“Ugh, lame.” Kirishima huffed. Bakugo walked into his bedroom without a word, leaving you two on the couch. You both looked at each other and shrugged.

“I’m definitely going to start watching whenever I get home. Text me about it tomorrow yeah?” You asked making your way to the room.

“For sure!” He called after you as you shut the door. You set your bag down next to the bed and sat down to check your phone. You heard the sink running and then the bathroom door opened revealing a shirtless Bakugo. Grey sweatpants hung off of his hips.

You licked your lips slightly as he turned off the lights and slinked to the bed. A candle faintly flicked in the corner, giving a slight orange glow to the room. “Damn that was like pulling teeth, Y/N” he said and laid down next to you.

“What? You weren’t interested in the show? It was good.” You replied, feeling your pulse quicken as he looked up at you through his lashes.

“I’ve been interested in something else for the past hour.” Bakugo sighed and wrapped his strong arm around your waist, pulling you towards him.

“And what would that be exactly?” You questioned and leaned back into the pillows. He quickly moved ontop of you and hovered over your lips.

“Getting inbetween your thighs.” He whispered. You sucked in a breath before his lips landed on yours. It was slow at first. Sweet closed mouth kisses turned into a passionate tongues mingling together. One of your hands began to run its way through his hair while the other traced the expanse of his bare back.

He groaned into your mouth and you pulled his hair lightly. His hand caressed up your neck until it grabbed your jaw holding you in place. Bakugo began to slowly grind against your sweet spot. Causing you to grow wetter than you already were. His freehand began to explore your body, running along your stomach and up to your bra.

Moans escaped as he began to stroke your nipple through the fabric. He lifted you up from the bed and removed your hoodie and shirt in a swift motion, throwing it somewhere off the bed. You weren’t too concerned at the moment of the location. The hand that gripped your jaw made its way down to your neck as he delicately squeezed the side of your throat.

He kissed down your neck until he made it to the area were your breast pooled ontop of your bra. He began to suck on the revealed flesh before pulling it down to free them. “You’ve got such nice tits, babygirl.” Bakugo growled and took a nipple into his mouth.

You mewled at the praise. He began to nip and suck at it, making sure to tweak and pinch the other in the same fashion. You bucked your hips to meet his, adding more friction to the equation. A few moments passed before he began trail down to the hem of your sweatpants.

Bakugo worked diligently sliding them down your legs before laying in between your thighs. You locked eyes as he started to speak, completely in a trance. “Allow me to formally apologize for canceling on you before.” You nodded slowly. He smiled devilishly and kissed your inner thighs.

The teasing was unreal. It made you so hot that you knew your panties were soaked. He planted a light kiss to your clothed clit. Using his index finger he stroked your pussy vertically with the tip. “You smell so good, Y/N. I can’t wait to taste you.” Bakugo growled. He pulled your panties to the side and slipped the finger in. You instantly clenched around him as he began to pump the tip teasingly.

You were a mess. The strokes were torchous, your mind swirled. “Look at you, grabbing my fucking finger and it’s barely even there.” You loved how vocal he was. He slowly pulled his digit out before entering it again, this time deeper inside you. Your juices cascaded down his hand.

“Shit.” Bakugo cursed and tore your underwear off. You were much too distracted to even worry about your thong being shredded. He added a second finger into the mix. He curled them up inside you, finding the spongy spot that sent you crazy.

Removing his fingers he held them up to the light, entranced by the stringy substance that coated them. “Open your mouth.” He demanded. You did as you were told, no questions asked. Bakugo inserted the two into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around and inbetween then, collecting your slick. He groaned as you sucked and bit down.

His mouth attacked your clit promptly. It was a relief you craved. There was no kitten licks about it. His tongue did figure 8’s around your cunt. You were a moaning mess, saying his name without a care in the world that Kirishima could hear you. Then he did something foreign that you never experienced before. His tongue trailed down your pussy until it found your tight, puckered hole.

You weren’t quite sure what was going on, but in the moment it didn’t matter. Bakugo had your trust completely and he knew it. He didn’t go too far though, just kissing and licking it slightly before focusing his attention back on your throbbing pussy. He plunged the two fingers into your hole again, but this time he fucked it.

The lewd sounds that came from your cunt were enough to make you blush. His free hand flew up to your pelvis and began to gently press down causing pressure. “You hear how loud your cunt is babygirl? You sound like your enjoying it.” Bakugo called. He bit down harshly on your thigh.

“Please Bakugo, please fuck me.” You begged, wrapping your leg around his shoulder.

“That’s not what you should call me Y/N. What’s my name?” He slowed down his pumps, but kept the pressure, making the pleasure the same level of intensity as before.

“Katsuki please!” You cried out. He grinned as you.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but I’m not done apologizing yet.” You threw your head back against the pillows as his mouth attacked you once more. His pace began to speed up again. You felt his fingers scissoring inside of you. Your release barreled towards you.

“I’m about to cum.” You whimpered, pushing his head closer to your cunt. His fingers pumped faster than before, hitting your g-spot every time. Your orgasm washed over you promptly as you moaned his name. Your once rigid body melted against the bed. You felt Bakugo climb up your body.

He grabbed your face and made you open your mouth. He spit the saliva and cum mixed fluid into your mouth before running his hand over your breasts again. You were putty and under his mercy.

“Still want me to fuck your brains out?” Bakugo questioned as he stroked himself through his sweats.

“Please.” You breathed out. He chuckled and stood up, removing his pants. His dick sprang free and slapped against his stomach. Precum pooled around the tip. He pulled a condom out of the drawer on the bed side table.

He noticed you staring at him, “See something you like?” Bakugo questioned as he rolled the condom onto his cock. You nodded sheepishly and spread your legs. He shook his head and then nestled inbetween your legs again as he kissed your lips sweetly. He began to rub the tip against your sensitivity, making you jump at the sensation.

“I’ll go slow this time, I promise.” Bakugo kissed your forehead and gently pressed into you, giving you inch by inch. You both hissed until he sank himself fully in your heat. “Shit, you’re always so tight for me baby.” He moaned rested his head on yours.

He began to thrust slowly allowing you to adjust to the pain. Bakugo was not small in the slightest, so you were grateful at the pace he set. He buried his head into your shoulder as profanities escaped his lips. “Fuck, Katsuki. You fill me up so good.” You moaned, scratching his back lightly.

This encouraged him to increase his speed, grinding his hips into yours until he filled you to the hilt. “You are mine. You’ll always fucking be mine Y/N.” He growled, nipping at your collarbone. The declaration made your heart soar, but it also gave you a sinking feeling in the back of your mind.

Bakugo threw your legs over his shoulders as he drilled deep into you. You felt tears prick in your eyes at the sensation as another orgasm began to build. He grasped your face, “Look me in the eyes when you cum because I know you’re close.” You nodded quickly. Tears flowed freely as your mouth hung open. The next orgasm hit you like a brick wall. You were pretty sure you screamed his name that time, but you couldn’t be too sure.

Once your body calmed down Bakugo pulled out, flipped you over onto your stomach and pulled your ass into the air. He slammed back into you. You attempted to jerk forward, but he gripped your hips tight. A loud smack landing against your ass for trying to run away.

You felt his warm saliva drip down to your puckered hole before he used his thumb to swirl it around. Unintentionally, you jerked again. He paused his actions. “You trust me right?” Bakugo panted and rubbed your cheek delicately.

“Yes, of course.” You whinned at the loss of rhythm. Another slap landed on you cheek.

“Okay, run away again,” he stated, “I’m fucking your ass.” That caused you to remain absolutely still. Granted after the experience before you didn’t mind the thought of it, but you we’re too spent for that tonight and you knew Katsuki Bakugo would make good on his promise. He began fucking you again, this time not as rough. He repeated his actions from earlier and teased your ass again before gently pressing his thumb in your tight rear.

You were grateful that you could shove your head into the pillow because the noises that came from you would have woken up the whole building. You mentally reminded yourself to apologize to Kirishima tomorrow. “Shit, I’m really fucking close babygirl.”

“Please Katsuki, please come inside of me.” You moaned, egging him on. That was all it took. His once steady, prominent strokes turned into sloppy thrusts as he filled the condom. Once he steadied, he removed himself as you collapsed. Bakugo rolled the condom off and threw it into the trash before falling in next to you.

You were both panting messes. Once you caught your breath you glanced over at him. “Apology accepted.”

“Shut up, shitty woman.” Bakugo laughed and kissed you cheek.

#bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader

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xxreader-writerxx · 3 years ago

Text

Study Buddy (Part 3)

3.4k Word Count

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Drinking, Dom/Sub relationship, humiliation kink, sir kink, degradation, bondage, sense deprivation, unprotected sex (there's fetus deletus in this world not ours so USE A CONDOM AND STAY SAFE YOU RABBITS unless like- there's a plan and stuff-) Blindfold, Gagging, use of a vibrator, choking, overstimulation,

Y/N= Your Name L/N= Your Last Name Y/H= Your House

I walk into the Gryffindor Common Room passing Fred and George and feel a light tap on my bum. I jump a little and Fred winks at me covertly. I walk over to the couches blushing. Me and Fred have been dating for about 5 months secretly. We have a bet going to see who finds out first, my friends or his. He strongly believes he will win but I’m firm in that George’s smart enough to solve the case. I sit next to Hermione drinking the butterbeer next to me and stop seeing her looking at me accusingly. “What?” I ask and she shrugs. “Just Fred slapping your ass...” She mutters and I cough surprised at her accusation. “W-what?!” I ask and she chuckles. “You two...” She mutters going back to her book.

George and Fred run back in grabbing me, Lee, Hermione, and a few others dragging us to their dorm. “Yes?” Hermione finally asks and they hold up firewhiskey chanting happily with the other boys. Me and Hermione just laugh shaking our heads. “What y/n? Scared?” Fred asks and I chuckle. “No. I just don’t think anyone in here can handle their alcohol.” I explain and they scoff.

***

A few hours and a few drinks later I am proven correct by a bunch of drunk teenagers presented in front of me, and myself only a little tipsy. Fred and George are giggling with Lee. Hermione and Harry are cuddling under a blanket. And I’m just watching this mess giggling. Fred moves over to me and I laugh as he lays his head on my thigh humming lightly. “Lets- play truth or- dare.” He says hiccupping through his sentence. “Yeah!” George slurs out and I laugh shaking my head.

A few rounds go by and Fred is still playing with my hands goofily. I keep pulling my hands from his chuckling and he finally whines putting his head in my stomach. “Why won’t you hold my hand….” He whines in my stomach and I look up to see the group isn’t paying attention. I pull him up and kiss his temple. “Darling they don’t know we’re dating...” I hum into his ear and he still whines reaching for my hand. I chuckle, finally giving in hiding our hands behind him. “Ok Fred.” George says, catching our attention. “You can either take a sip of the Veritaserum and confess your feelings about y/n… Or… Y/n has to sit on your lap for the rest of the game.” He tells him and my eyes widen. He gets up to grab the bottle but I swing my legs around him facing away from the group. “Well we know what y/n wanted...” George scoffs and I hold up a middle finger behind me making the group laugh. Fred smiles nuzzling his head against my neck as I do the same. “I love you...” He whispers in my ear and I perk up looking at him. He widens his eyes and starts stuttering. “I love you too...” I whisper in his ear and I can feel him smile against my neck.

An hour later everyone's asleep but me and Fred. He’s whispering cute things in my ear as I giggle lightly and he nips at my neck making more giggles spring from my mouth. “You’re so pretty… You should always have your hair like this.” He whispers quietly and I giggle playing with his shirt. “It is always like this.” I reply and he smiles goofily. “Even better.” He mumbles. “God you're hot… Are you single?” He says and I laugh shaking my head. “Freddie… I’m your girlfriend...” I tell him and he smiles silently celebrating. I kiss him to stop his excited noises from waking everyone up and he immediately melts into my kiss closing his eyes softly. I move to his neck as he lightly moans pressing his lips against my skin to muffle it. I nip the side of his ear as he lightly groans against my skin. “Darling can we please leave? I can’t handle this anymore… I need to touch you...” He whimpers into my ear and I chuckle. “Aw… But we can’t… They would notice...” I say. He’s usually very dominant but in his tipsy state he is acting as if he was always a submissive partner. I want to see how long this will last before he decides to take the dominant role back.

He groans in my ear as I kiss his neck. “T-they won’t notice I p-promise...” He whimpers into my ear and I nod pouting a little. “But you're all intoxicated… It would be taking advantage.” I tell him and his face is now red as he tries to keep his moans down. “I promise… Please let me touch you... and your drunk too!” He mumbles and I bite my lip. “One, I'm buzzed. Two, we need to get you to bed before you get all horny.” I whisper, taking his hand. I get up walking him out and he follows.

We get into my room and I help him inside the bathroom. “Strip.” I say and he scoffs. “You… don’t tell me what to do.” He retorts falling a bit. “But I do.” I say and he scoffs. I nod and walk over peeling his clothes as he whines. I kiss his cheek shoving him inside the shower once it warms up. When I try to walk out he whines louder. “What bubba?” I ask and he crosses his arms. “I want you..” He mumbles and I laugh. “Freddie… You’re drunk I’m not going to get naked with Drunk You.” I tell him and he pouts. “I won’t get handsy. I promise!” He tells me and I kiss his cheek softly. “I know… I just don’t trust myself.” I tell him with a wink. “No no no you can’t say that and leaveeeeee.” He whines and I laugh. He pulls me and I yelp. I get immediately drenched and start laughing at the feeling. “Fred!” I yell at him and he chuckles pulling me in for a kiss. “I shouldn’t be in here...” I say chuckling and he laughs. “The last time you said that you ended up giving in...” He hums with a giggle hiding behind his voice. I laugh nodding and he kisses me. The kisses are sloppy but still perfect as he tries his best to stand up. He keeps trying to get to my neck as I giggle trying my best not to give in but sadly my boyfriend is far too hot for that.

“Godric… I wish I could always hold you like this… No hiding… No stolen kisses… I don’t have to smack your arse with people assuming the truth… I just want us to be known ya know? No girls flirting with me… No boys always chasing you… Just us...” He mumbles into my neck and I pull away smiling at him. “You mean that?” I ask and he nods kissing me. “I love you y/n…” He tells me and I kiss him jumping up to wrap my legs around his hips

***

The next day I wake up beside Fred who looks a mess. “Fred...” I sing and he mumbles something digging his head into my chest which he was using as a pillow. “You need to wake uppp.” I whisper in his ear and he mumbles again. “Freddie… What will get you up?” I ask and he raises his head a little squinting at me. “A potion to make this hangover go away...” He tells me and I nod getting up. He quickly tries to get me back but I’m too quick and he groans. “What happened last night?” He asks after moments of silence. “Nothing much… You were dared to either confess how you truly felt about me or I had to sit on your lap...” I tell him as I gather herbs from my drawers. “Oh?” He asks sitting up. I nod and he watches as I make the potion. “Well… What did I do?” He asks and I laugh. I start to grind the herbs together as I pour in some oils. “You were going to confess that you loooved me but I sat on your lap.” I tell him and he chuckles shyly. “You were so handsy too. Couldn’t keep your hands off of me.” I tell him and he gets up worried. “I’m so sorry. Did I make you uncomfortable. Godric, I’m so sorry.” He tells me and I laugh shaking my head. “It was cute. And you would always stop- usually when I had enough.” I tell him and he nods. “I drank way too much- and I am good at handling my drinks.” He tells me and I laugh. I finish the potion and motion for him to sit against the headboard.

I start to rub the solution on his temple. It glows for a second and disappears. I kiss him and he smiles against my lips, sighing contently. I nod in agreement and he kisses me again. “So… Anything else?” He asks and I chuckle sitting on his lap. “Nothing really… You were adorable.” I tell him choosing not to involve the drunk ‘I love you’ and his upset rant about wanting us to be public.

***

I walk into the party and Fred immediately locks eyes with me. He walks over and eyes my short skirt that barely covers my bum. “Aren’t you supposed to be a cute follow the rules girl?” He asks and I laugh. “Why are you asking?” I ask him and he smirks. He moves me into a secluded area where you can only see inside at an angle lifting my chin. “Y/n… That skirt is extremely inappropriate. I don’t remember breaking any school rule… So why are you breaking mine?” He asks and I chuckle. I jump a little feeling him grip my thighs. “Darling. You need to listen to my rules.” He tells me as he massages my bum. “Well… I wanted to dress nice today.” I tell him and he picks me up wrapping my legs around him. I laugh looking around shocked at his boldness. “Godric I don’t care I need you...” He mumbles kissing me passionately. I kiss him back and feel his tongue slip past my lips. He takes his time exploring my mouth as I moan to every movement.

“Freddie...” I mumble and he looks at me through his long hair smiling. “Yes bunny?” He asks using the nickname he saves for special moments. “We are going to get caught.” I tell him laughing and he nods sadly. “One more kiss?” He asks pouting. I laugh nodding as he kisses me again. We take longer to separate and finally do, needing some form of oxygen. We laugh out of breath placing our foreheads together smiling goofily. “I love you Fred Weasley...” I mumble and he smiles. “I love you Y/n L/n” He replies and we hear George nearby. He drops me and I pull out my wand apparating across the room. I see George catch Fred and he walks out flattening his button down.

I watch as George introduces Fred to a girl I know from my house. She always talks about a new boy every week. Annoys the hell out of me. I walk over to grab a drink. When I turn around I catch eyes with a familiar ginger. He smiles winking at me and George taps my shoulder. “Y/n- Y/nnnn you’re staringggg.” He hums and I snap back. “Hm?” I ask and he scoffs. “You need to tell him how you feel.” He tells me and I laugh. “Please. He doesn’t like me like that.” I lie and he shakes his head. “If you continue ignoring your feelings for him he’ll get snatched up.” He tells me and I sigh. “That girl? Fiona? She asked me to introduce her to him. She fancies him.” He tells me and I nod sighing.

A few drinks and dances later I’m keeping my eyes on Fred as he talks with a few girls. A few guys have hit on me but I reject their advances. I see Fiona finally drag him to the dance floor and my blood boils seeing it. A few more minutes later a guy comes up to me smiling and Fred’s still dancing.

“Edward.” He tells me, holding out his hand. “That’s a lovely name, am I to assume it's yours?” I ask with a small laugh. “Sorry… That was a bit random huh?” He asks and I nod laughing lightly. “You are… Beautiful by the way.” He tells me and I smile warmly. “Thank you… If a boy this handsome thinks I’m pretty, wow.” I say and he smiles a bit wider. “So… Do you have a date hanging around?” He asks and I glance over at Fred and he’s staring directly at me cocking his head with his tongue in his cheek. “Actually… I don’t think so… There's this boy but he’s off dancing with a girl.” I tell him and he looks as if he witnessed a cosmic event. “Why?! If I had you I’d never even look at a girl.” He tells me and I laugh placing my hand on his knee. “You are too kind.” I reply and he smiles at me.

I talk with Edward for a while and I hear Fred getting everyone's attention. “For everyone's knowledge! Severus Snape has officially gotten what he deserved for those horrible grades.” He yells to the crowd and George stands up with him. “Thanks to yours truly.” He says with a bow. “What did you do?!” A girl in the crowd asks and he snaps at her. “Let’s just say, he’ll have the hiccups for a while.” Fred yells out and George nods laughing.

I look at Edward who is laughing his arse off. “Those two...” I say. I excuse myself and walk over. Fred looks at me challengingly. “Yes?” He asks me and I scoff. “Pranking a professor?!” I ask and he nods smiling. “Best prank yet.” He tells me and I scoff. “What the hell got into your mind to do that?!” I ask and he nods at Edward. “How was your boyfriend?” He questions and I scoff. “You hypocritical, jealous, bastard!” I tell him and he looks at me angrily. “Do I need to do graffiti? Do not try me. No cursing.” He tells me pointing at me and I scoff. “Fuck. Damn. Shit. Pussy. Cunt. Dick.” I tell him and he shakes his head. “Bedroom. Now. You better be stripped naked sitting like a princess when I get there.” He spits in my ear and I look at him angrily. “No.” I say stomping my foot. “You bratty little...” He mumbles and I stomp over to Edward. “Lets dance.” I tell him, grabbing his hand. “O-Ok!” He replies as I drag him to the dance floor.

He holds my hips against his as I dance and I see Fred eyeing me angrily as Fiona fawns over him. We dance for a while as Edward grinds against me and we just move in sync. I look over and he’s walking over done with my teasing. He grabs my arm dragging me to a table pulling me up. “What- What are you doing Fred?!” I ask and he looks at me. “Sir.” He corrects and I blush. He pulls me in and kisses me harshly in front of everyone. I pull away shocked and he smirks. I finally crash my lips into his as he holds my arse keeping me where I was. “I knew it!” I hear Hermione yell and we laugh continuing the kiss. “Sir… I need you...” I whisper in his ear and he smiles.

We get to his dorm deep into a kiss as he shrugs his button down off quickly, mumbling the spells to silence and lock the door. “Get undressed. Now.” He growls and I nod. He sits on his chair rubbing up and down his cock as he watches me get undressed. I sit down between my legs looking at him through my eyelashes innocently. “Go on… Lay down.” He tells me and I follow his orders.

He moves each hand to tie them to the corners of the bed. “What’s the safe word my dear?” He asks with a hint of concern. “Avocadoo. Which I highly request we change. Its idiotic.” I tell him and he chuckles. “You know the other idea...” He hums chuckling. “I will not ever say Mischief Managed during sex.” I tell him and he chuckles kissing me and slowly going down to my neck leaving small bruises all over my skin from his lips. I slowly turn my light demeanor to moans and begs as he massages my chest lightly kissing my shoulders. “You were a bad girl today weren’t you?” He asks and I nod biting my lip and he grabs my chin. “So you know you were being bad.” He says sternly and my eyes widen shaking my head. “And… I broke zero rules… I think my bad girl needs punishment.” He tells me and I gasp lightly as he places a blindfold on my eyes but I feel his warm lips kissing me to calm me a little. “Just a blindfold darling...” He tells me and I nod.

I hear a vibrator and start moving my legs trying to get free until a slap against my bum tells me no. “Good girl...” He mumbles watching me calm. “Now continue being a good girl while I fuck you senseless.” He tells me and I feel him place the vibrator on my clit and I try fighting his hold moaning loudly at the extremely high setting. “Now… You are going to get this until I feel you’ve learned your lesson. So my question is… What are you darling?” He asks and I don’t listen. “What. Are. You?” He demands and I ignore him again only to earn him to raise the vibrator to its highest setting.

“I’m a slut!” I moan loudly and he laughs. “What are you?” He asks again and I moan begging him. “A slut!” I moan again and he holds my throat. “Who’s slut? Edwards?” He asks and I shake my head. “I’m your slut!” I moan and he tightens his hold a little. “Say it again. 5 more times.” He tells me. Just as I begin moaning out the sentence again he shoves a gag in my mouth making me gasp. I try to say it through the gag and I almost finish when he plays loud music and I feel tears well up in my eyes. “Please sir!” I moan and he ignores me either not hearing or not caring.

A few minutes later I’ve came twice, he finally turns off the music. “Are you my slut?” He asks and I nod. “Can you try one more time, my perfect toy?” He asks and I nod tired. He pulls off the vibrator cleaning it with a spell and removes my blindfold kissing my small tears from my cheeks untying the ties on my legs. “Are you sure? You could cause an earthquake with those legs… And you're really shaky.” He says cheekily and I chuckle leaning my head back. “You have me in bed Weasley, I think you can stop flirting.” I tell him and he laughs kissing my neck as I moan still tired. “But I love flirting with you...” He mumbles and I feel his legs go on either side of my hips. “Ok. Last time: You are sure? Cause I can wank off on my own if you’re tired.” He asks and I laugh. “Freddie I’m ok.” I tell him and he nods, kissing me softly. I feel him place a pillow under my hips aligning himself with my entrance.

“Fuck...” He moans as he slides inside. He lets me adjust then slowly starts to go back and forth speeding up until he’s at a good speed. He kisses my breasts leaving bruises as he rams into me. He finishes quickly, probably from wanking off while I was under the vibrator. He collapses on my chest kissing me lightly. “I love you...” He mumbles repeating it after every kiss. He unties me carrying me to the bathroom. “Bubble bath?” He asks and I nod excitedly.

After the bath we walk out in new clothes to see George and Hermione smirking at us. “KNEW IT- THEY WERE!” Hermione says as he hands her a sack of money. “What the hell Fred?! Couldn’t you just be a pussy and not ask her out?!” He asks and we laugh. “Hey darling? Hermione found out.” He sings in my ear and I laugh walking over to my purse grabbing the money. I shove it into his chest and he smiles at me goofily. He pulls me in and I yelp as he kisses me. “I hate you both.”

#fred weasley #canon #george weasley #fred and goerge weasley #fred and george #hermione granger #ron weasley #Fears #hogwarts #gryffindor #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #slytherin #smut x reader #fred weasley x reader

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miyaniacs · 3 years ago

Text

The One Night Stand pt. 6

Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader / Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Part 1 ; Pt. 2 ; Pt. 3; Pt. 4 ; Pt. 5

A/n: anddd angst is hereeeeeee - feedback is always welcome :) it act hurt to write this lol can you tell I had a small mental breakdown yesterday haha but at least it helped to write this chapter here :)

Warnings: angst; not proof read; nsfw ( minors do not read this), usage of the word whore, rough / angry sex

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader , Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Form: oneshot / short story

The whole ride home you stayed quiet. The image of Toji and the other women kissing, just wouldn’t leave your mind. And it did not stop there.

Your mind is creating all those scenarios. Scenarios that tell you that whenever he was on the phone, when you were with him, he was texting her, telling her about how badly he wants to see her again, telling her when you’d leave so she can come over. Him telling her about how bad you are and annoyed, her laying in his arms, naked with her perfect body, laughing about how pathetic you sound. How pathetic you ARE. Crushing on your best friend, fucking with another that is way out of your league, who’s probably just doing it for laughs. Who are you kidding? He definitely did it just for laughs. Saying all those things to you, to get a reaction out of you, just so he can make fun of it later on with her - or even during it, texting her how stupid you are. How fun it is to mess with you, how you started to look at him differently. How he waits at the door when you left, just to wrap his arms around her small frame, just seconds after you left. His hands on her thighs, lifter her up, placing his lips on hers while carrying her inside, laying her down on the bed, you were in just minutes ago.

Hell he was probably seeing her whenever he was away for missions.

Have they all been missions? Or was it just a weekend he wanted to spent with her and get away from you?

But... how are you to judge? You used him... to get over your best friend... And ended up falling for him instead. You never even questioned if he has someone else. You’ve been totally egoistic the whole time, he could have been in an open relationship with her. Toji isn’t one to tell you things by himself, but you never even thought of asking him?

All you did was use him, complain to him and in the end just leave.

Are you really in the position to cry now?

You feel a soft hand touching your arm.

“Hey, were back home.” You look into the blue eyes of your... boyfriend? Can you really consider him as your boyfriend, knowing that you stopped loving him weeks ago? Even before he officially became your boyfriend?

“Satoru.. I - “ His hand cups your cheek and you stopped talking.

“Let’s get inside... I feel like we both need to confess things.” He smiles sadly.

So here you are now. Sitting on the couch in his apartment starring at his inhumanly blue eyes, waiting for him to start talking.

“So... I’m not blind. Even tho most of the time I look like I am..” he jokes, but quickly stopped the second he sees your emotionale expression, “ Well... I know you like him.” He licks his lips and avoids your gaze.

“Satoru... look I’m sorry, I did not plan on playing you... I - I really thought that I still love you.” You whisper and fiddles with your fingers, “ I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“You did not... I- I’m actually relived.” He sighs and looks down. You’re eyes shoot up and you stare at his face.

“What?” Your body begins to shiver as you watch his lips open, the words leaving them seem unreal. Your brain refuses to accept that this is the truth, but the way he looks directly at you, his eyes showing nothing but honesty, you start to shake.

“How long did you plan to keep this act up?” You whisper.

“I hoped that it wouldn’t be an act the whole time... and that I learn to love you ... the way you do.. or did.” His eyes study your face, looking for any sign of emotion. Your eyes get glassy. Your body shakes. Your mouth is slightly open, but no words leave your lips. The tears now run freely down your face.

“Hey... Y/n..” He tries to pull you into a hug, to give you the hold and safety his hugs always provide you, but you quickly jump up and step away from him.

“Don’t touch me.” you’re voice shakes and is barely over a whisper, yet he heard your words and sees the hurt in your eyes. “Just.... don’t - don’t talk to me again... I - just leave me alone.” You walk backwards, your hands grab your hair, your brain can’t fully understand everything that is happening right now.

Gojo on the other hand knows exactly what is happening.

And he feels his heart break.

He is loosing his best friend.

The one person that always stayed at his side, since school you where with him and you stayed. You stayed during the whole mess his life used to be, or is.

You were the only person the felt comfortable with to truly open up to.

“Y/n... please. Don’t leave. Don’t leave me.” He whispers and stands up, still keeping his distance from you.

“DO YOU FEEL LIKE I WANT TO STAY WITH YOU NOW?” You scream, all your emotions crushing down on you all at once.

“No - no... just - it’s late, just stay here and I leave... I’ll stay away for how long I need to ... I don’t want anything to happen to you...” he looks at you with pleading eyes.

“HOW DO YOU THINK I CAN STAY HERE - IN YOUR HOUSE...where ... where everything reminds me of you...” you whisper the last part. Your hands grab the handle of the door, taking a deep breath you open it and look over your shoulder.

“Goodbye Gojo.”

“How long?” He whispers, his voice shakes.

“I - I don’t know.” You say and look at his eyes, tears running down on both of your faces.

Then you close the door and hurry out of the apartment complex.

On the other side of the door, Gojo collapse.

All of his muscles gave up working, he simply lays on the floor, not really able to breath, thanks to the knot in his throat.

He lost you.

He lost his best friend.

The person he saw himself still joking around when you are both old and your hair colors would finally match.

But he failed. He wanted to give you everything, make you happy, he would have done everything for you, not caring about his own feelings, he just wanted you to be happy.

You - the person he cares the most about.

But at the end, he hurt you and he lost you.

Lost you like he always looses everyone close to him.

With all the strength he has left, he takes out his phone and calls the only person he trust with all of this mess.

“Gojo. It’s 2am. And I just came back home.What do you want.” Nanami sighs.

“Please, find Y/n.” He whispers.

“What? Shouldn’t she be with you?”

“I- I told her...” his voice breaks.

“I’ll save the whole ‘ I’ve told you this would happen’ speech.” Nanami sighs. Why does he have to be involved in this mess.

“Nanami please, I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“I’m on my way.” Nanami hangs up and puts on his shoes.

___

Why did you left him.

Yes what he did was wrong... but his intention wasn’t... you should not have been so hard to him. Not after all he had to go though... and after all he did for you.

He was okay with giving up his ‘hoe’ life just for your happiness.

Also... are you really okay with loosing your best friend?

You need him. And you know he needs you too. You two have always been there for each other, he trusts you and you trust him. You’re actually questing if you‘ve ever really loved him the way you felt you did. The feelings you felt for him and the ones you feel for Toji are … different. Maybe you never really loved before … and truth to be told, you longed for that feeling of someone loving you. Of someone holding you at night, kissing you, of not being alone when you make dinner… of not feeling unloved.

Maybe … your brain really just made you imagine those feelings for Gojo … yes you love him. And he loves you … but at this point … you realize that it’s the same way you love an family member… because that’s what he is for you… family.

Should you just walk back and talk things out with him.

Yes. Yes that would be the most mature thing to do.

But - no . You decided to be childish and let him suffer.

You don’t want to be the one who apologizes, yet you know that he will also not come and beg on for your forgiveness. Not because of his ego... but because he knows how much he hurt you and he doesn’t want to cause you more pain. So at the end you’ll have to go back to him.

Talking about going back... where are you going right now?

Looking around yourself, you groan.

No.

No .

NO.

Why the actual fuck did your feet walk you over to his.

But... but maybe it was meant to be?

Looking up you see light shining through his window.

Should you just... walk up... and knock in his door?

But what if she is still there, what if she opens the door, in one of his shirts, looking flawless, while you stand there, red puffy eyes, your make-up smudged... No. No you will not be that desperate.

Looking around you spot a bench and sit down.

Your eyes are fixed on the window and your mind starts creating scenarios again.

What is he doing right now? You really want to believe that he’s alone - nether the less your mind won’t let you.

In your head he’s laying in his bed. The women straddling him, running her hands up and down his tones body. Her lips leaving marks on his neck, his eyes are closed, yet the smug smirk is still visible on his face.

His hands grabbing her hips, grinding her against him, a deep growl escapes his lips, as she sits up, bouncing up and down on him- the sound of your phone gets your back to reality.

Without looking at the ID you answer your phone, hoping you’ll be able to hear Tojis deep voice.

“Y/n.”

“Nanami?” You blink a few times, not expecting him to call you at this time of the day.

“Where are you?”

“Home.” You lie.

“No you’re not. I’m at your home and you’re not there.” He sighs, “I know what happened. So where are you?”

“Did Gojo ask you to find me?” You roll your eyes.

“Yes. He’s worried about you.” He says in a calm voice.

“Wow isn’t he a wonderful person.” You roll your eyes.

“I am too. I just want to be sure you’re save.” He says sincerely.

“I am. I just need some time alone.” You sigh. The light in the window went off.

“... I don’t feel good with leaving you alone at night in this city.”

“I promise I’ll call you when I don’t feel save.” You smile.

“... I can’t convince you to let me pick you up?” He sighs again.

“No.”

“... well... just don’t go to inside.” He hangs up.

You look around confused and see the silhouette of a men walking away.

He knew exactly where you where.

Why are you not surprised.

Then you see something moving in the corner of your eyes.

There’s a person walking - more like storming out of the building.

The clicking of her heels echoes though the street.

Her long dark hair, flows in the wind, even now her hips sway perfectly even with her aggressive walking.

Was this the women from the bar?

Does this mean he’s alone now?

‘Don’t go inside.’ You repeat the words Nanami told you over and over - as you make your way towards the entrance.

From the distance Nanami watches you. He knew you wouldn’t listen. Looking up he shakes his head, again why is he involved in this. Or better - why did he let himself getting involved in all of this.

“Gojo.”

Another man steps out of the shadows.

“How long have you been here?” Nanami asks.

“I followed her.” He admits.

“And why did you call me up then?” He looks at him annoyed.

“In case she needed someone to talk …” Gojo stares at her figure entering the building.

“Do you think it will end well?” He looks at Nanami.

“Depends on how stubborn Fushiguro will be.”

“So I’ll better stay in case she ends up crying again.”

“You think she’ll want to see you then?” Nanami raises an eyebrow.

“No… but at least I can teach him a lesson for hurting her.” He says and his lips form a tight line.

“… I don’t think you’re in any position to judge.” Nanami shakes his head, “Go now. I’ll stay a bit longer.”

“But -“

“No. Go.” Gojo sighs and turns around.

“Gojo - I know you think you’ve lost her as your best friend … but I don’t think that’s the case. At least not for too long.” Gojo stops for a seconds, his eyes lightning up behind his glasses.

“I hope you’re right.” He says and leaves.

- some time before -

This doesn’t feel right.

His hips slam against her ass, one of his hands grab her waist, the other her hair.

Whenever she moans, he feels like throwing up.

Her voice sounds so wrong.

His hands release her body and grab her face from the back, shoving his fingers in her mouth, trying to muffle what ever she’s saying. Closing his eyes he tries to ignore who is fucking, one of his hands moves down and wraps around her throat. Pulling her towards him, her head falls over his shoulder, while he mercilessly continues fucking her. Some inhuman sounds leave her body, while Toji let’s all of his anger out on her.

He knows it’s not you, but with his eyes closed he can project all of the imagines of you, which he saved in his mind, on this girl and hopefully be able to reach his climax soon. Your beautiful face, the way your lips part whenever he touches you at this one spot, how beautiful his name sounds whenever you moan it…

“Omg Tojiii - I missed this so much.” She moans. Opening his eyes he grits his teeth.

“Shut the fuck up you stupid whore.” He says and the hand around her throat tightens.

He really tries to imagine it being you that’s being with him right now, but he can’t.

She doesn’t look like you, doesn’t sound like you, doesn’t feel like you - she’s simply isn’t you.

He let’s go of her face and throat and pulls out of her.

Trying to catch her breath she looks at him confused.

“Toji? Babe?”

Not even sparing her a glance he gets up and puts on some sweatpants.

“Not in the mood.” He huffs.

“Let me help you get into it thennnn.” She crawls over the bad and her hands reach to the hem of his sweatpants.

“No.” He steps back and grabs her clothes throwing them at her.

“Leave.”

“What?”

“I said leave.”

“But - but daddy we always had so much fun together …” she smirks and looks up at him.

“I said. Get. The fuck. Out. Of. My. Home.” He growls.

“Is it because of that slut?!” She angrily pulls on her dress, glaring at Toji who pulls out one of his cigarettes.

“Wow. Haven’t you told me at first that you’re just messing with her to annoy this guy with the white hair ?! And that I’m way better in bed than her?!” She huffs.

“I lied.” He says and blows the smoke in her face.

“Oh so some ugly fucking slut stole your he-“

Tojis grabs her face, squishing her cheeks inwards.

“I dare you, Max, call her a slut one more time.” His green eyes glow as he pushes her away, making her fall back on the bed.

“You bastard.” Max says and slips in her heals storming towards the door.

“Don’t call me again - like ever.”

“Never did - you were the one blowing up my phone ” He laughs as she slams the door.

Turning off the lights, he sighs and falls down on his sofa. His head rolls back and he stares at the ceiling.

He shouldn’t have left with her.

Deep down he knew that this would help him getting over you.

He looks at his phone.

Should he just call you?

No. You’re probably busy with Gojo right now.

His heart stings at the thought of it.

One of his hands massages his temples. He can’t stop thinking about you.

Oh how he wished that you were here with him right now.

In his arms, telling him about anything and everything.

Every second he spends with you seemed so easy and peaceful. He never felt that way since he lost Megumis mother.

A knock on the door interrupts him from fully embracing this depressed episode.

“I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE MAX!” He screams angrily.

“Toji… ?” A soft broken voice calls out his name and his eyes shoot open.

Taglist: @laceymorganwrites @ereeeeehhh @gojoscumslut @channieboii @alltimeluw ( I’ll tag you since you binged the first chapters) I hope it’s okay 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 ) : @cocotaku420 , @angelofthorr , @sukunas-cult-leader

#jjk oneshots #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo headcanons #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #gojo x reader #gojo hcs #toji x you #toji imagine #toji x reader #toji hcs #jjk angst

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